#but *all* of that comes from my backstory. without it where would I be? probably nowhere

[protagonist-art]

"Uh- I'm Arnold. Bennett. It's profoundly difficult to get your lifes works and studies accepted if your name isn't... yes, oh! Are you a fan of moths, sir?"

NEW RDR2 OC!! a reclusive, clumsy entomologist and bug collector; cooped up in his study of uniformed clutter

[kikizoshi]

It's amazing how much of my progress with understanding and working with Nikolai as a character is predicated on his backstory. His backstory, which is exclusive to me, because I'm the one who made it. But every time I'm working on any questions to do with his philosophies or motivations, I have to delve into his past. It's so essential. No wonder I couldn't get anywhere with canon Nikolai--there literally just isn't enough there. Not enough for someone like me, anyway. I'm sure it's possible.

[writingwithfolklore]

Backstory is Revealed When You Need It, Not Before

                Recently I shared my first 30 pages with my writing mentor, and now I'm sharing her advice with all of you (This is part 2! Find part 1 here). She told me my beginning read very slowly because I was giving backstory before it was relevant in the story, rather than intertwining it with the action.

                What I mean by that is, I was giving a lot of exposition on my world just through my character noting it to herself. I worried that if I didn’t lay down the basics right away, when I did mention it later it would come as a bad shock to readers.

While that might have a logic to it, it's very slow to read just exposition on the world. To get these details through naturally and when they're relevant, while still conveying them in the beginning, we needed to create a conflict for my main character to react to right away.

This way, I could spend the first couple pages revealing the essentials of my world and main character without halting the pacing to a stop.

                Okay, consider these two examples:

Character A avoided the alleyways as they travelled to the store. The city was overrun by gangs who liked to lurk in their dark corners, jumping out at unaware passerby’s for coin or favours.

                Vs.

The back of Character A’s neck prickled as they passed an alleyway that swallowed all light. They were steps away when they heard a raspy voice, “don’t you know you gotta pay the fee to pass through our turf?”

                How this character resolves this conflict will betray who they are as a person. Do they cower? Do they fight back? Do they reveal they have connections to another gang, or the police?

                This little conflict, as well as establishing a vital part of your world and character, should in some small way connect to the bigger conflict up ahead, aka the inciting incident.

                In this example, this specific gang would probably be where the main antagonist is from—or the consequences of how they deal with this follow them into the inciting incident in some way.

                Backstory only when it’s most relevant, not to anticipate when it will be important later.

                Good luck!

[saylor-twift]

“he loves you, but he would never say that to your face.”

“-but he would never admit that.”

“-but he would never tell you.”

???

Are you sure? I am an avid tumblr stalker, and I’ve read so many things on silly little hat man in my time. I’ve seen things that tore my heart to pieces, that patched it up, that made me want to rip my guts out and throw up, that made me feel on top of the world.

And yet this is the one thing that bothers me so very much. I know, everyone has their own interpretations and opinions on different characters. So let me share my own.

The Wanderer is such a deeply written and intricate character, strung together with deep fears and insecurities, tragic backstories, and a beautiful story of change, healing, and moving forward. (I hate hate hate it when he is forced down to the level of nothing but oversexualization and “uwu sexy anime boy”, but that’s a conversation for another time.)

I’m sure if you’re reading this, you’re probably acquainted with Wanderer’s backstory, so I’m not going to explain. A lot of shit happened that made him who he is, and ever since the events of Irminsul, he has taken on a new path that he cannot go back on. Not like he’d ever want to. He said it himself, he never had any intention of returning to the Fatui. (And also- why choose to go backwards when you’ve got such a nice path set ahead of you?)

Anyways, point is, he’s changing. Notice how I said changing. He’s not changed, he’s just starting to. He’s getting there. Which brings me back to my argument. In the case that Wanderer ends up with a partner, things are certainly not going to be like a normal relationship. (He’s got plenty of red flags, don’t even try to deny it. But he’s a fictional character, so I suppose we can let this one slide.) Is he going to make the first move? That depends on if you make him desperate enough. Otherwise, it’s all on you, babe.

He’s not going to take it well. He’s going to deny it as hard as he can. You don’t love him, how can you? He is the furthest thing from loveable as you can get on this godforsaken planet. (His thoughts, not mine) But he certainly loves you, and, albeit with some likely pressuring assistance from Nahida, he’s come to terms with that terrifying knowledge.

“But he wouldn’t admit that to you.”

STOP. STOP RIGHT THERE.

Here is where my controversial opinion comes in. Most people tend to portray Wanderer as this cold, cut-off, aloof and irritable man, even in a relationship. And before you say anything, no, I absolutely do not think he would be the lovey-dovey, sappy, overly caring and romantic type. He’s not on either end of the spectrum, but I do think he’s somewhere in the middle (but probably leaning towards the former side).

Love is so, so very scary to him. And downright unknown. He’s traversing into uncharted waters here, give him some space to figure things out. That being said, he’s testing these waters. He’s not going to say he loves you at the beginning of a relationship. He has to make sure this thing is going to work. Your relationship is a newly built bridge, and those three words are the heavy cargo passing through. Without a strong foundation, the bridge is going to collapse, no questions asked. The only problem is, it’s going to take a long, long time to build that bridge. It’s going to be more expensive, more time consuming, and cost more materials than you had originally bargained for.

But that cargo can’t sit on one side of the bridge forever, can it? No, it has to get to the other side at some point. So if you have the patience to give your time to this bridge, the cargo will find its way to the other side. The foundation may wobble, the planks may shake, but the bridge isn’t going down.

He loves you, and he would admit it out loud. He would say it to your face. Just maybe not as soon as you want it. It’s going to hurt, and you’re going to wonder if he actually cares for you or not. Fear not, because if you pay attention to those little things he does when you’re not looking, it will feed you those little crumbs you need till you can finally be satiated when the full meal is done cooking. He mends things for you, things you had given up on because you’d never have the time nor energy to do it yourself. He cooks, and surprisingly, it’s always your preferences. He collects things that remind him of you, some he keeps out of embarrassment, and some he leaves on your bedsheets whenever you’re not home.

He’s been hurt, abandoned, and betrayed far too many times to immediately let himself fall into something as complicated as a relationship. He’s going to be distant, you’re going to disagree, probably fight a bit. He’s just seeing how far he can bend the lines, how much you really want him. (red flag maybe!! but he’s working on it, it’s going to be okay. mayyyybe you can look past just this one…) If you won’t leave even if he does this, then he thinks, maybe you’re the one. Maybe fate decides to treat him benevolently for once.

And when you finally, finally get to that point, he’s going to drown you so deep you can never get out. He’ll say he loves you, does everything in his power to make sure you never forget it. (no, he’s not going to read you love poems in the moonlight and call you darling. sorry if that’s your thing, that’s not who he is.)

This relationship will never be perfect, but relationships never are. Just as long as the two of you are willing to be patient with the other and get through your differences and clashing personalities, you are going to mold together perfectly. And even if he doesn’t say it often, (which he probably won’t. he’s certain you know it. why repeat something already ingrained into your mind? he doesn’t use those words lightly), it’s not like he’ll never say it. He won’t leave you in the dark for too long. He loves you, don’t worry. He’ll say it, but he prefers to show it.

[keri-mcberry]

helloooo I’m really late to the Lyla train but I love her so much already three minutes into scrolling here 😭 💙 and I would love to know as much as I can about her! Personality? Backstory? Favourite breed of dog or cat? Absolutely anything! ☺️

Thank you so much for sending this!! Sorry it took me forever to answer! There was so much I wanted to share, so here goes!

✨ TONS OF ART AND YAPPING BELOW ✨

Background and Personality

Lyla is a muggleborn who lives with her parents, Luis and Ava Estaris, and little brother, Alfred! Her parents run a bookstore in London, and they all live in a small apartment on the second floor. So naturally, she had access to tons of fantasy and adventure books and read them all as she grew up! That's why she views the wizarding world with such wonder and appreciation because it's a dream come true for her!

Luis Estaris

Lyla gets her playful and caring personality from her father, Luis. He encouraged Lyla to pursue her dreams but to never forget what truly mattered - love and kindness. When his children were younger, he always found exciting and fun ways to entertain them, whether it was an impromptu field trip or magic tricks during a rainy afternoon. Lyla was obviously always impressed. Alfred not so much 🤭

Ava Estaris

Lyla gets her talent for duelling from her mother, Ava. At a very young age, Ava taught her the art of fencing. That's why I believe a muggleborn like Lyla would be so skilled at wand duelling without having any experience with magic. I remember watching a Hogwarts Legacy live stream where they described wand duelling as "fencing from a distance", and I LOVED that!

Alfred Estaris

Lyla and her little brother, Alfred, have a close bond, as much as he denies it. She loves addressing him as "Alfie", and only SHE’S allowed to call him that!! 🫵 I based a lot of his personality off of Damian Wayne (my favorite Robin haha) I love how he always tries to appear tough and aloof, but underneath it all, he's still only a child.

Lyla's Familiar

As for her favorite breed of dog? Probably pugs or corgis. Silly little loaves of bread haha. Cats? All of them!! But a familiar that is near and dear to her heart is her Great Horned Owl named Owlfred. She named him after her little brother, Alfred, because they both wear the same exact expression - thoroughly unimpressed with everything and everyone around them lmao. I wanted to include @traceyc-uk's MC with their owl for fun. I've never seen an owl with so much personality and sass. I love it! 🦉 (I wasn’t entirely sure what type of owl she was so I just guessed, sorry!)

If you made it this far, then you're amazing! Thank you so much for sticking around and listening to me yap about Lyla's family! I adore them all so much, and I hope you do too 🥹💕

[indierpgnewsletter]

There's Other Kinds Of GM Advice: Theatricality versus Transparency

(This first appeared on the Indie RPG Newsletter)

I find that broadly there are at least two kinds of GM advice – and they have a very different philosophy underpinning them.

The first kind of advice aims at all costs to maintain verisimilitude. It’s a solution that you can implement without breaking the players’ immersion in their characters. This can just be stuff like Matt Colville explaining that if your players are taking too long discussing plans, guess what, orcs attack! We’ve all probably played a game where people were going in circles and not able to decide what to do. If it looks like we’re not able to decide, we’re probably going to be relieved if the GM makes something happen to break the deadlock and prompt us back into the action.

(Historically, this kind of thing was taken to egregious lengths like Gary Gygax saying if players start acting uppity, have a rock fall on their head. It’s mostly gone now but reddit tells me that Cyberpunk Red which came out relatively recently still says something similar.)

The second flavor of advice involves breaking character and talking to your players directly. I know “talk to your players” is a mantra repeated so often that autocorrect suggests it as soon as you type the letter t. At its worst, this advice is vague and unhelpful. We’ve all considered talking frankly to people in our lives, we just find it awkward and hard and annoying. But, but, but – at its best, just describing the problem as you see it and escalating it from a character discussion to a player discussion will make it go away instantly. Like magic. (If you’re not sure what that means: In a previous issue, I discussed Jason Tocci’s excellent advice on escalating conversation in this way.)

And since the theatrical flavour of advice has the weight of history on its side and transparent advice keeps getting boiled down to mantra form, I thought I’d write down some examples of situations and some alternative ways to handle them:

Situation 1: The players are marines discussing whether to dive into the alien lair and recover their stolen engine (their main goal) or go and see if another missing team of marines is okay. There is only 45 minutes left and this is a one shot.

Theatrical: The other marines suddenly come on the radio and say, “hey we’re okay, please complete the mission.”

Transparent: “Hey, folks. There’s 45 minutes left. If we don’t do the alien lair now, we won’t be able to do it at all. Is that fine?”

Situation 2: The players are low-level fantasy nobodies who have a famous wizard friend. They’re about to tangle with some medium-level bad guy and decide to call in their wizard friend.

Theatrical: When the players try to contact her via a telepathic phone call / spell, she sounds breathless and says she’s busy doing something way more important like fighting a dragon.

Transparent: “Hey, folks. If we get the wizard in, she’ll absolutely make this fight a cakewalk. We won’t even need to roll initiative really. Is that what you want? Or would we rather have a fun fight?”

Situation 3: The players were having fun exploring when they meet a cool NPC (an android! an elf! an android elf!) who has this interesting backstory with an urgent, earth-shattering hook. They go along with the android elf because it seems more important but immediately look like they’re having less fun.

Theatrical: Narrate how the android elf meets a group of other android elves and have the elf say, “Hey, now that I have these folks helping me, you can leave it you want!”

Transparent: “Hey, folks. Talking to you as players here, do we want to stick with this whole android elf plot here? It does mean that we won’t do any open-ended exploration. Which would you prefer?” If they want to ditch the elf plot, you could just retcon it entirely or do the theatrical solution.

All of these situations have happened at my table. They’re all relatively low stakes and I think whichever way you handle it, it’ll probably be fine. But that said, some situations absolutely work better when done transparently so if you’ve never tried the transparent way, give it a shot. If immersion matters a lot to you, try it at the end of the session.

/End

PS. The theatrical options often still require the players to willingly suspend their disbelief and go with it. If a player didn’t play along, they might just say “I thought their radios weren’t working, otherwise we could’ve just contacted them before. Why can they suddenly contact us now?” or “Oh, the wizard is fighting a dragon right now. We can totally wait. There’s no reason we need to fight the bad guy right now.” And sometimes I can’t shut off that part of my brain either so I won’t judge. But if there’s a way to sidestep that situation even coming up, I’m going to take it every time.

[imbecominggayer]

How To Write Character Motivation

This little (not-so-little) post is all about how to give your character a motivation for that goal all the while taking into account important things like the backstory, worldbuilding, themes, and such.

Keep in mind the fact that there are billions of different goals and connecting motivations so this advice is probably not applicable for everything :)

Again, these are just some tips. I am going to be assuming that you have some basic information about your character like what they want and where they come from :D

A) Questions, Questions, And More Questions

Take your character and ask them what their goal is. Then ask them "why?". Force them to answer. Then ask them different "why" questions based on what they answer!

For example: "Character A wants to kill the dragon"

Why? The dragon killed my family.

Why did the dragon kill your family? My father was a monster hunter who was upsetting the dragon's food resource.

Why did the dragon kill your other family members? My mom and my sister were collateral damage in the dragon's attack.

You can do this little exercise with any type of goal from crime, adventure, romance, to any other genre I haven't listed yet!

B) Deep Psychology

Now you have ask yourself, actually your character but you know, "what is this really about"?

What does this goal symbolize for this character?

Character A wants to kill the dragon because she believes it will end her own nightmares about the death of her parents. This is a thoughtless attempt to grieve without grieving.

Character B wants to steal a treasure of their home village because he believes that by gaining the financial rewards associated, he will be adored by his new community of outsiders. This is a desire for belonging.

You get the point. These goals aren't just about stealing your home's sacred treasure for wealth or killing a dragon for revenge. It's about universal desires we all share. To be loved, to be strong, to be great.

This is necessary because most people don't live in isolated villages housing secret treasures nor do they kill dragons. If you want your audience to connect with your character, the audience needs something universal to latch onto.

C) Themes And Misbelief

Most great stories feature a "misbelief" or mistaken assumption. This is the potentially fatal flaw of this character who believes something that is either not reflective of reality or will endanger something they care about.

Even if Character A kills the dragon ten times over, their family is gone. They can't kill their grief. They have to authentically work through it. Besides, I can't imagine how completely f#cked the food web would be if an apex predator like the dragon died.

If Character B used the sacred treasure to gain untold wealth they most likely would gain the acceptance and support of the "outsiders". But isn't it more important to protect the tradition. Their culture? Their people? It's a good thing to protect things that need to be protected!

These stories can either end as a cautionary tale, a lifeless happily ever after, and an impactful happy ever after depending on the character arc and ending of these characters.

If Character A and B "succeed" in their goals but this ruins their overall life, it's a cautionary tale.

If Character A and B succeed in their goals and they suffer no consequences for their mistaken belief, it's a lifeless victory.

If Character A and B choose different goals as a result of a character arc then they will succeed and reach a true happily ever after.

[toon-tales]

Hiya! Ok, so, I'm here to analyze, again. But! Not a scene. I'm here to analyze the evolution of the one and only #Broppy, from the first movie. I've been planning to include the three movies and the holiday specials, but I figured I can't add that many pics in one post. I can only add ten, soooo-

Let's take it from the beginning: the first appearance for Branch.

If you ask me, he was being rude, maybe even embarrassed Poppy in front of everyone. Yeah, I love Branch, and he's my baby and all, but dude, you shouldn't have done that, especially not in front of everyone. Like, yeah, we later know his backstory and his grandma and his brothers, but still, it's not Poppy's fault, he shouldn't have treated her like this. Sure, her believing life was all cupcakes and rainbows might have been provoking to Branch, but he's still at fault, and I think more people need to make peace with that.

Also, something I noticed, is that Branch and Poppy were close even before the events of the first movie, cause, literally everyone calls her 'Princess Poppy', except the snack pack. They just call her Poppy, and the fact that Branch also calls her Poppy just proves they were close.

Now, later, we see Branch holding Poppy's scrapbook, then staring at even more scrapbooks on the shelves. Like, cute, sure, but it's not what you feel, it's what you show, Branch.

Okay, now, this scene:

The fact that Poppy was knocking on the rock just means she never got into Branch's bunker before. But she knows the address, so that counts. Maybe he had given it to her when they first met in case she needed something after he'd found her hurt with a broken arm or something then they became friends- I'm totally drifting from the post. Sorry about that.

Now, there are two theories:

Annnywayyyy, let's focus on the scene after:

"Which is why I have to ask you..." she hesitated, before continuing, "will you go to Bergen town with me and save everyone?"

She hesitated! She freaking hesitated! Meaning? She probably never asked Branch to help her before. She surely had problems in her life, but she also had her friends, so I belive she always went to them whenever she was in trouble. But now those friends aren't here, which forces her to ask the person who she trusts the most after them. Branch. And, disappointedly, he refuses, because of the fear he's living in.

Moments later, Poppy surprisingly invites the entire village to Branch's bunker to keep them safe. Which was wrong of her. True, she was trying to protect everyone, but using Branch's house without his consent was wrong. Sorry. Sure, it was the safest place for now, but that still doesn't justify it. You can see he was clearly annoyed (which she loved). But I don't really blame her, just like I don't really blame Branch. They both did wrong.

Skip, skip, skip, skip, skip- hold... rightttt here:

Ah, yes. That scene. Now, look. He showed up, because he knew there was no way Poppy could do this by herself, and he wasn't wrong. Poppy, in return, also knew he would come, because it was the third hug time by then.

"I guess we were both right." That line. It speaks volumes for their relationship, yet no one talks about it! They both look at things from different perspectives, BUT, it doesn't mean either of them is wrong.

Like when they arrived at the troll tree: "The troll tree." "Bergen town."

Or when they found out the others were still alive: "They're alive?" "And on a silver platter too. We were both right."

Please writers and artists, we need more content with this line. Add it to your fanfics/art!

Skip, skip, another skip (yes, I skipped the part where Branch tries to avoid talking about his feelings cause it's kinda... i don't know, i just don't know what to say about it. It's sorta obvious), skiiiiiip, annnndddd, right here:

THEIR. FIRST. HUG.

My babies, oh my sweet precious babies. They've been through so much together, and finally, Branch has found it in himself to actually open up about his past (mostly).

I've spoken about this scene in more details in this post.

Now, we're going to talk about one of the most important scenes in the history of Broppy. This:

Branch is talking. He's always used to being in the shadows, never helping anyone, and here he was, helping a Bergen. If that's not a big change, I don't know what is.

And let me tell you, not only Branch was changing in this scene. See Poppy?

She's learning to look deeper into things, even persons. She's finally realizing that Branch, the grumpy, sarcastic troll, might not be as bad as she thought. They're both developing.

Until the rules are swapped.

Branch is the one to find the bright side, and Poppy is the one to cover it. And you can see how disappointed he is.

"I can't wait to see the look on your face when you realize the world isn't all cupcakes and rainbows." But when it happened, Branch realized that this wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want her to be like him, because this was him - a person who doesn't see the cupcakes and rainbows in life, not even in the slightest.

The way he was trying to cheer her up

And the way she actually smiled. Poppy was still there, her happiness was inside, not gone but hidden, and Branch was trying to find it again.

Yet she didn't even notice her own colors returning. Maybe because she was focused on the change in Branch? She wasn't startled when he sang at first, she wasn't happy, just like he used to be. He didn't use to care, until later, when his feelings began to resurface again, because Poppy helped him. Just like he was doing now. Neither did he notice his colors coming back

Aaaaaand, I think the rest doesn't really need analyzing.

Feel free to add or comment on anything.

Part two

Part three

[fl00mie]

ERROR!INK (ASYNC SANS)

ok so, finally came with a full idea of this character:D an error version of ink. i'll be listing some facts and clarifications about him to prevent any kind of confusion, just under the cut!

i wanted to write his entire backstory on here but it ended up being a little too much longer than i expected so maybe i'll make a comic about it- or no (wheheh). but basically everything started when he also tore his soul but appeared in the anti-void instead of a normal void that would eventually become his doodle sphere

now, his design choices

he's wearing the first ever clothes he used in His Story comic

his eyes colors were chosen thanks to their inverts, those specific magenta and blue are the opposites of green and yellow, the first colors he experienced in his original story

the marks on his body are white to represent the meaning of the few white garments in his original design: "The white layer underneath says how he attempts to hide who he is, but his emptiness sometimes shines through."

his "tattoos" are no longer illegible when he turns into an error, they become common binary codes (the font used for these is Note This, ink's official font)

the red (magenta) eye is on the right side to somehow symbolize the blood his "scar" would cause

there is no yellow on his clothes to show how secretive he is, as he constantly hides half his face in his scarf

personality traits and extra facts!

as said before he is someone incredibly reserved, mostly because while being in his 5 senses he is afraid of his self without his doses of paints and tries to not attract attention

nonetheless, he likes being around people, he would probably travel across universes to hang out hidden in crowded places

the "specific situations" mentioned on the first part of the sheet refer, for the most part, to self-defense. but there may be other situations where he simply creates stuff that people ask for from time to time

compared to his original counterpart, he will take much longer to drain as he'll rarely use his powers

if he talks for too much time he'll glitch for an instant and forget everything he was saying. that is one of the reason he doesn't enjoy talking so much

when he's in the doodle sphere he often has momentary traumatic hallucinations, so he tries to leave that place as quickly as possible

these previously mentioned hallucinations also happen in panic situations or as a sign that the ingested paints are no longer effective

okie dokie i think that's all for now<3 if anything comes to my mind later or anytime i'll try to post it or smth! hope you like it🫶

ink sans by @/comyet

[kaylopolis]

Alastor's Shadow (18+) - Chapter Ten

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power… 

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

(Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List!)

____________________________________________

Author note: Dear Hoteliers, This episode was written after episode 7 of Helluva Boss but before Full Moon. Full Moon events have not yet happened. It's also shorter, as some of it was moved to chapter nine.

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Ten - Cute

Content Warning: Minors DNI!!!, Smut (let me know if I missed any)

“Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Oh, shit!” The imp dove behind the desk. “Look, I’m sorry! We did everything you asked! Okay! What more do you fucking want!?” 

You appeared in the middle of the office’s conference room, scaring the shit out of Blitz. It was deserted, save for the boss, who had been cleaning his prized horse figurine collection. 

“Mr. Radio Demon sir, please don’t kill me,” Blitz begged from behind the table.

You raised an eyebrow at Alastor, who had taken a seat in a chair and placed his microphone on the table.

“I may have hired him to corroborate your backstory.” The demon purred, his chin resting atop folded hands. Amusement sparked in his eyes.

Ah. Well, no wonder Blitz is terrified - he probably found a whole lot of weird shit. Which meant Alastor heard a whole bunch of weird shit. Which meant Alastor knew you were traipsing around Earth for the past 100 years before "falling" into Hell. Great.

You wondered if he knows about your friend who traipsed with you...

“Hey, Blitzy, why didn’t you tell me someone hired you to find information on me?” You did your best to give a sweet smile. The imp didn’t know you as the Shadow. He knew you as Thestral. Which is why you came dressed in your regular clothes. 

It was now Alastor’s turn to look confused.

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” His horns appeared over the table. “It’s the Radio Demon! He woulda killed me on the spot.” 

Hmm. True. 

“Where are Millie and Moxie? You can’t be a third wheel without the other two.” You ran a finger across the desk, feigning interest in the imp's affairs.

“What the fuck is this, a social visit? What do you want, and why did you bring him?” Blitz gestures to Alastor.

“Ignore him. He’s not important.” You think you heard Alastor growl - you did your best to ignore the butterflies it stirred within you. “Your fuck buddy owes me a favor. Where in Hell is he these days? Heard he finally left the bitch, but I didn't know if he got the house or…” 

“Okay,” the imp laughs as if that was the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard. “First of all, he’s not my fuck buddy. Where did you hear that?”

“Octavia,” you smiled. 

Yes, the famous Princess of the Night. You just so happened to run into her in the Pride Ring one night she ran away. The responsible thing would have been to return her to the Prince as soon as possible, but you ran into her as Thestral - the piano player at Mimzy’s. She thought you were the coolest. So you two went out, got drunk, and had a fun night. You returned her to Stolas eventually. He was so grateful and none the wiser. 

Octavia has ended up in your apartment a few more times since then. Hence why, you’ve run into the I.M.P. as they were recruited to help find her. 

Stolas loved you, and Octavia loved you. Blitz has mixed feelings towards you. You made his life harder, but you could keep up with his sense of humor, so that made you okay. He also may have made a pass at you, and you rejected him. Not cool. 

Blitz mumbled profanities under his breath before finally giving you an answer, “The Royal took his daughter topside for margaritas.” 

You shot him a dumb look, “Margaritas?” 

“Yeah, she’s been all excited about the human world ever since the fucking Hollywood incident. Stolas takes her on field trips now that she actually likes him again or some shit. I don’t know! It’s her rebellious teenage millennium.”

Great. 

You turned to Alastor, who was thoroughly happy that Stolas was trapped topside and out of reach. Perhaps he thought you would give up now and return to your cage?

But you didn’t give up easily and Lucifer was coming tomorrow. This had to happen now.

“Open it,” you commanded.

“What?” The imp’s voice cracked. 

Alastor frowned, desperately trying to hide his anger. “My darling, I don’t think…”

“Blitz,” you pulled a fat stack of cash from the Void - the remainder of Crim’s money. “Open it.” 

The imp was practically salivating at the sight. 

“Deal!” He swiped it from your hand before Alastor had a chance to protest. You turned to the Radio Demon and stared him down, your eyes daring him to try and stop you. 

Do it. Start a fight right here. You’d take him on. You were practically begging for a fight with the Overlord now. 

No more running, right Rosie? Time to face this head-on.

You were goating him, and he could tell. 

Blitz chanted the spell from the grimoire, and the portal cracked into being. 

“Ready?” You held an elbow out for Alastor, who sat unmoving in the chair beside you.

“Wait, you don’t have human disguises,” Blitz reminded you. 

“Oh, right,” you took the grimoire from his hands and flipped through a few pages before finding the right spell. 

“How the fuck…” Blitz’s jaw dropped. 

The story of this grimoire and you was for another time and another place.

You slid the book over to Alastor and plopped into the seat next to him - summoning a quill and an ink well. You had a human disguise - you had spent nearly a hundred years over there before ending up in Hell - but he didn’t. 

“I need to draw this on your skin,” you pointed to the symbol in the book. “Is that okay?” You asked cautiously. You knew the demon didn’t like to be touched.

His eye’s flit to Blitz. 

Ah, yes, he wouldn’t like an audience. 

“Get out,” you commanded. 

“Yeah, no problem!” He skitted out of the room. 

Your eye’s find Alastors - a deep crinkle weighing down his eyebrows. He was liking this plan less and less by the minute.  

You cleared your throat, the bubbles of anxiety filling your chest. “It needs to be drawn over the heart.” 

There’s no way Alastor was going to…

He stood, took his jacket off, and draped it over the chair. He loosened his black tie and unbuttoned his red suit vest. His eyes never leaving your face, he slowly undid the top buttons of his black collared shirt.

God, you were so jealous of his fingers. They got to undress him. You didn't.

He pulled the clothing aside to reveal the left side of his chest. 

You tried not to gasp, you really did, but the sight was just too shocking. The Radio Demon was covered in scars. You felt the blood drain from your face, the knot in your chest winding itself tighter and tighter until it was hard to breath. 

“Don’t fret too much, darling, these scars are not of this life,” his gaze was hot on your face, heating your cheeks. 

Your heart sank. Did that mean…? 

“These are not what killed me,” he answered as if reading your mind. 

You swallowed dryly, trying to find the ability to move once more. Dipping the quill in ink, you brought the feather to his chest. He stiffened at the contact of the tip against his skin, looking over his right shoulder, his jaw ticking with every stroke. You did your best not to touch him as much as possible as you drew. 

Alastor couldn't even look at you. God, he looked so uncomfortable.

Rosie’s words echo in your mind. “Alastor is scared too…”

You cleared your throat, "Play something for me?”

Alastor shot a questioning glare from the corner of his eye.

“Humor me,” you gave him a soft smile.

The demon thought a moment before his radio clicked through a few channels, finally landing on Louis Armstrong’s “Heebie Jeebies.”

You snorted, “Very funny.”

“I live to entertain, darling,” Alastor’s smile was half-hearted.

And it pained you.

“Why radio?” You ask, dabbing your pen in the ink well. “I mean, you could have done a lot of things in life, but why that?”

"Annonymity," Alastor answered after thinking a moment. "I enjoyed the power of captivating an audience while remaining invisible outside of the booth."

Your heart skipped a beat. Alastor liked staying in the shadows...

"I've heard the stories. Rosie said you remained nameless for a long time after your broadcasts went out. It's how you earned the name 'the Radio Demon.' There wasn't a face to attribute to the deaths until..." Your voice trailed off.

"Until Vox coaxed me from the shadows," there was a gleam in his eye.

You dropped your pen, "What happened with him exactly?"

"Hmmm," Alastor hummed. "For an attempt at a distraction, darling, you are doing a poor job at it." He teased.

Oh, right.

"Fine, what's your favorite song?" You asked instead.

The demon blinked. Did you say something you shouldn't have?

After a long while, he finally said, "I don't think anyone's ever asked me that before."

Your stomach dropped.

Alastor was many things. Alastor the Overlord, Alastor the Radio Demon, Alastor the radio host... And yet, Alastor the lonely was never a persona you thought he'd fill.

You know Alastor has friends - Rosie and Mimzy, for example - but what did that mean? He and Rosie were close, you didn't know anything about how deep his relationship was with Mimzy other than she knew him when she was alive. Yet, from the way Rosie treats him, she's more a mother than a friend. Mimzy seemed more like a friend you kept at arm's length, knowing her proclivity for attracting trouble - a.k.a, she couldn't be trusted completely.

So, who did Alastor have, really?

Husk? Yeah, no. Stupid question.

So, then...

"Shave 'em Dry' by Lucille Bogan*," you answered for him.

Alastor laughed so hard his face was in his hands. His laughter was infectious, and it brought forth giggles of your own. God, the way Alastor's natural joy warmed your heart.

The demon reached out, his other hand finding your fingers wrapped in the feather pen. His thumb stroked the top of your hand, eliciting goosebumps across your skin. Even through his gloves, his hands had a way of making your bones melt.

Alastor didn’t think he had a favorite song. He had never really entertained the thought, and he enjoyed so much of it all.

The demon ran his thumb across your hand to give himself time to think. He let his eyes bleed into your gaze, watching as you stifled a sharp intake of breath.

The demon had never really thought of his favorite song till the day you moved into the hotel, your red lips taunting him from the beginning. He never considered the flutter of feelings in his chest might be worthy of a song until you were dying in his arms. He never let himself consider the weight words of music held till he caught your beautiful voice singing in his kitchen.

The demon never considered he might have a favorite song till you gave him a reason to want, to desire...

“Unforgettable,” he smiled, “by Nat King Cole.”

He watched as your cheeks turned as red as your lips. “Alastor…”

God, he loved hearing his name fall from those lips.

“That’s a love song.”

Of course he knew that.

“Yes, darling, it is.” Alastor simply smiled, and that was enough to have the hair on the back of your neck standing on end.

He watched you nervously bite your lip and envied those teeth.

A sharp intake of breath, “I didn’t take you for a romantic….” You drew a few more strokes on his chest before finishing. This time, Alastor faced you and watched as you drew. He chuckled silently at the shake in your hand - he thought it adorable, really.

“You’ll find that there are many things about me..." Alastor ran his hand through your hair, cascading over your shoulder. He felt you shutter at the contact. The demon moved your hair aside with his finger, allowing a clear view of the bruises. Alastor smiled, "...that will surprise you."

He enjoyed seeing you flustered and speechless and decided the sight of you biting your red lips was his new favorite view. The sound of your heart skipping a beat in your chest and the little noise you make when he nibbles on your skin was his new favorite sound. The feel of your magic sparking to life as it reacted to his touch was his new favorite feeling. Satan’s mistress... Alastor the Radio Demon was discovering he had many favorites today.

Your gaze fell, your face heating as you tried to focus on the last few strokes of the rune on his chest. Your hand lingered a moment too long before you cleared your throat, “done.” 

The demon stood abruptly and faced away from you as he reassembled his ensemble. 

Jesus Christ, you were watching Alastor dress - so intimate an action, and yet you couldn't look away. Why didn't you at least offer to help with the buttons? Fuck, you prayed for the strength to get through today in one piece...

“Blitz,” you screamed for the imp when Alastor shrugged on his jacket once more. 

You handed the imp the grimoire. “Drinks on me next time?”

“Oh, Hell yes! You fucking owe me!”

You resisted the urge to point out that you just gave him a fuck ton of money. 

“Ready?” You held your elbow out to the demon. 

“Good luck!” Blitz called after you as you stepped through the portal. “You’re going to fucking need it.” He closed the portal behind you. 

You were in a dark alleyway, the sound of commotion far off. The world was warm and sunny - Hell, the sun. You hadn't seen real sunlight in years. Pulling Alastor to a half-broken mirror, you could see that you had transformed.

Your hair hung in waves down your back, no longer the silver of the damned but a beautiful natural blonde that matched your eyes. Your skin was pink and full of life, but much the rest remained the same.

God, had it been six years already since you were here? The image was quite a shock - a reminder of what came before your life flipped upside down and you packed your bags for the Underworld. 

You caught Alastor staring, your cheeks turning red. A blush crept up Alastor’s neck, the same color as his suit jacket. 

“Your turn,” you smiled, suddenly extremely self-conscious of your appearance. Say, " Transformare.”

“Transformare.” A whirlwind wiped around the alley, twirling its way up Alastor’s body. His skin transformed to a creamy tan, his hair darkening to a light brown, but in the morning sun, at just the right angle, it had a red tint to it. His ears and antlers disappeared as his hair shortened. It was long and curly on top but with a shortened buzz cut around the base. His monocle was replaced with a small pair of reading glasses sitting at the edge of his nose. His eyes stayed their usual red, however, and his canines were sharper than average for a mortal - a reminder that he was not fully human.

Alastor’s entire body went rigid. 

The spell you had used wasn’t simply a disguise spell - it was a sort of rejuvenation spell. The Radio Demon was now staring at the reflection of his former living self. 

Ooooooh, the French, the Voodoo, his taste for jambalaya. Alastor was Creole. "This face was made for radio..." It suddenly made sense...

Alastor ran a hand through his hair in complete disbelief. Cute. The thought hit your brain subconsciously, and you dropped your gaze so he wouldn't see.

“I should have warned you,” it came out as a whisper. 

Alastor took a shallow breath. “No. No. I’m glad you didn’t. I don’t think I would have come if you had.” 

Oh… Why did that make your heart sink? 

You both stood a minute longer, Alastor’s eyes glued to the mirror before taking your arm in his. 

“Shall we?” He asked. 

You nodded. 

Weaving between alleyways, you finally rounded the corner and were met with the deafening roar of people and music. 

“What the…” 

You popped out onto the street in a huge crowd, confetti filling the air, beads being tossed, a band marching down the street. It was an absolute madhouse. 

Alastor laughed next to you as people tried to shove their way around you. He protectively wrapped an arm around your middle, bringing you into him. The rumble of his laugh vibrated through his chest and into yours. His scent overcame you, numbing your senses and clouding your mind with thoughts of him holding you close.

He still smelled like himself. Like the forest after rain...

“Mardi Gras!” A genuine smile formed across his face. “He didn’t say margaritas. He meant Mardi Gras!” 

Oh, shit. You were in New Orleans, the French Quarter specifically - Alastor’s birthplace and hometown. 

You had inadvertently brought Alastor home. 

People shuffled by you in wild outfits of greens, purples, and golds. Feathers and beads decorated an ocean of partygoers hidden beneath masks. 

“Oh, this won’t do,” his eyes were on you now, analyzing your outfit. “If I’m to escort you around New Orleans during Mardi Gras, you certainly can’t dress like that.” With a flick of his wrist, your outfit changed. 

Alastor dressed you in a dress with numerous yellow ruffled skirts and thin straps of tied ribbon holding it up. Your hair had curled into a cute bob iconic of the 1930s, and a mask of yellow feathers completed the look. The top edge of your tattoo was visible beneath the dress, but instead of its iconic silver shade, it had faded to black. Humans have all sorts of tattoos in this day and age; no one would be any the wiser... Besides, Alastor couldn't see anything but the very top of it... He wouldn't know what it was just from that...

Alastor’s suit changed into a matching set of gold, a fedora to accompany, complete with a yellow mask of felt. “Absolutely beautiful, darling,” he grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers with his. His black leather gloves were soft in your hand. “Now, where to?” 

You pushed down the creep of blush running up your neck and tried to think. You were here for a reason, and it wasn't to ogle at the Overlord, no matter how slim his waist looked in gold or how badly you wanted to run your fingers through his curls...

If Octavia was here then hopefully the card was too. You dug deep behind your navel, searching for the familiar tug of the obsidian calling card you had given the Princess all those years ago. 

She didn’t know what it was when you gave it to her, a precaution for her to use in case she ever got into any trouble. It only worked when you were on the same plane, however, so when she ran away to Hollywood, she couldn't use it to contact you. Now that you are both topside, you should be able to find her. 

There. 

“This way,” you screamed over your shoulder, pulling the Radio Demon through the crowd behind you. 

Pushing through the crowd hurt, but you were on a mission, and the parade was far from over. Finally, you made it to a place called the Hotel Royal - a cute two-story corner hotel just off the main road. Dipping inside, the building led to a courtyard filled with live music and dancing. Off to one side was a bar, complete with a fountain at the center of the cobblestones. Two rows of balconies encircled the yard, with more people dancing and drinking throughout. 

“It’s still here!” Alastor curled in next to you, his hand on your hip, allowing others to pass as you surveyed the scene. 

You shot him a questioning look. 

“Come this way,” he pulled you to the bar, complete with a wooden backdrop. He tugged you down under the bar stool, his fingers running over the wooden panel. “Here!” He screamed over the music. Beneath his fingers were two names etched into the wood: Marcel Gerard and Alastor Hartfelt**.

Holy shit. 

“My mother cleaned for the hotel when we were strapped for cash. She’d bring me along to play with the owner’s son.” The demon smiled at the carving. 

There it was, that concoction of butterflies and bubbles that made you queasy. What was happening? Rosie’s words flitted through your mind again as you surveyed the demon, smiling at the wood. 

You felt terrified, but you were… excited about it? Alstor’s hand was still in yours, your fingers intertwined. It was… nice. The demon hated touch, but here you were, hand in hand. 

Was this romance?

All of last night comes rushing back - of Alastor's hand in yours, of the demon's fists bunched in your pajama bottoms, of his mouth on your lips.

You knew the smell of vanilla was going to hit before it even graced your nose.

You didn't really know what romance was, but you wanted to.

Fuck, you wanted this. You wanted him.

And it terrified you. 

Because if Alastor knew who you were and what you carried with you, he'd kill you...

Fuck.

Alastor would kill you.

You dropped his hand and stood. 

“Is everything alright?” The demon's smile dropped, his face crinkling in concern. 

Before you could find an excuse to explain away your weird behavior, you felt the tug. She was here. 

You spun, surveilling the dance floor. There, in the middle of a group of girls was the tallest human girl you had ever seen. Her dark hair cascaded down her back into a pool of purple tips. She wore a Green dress, her mask covered in glittery sequins, which exploded into a bloom of peacock feathers above her head. 

Octavia. 

You pushed your way through the crowd and tapped her shoulder. She spun, clearly a little tipsy, before her eyes lit up in recognition. “What are you doing here!?” She screamed over the music, bringing you into a hug. You winced when she let you go, grabbing your arms and twirling you about. 

“Same as you!” You lied. “To enjoy the festivities! Where’s your father?” 

“Dad?” She stopped spinning you. “Over here, come with me!” 

She dragged you to the side of the dance floor, where an extremely tall gentleman was sitting in a chair. He twirled the straw in his drink, a glum look plastered across his face. That was until he saw you and Octavia standing before him. He lit up at the sight of you and brought you into a bone-crushing hug. 

“Hi, Stolas,” you managed to breathe out. He dropped you, and you stumbled back into a strong pair of arms: Alastor. 

The Radio Demon bowed to the Royal, “Your Highness.”

“Oh, please, that’s unnecessary,” he waved awkwardly. Stolas hated the attention. He always has. 

The music turned to a dirty jazz, a song Alastor perked his ears up at. 

“You mind distracting the Princess for a moment,” you whisper-screamed into his ear.  

You’d hate dragging her into this. 

His smile turned cockeyed - a knowing grin. He grabbed your hand and placed a kiss atop it. “Of course, ma cherie.”

He grabbed the Princess and twirled her about, dragging her onto the dance floor. You’d heard from Rosie about Alastor's dancing skills. He could kill it on the dance floor. 

Turning back to Stolas, your smile faltered. “I’m afraid I’m not here for fun. I need to call in that favor.” 

“Oh,” he collapsed back into his chair, looking disappointed. God, he looked so lonely. 

The waiter came to take your order: a glass of red and two fingers of rye. 

You pulled a piece of paper from the Void and handed it to him. He read it. Then, read it again. He eyed you suspiciously. “And what do you need this for?” 

“Got into trouble a little while back. I need to take some… necessary precautions.” And Stolas was the only person you knew who knew the spell. Well… He was the only person you knew willing to share it with you. Fucking Goetia and their secrets. They had a whole ass society based on them.

He waited for you to elaborate further, but you didn’t. 

“Very well,” he pulled a quill from the void, awaiting your arm expectantly. “I’m assuming you have the ink?”

You summoned the white liquid from the Void - you took it off Cain after he died. 

The waiter returned not long after, shooting you two a weird look as the demon drew a mark on your arm in sparkly white ink. The liquid was mixed with the bones of a saint - it had to be for the spell to work. 

Your mind turned to the dance floor as you sipped the Cabernet. Alastor was twirling the poor girl around and around in a flurry of drunken giggles. At least she was having fun, and so was the Overlord. A genuine smile plastered across his face as the saxophone dived into a solo. Watching him enjoy himself warmed your heart but also pained it. 

Were you going to tell him?

“Such strange company you keep,” Stolas interrupted your thoughts. Of course, he recognized the Radio Demon. 

“Like I said, necessary precautions.” You shot him a fake smile. You decided to pivot the conversation. “How are you, Stolas?” You genuinely wanted to know. 

“It has been hard,” the Prince started. “But my little owlette has been keeping me busy.” He half-heartedly laughs. 

“I heard about Hollywood. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help.”

“It’s quite alright. You have done so much for us already. Besides, I’m glad it happened. We’ve grown closer because of it.” He smiled at his daughter on the dance floor. 

Your heart panged. Pulling a key from the Void, you slowly pushed it across the table. “You’ll find the cabin on the outskirts of Levitowne in Envy. It’s well-hidden and private. Just in case. I’ve heard the stories.”

He eyes the key, then eyes you. He knows Human Sinners can't leave the Pride Ring. He knows there is no way you could ever have gone to Envy, let alone secured a home. There are questions swimming in his eyes, you know he’s thinking if he can trust you. You hope your actions in the past prove true. 

Besides, you needed powerful allies in your back pocket for what you were planning...

“Thank you.” 

Oh, thank the Lord. 

“You always have an ally in Pride, of course. If you ever need it, I’ll drop everything and run.”

A smile found his face again. “You always do.” He returns your forearm to you. You watch the ink set into your skin, its white sparkle fading into black. You hoped that was a good sign. You slip the ink well back into the Void. 

“I hope it works,” the Prince eyes the tattoo now visible on your forearm. “For your sake.”

For everyone's sake.  

“Dad!” The Princess practically falls onto your table. She scrambles for the Prince’s arm. “Come! I must show you this dance Al taught me!” 

Al?

The demon appears next to you, his forehead shining with sweat. He fixes his mask on his face and runs a hand through his wild hair. He laughs and says something to the Princess in French. “Merci pour cette belle danse, chérie.”

She giggles and responds in the language. “Arrête de traîner et fais-le déjà!” 

Since when does she know French!?

“Comment sais-tu que c'est ce qu'elle veut?” Alastor asks. 

Wait a minute; you’re an Angel, you know every language. You flipped the switch in your mind.

“Je vois la façon dont vous vous regardez. Tu as déjà son cœur... mais elle ne le sait pas encore! She just doesn't know it yet!” Octavia laughs hysterically as she drags her father into the crowd. She winks at you as she disappears behind a wall of bodies. 

The Radio Demon shirks off his coat and hangs it over the back of your chair. 

“Do I want to know what that was all about?” You raise an eyebrow questioningly, handing him the drink you ordered for him. 

He downs it in one gulp, then collapses into the chair across from you. "Just a bit of teasing," he laughs, motioning to the two of them on the dance floor. Kicking his legs out in front of him and leaning back in the chair. "The Princess is a quick study."

Hmm...

You sipped your wine. From your seat, you could see the Princess attempting to spin Stolas in the same way you had watched Alastor spin her. The height difference made it difficult, but the Prince was beaming regardless. 

“I didn't realize you were fluent in French?” You asked. 

“Darling, I could speak French before I could walk.” He smiles, his Southern accent slipping through. You were surprised but should have guessed. He was a New Orleans native turned Radio Host Star, of course he adopted the Transatlantic accent. Yet, his words curled around you and whisked your breath away. 

The music changes abruptly, slowing in tempo. You watch as dancers paired off, swaying with the music. Stolas and Octavia have disappeared completely. You’re not worried - the Princess can handle anything thrown at her in this realm. It was Stolas who needed a babysitter. 

You turn to take another sip of your drink but find Alastor leaning on the table. His eyes half-lidded, his smile tipped up in a cockeyed grin, he holds a gloved hand out expectantly. 

“May I have this dance?” He purrs, sending a shiver down your spine. 

Your heart skips a beat at the desire glowing in his eyes. He was captivating, all-consuming. He looked at you like the rest of the world didn’t exist. Like it was just you and him in this club right now. 

“Okay,” you slipped your hand in his. He led you from the table to the fountain at the center of the courtyard. Bringing your hand to his shoulder, he found your waist and pulled you a beat closer, careful of your wounds. You weren’t touching, other than your grips, but the proximity would have been considered scandalous in his day. 

He led you around the dancefloor in a slow waltz, matching the speed of the music. You were a terrible dancer; at every ball you attended in Heaven, you found some way to weasel out of it early. You never danced unless required, finding comfort on the sidelines, preferring to hide in the crowd than be out on display. 

You originally became the Shadow for that very reason - you hated eyes on you. You hated the spotlight. You preferred to work behind the scenes, behind a mask. It was more comfortable there. 

Your eyes slipped down to your feet as Alastor led. You did your best to match his, terrified of stepping on his toes. He had a reputation as a fabulous dancer, after all. 

“Eyes on me, darling,” he said, placing a finger under your chin and guiding your face to meet his. 

The cold steel of red softened as you held his gaze. The room fell away, the music lulling you into a world of your own. Alastor pulled you a beat closer, your chest heaving against his. Your heart rammed against your ribs, and you prayed the demon couldn’t hear it; you prayed he couldn’t smell the adrenaline running through your veins or the vanilla wafting off you in droves. 

You were terrified; you wanted to jump out of your skin and run, but his gaze kept you cemented to his side, like a bird trapped in a cage. Yet the cage didn’t feel like a prison. It didn’t even feel like a cage at all. It was freeing. Like you could take off into flight knowing the sanctity of protection forever remained.

No more running. 

“Alastor, last night..." You swallowed dryly, "was what happened... only about Vox?”

Alastor's eyes lit up in amusement as he pondered. “Hmmm, no.” Your heart skipped a beat. “Although I do admit jealousy is not an emotion I am accustomed to.”

He was jealous. You were right. So, does that mean...?

You smiled nervously. Thank God Alastor was wearing gloves right now because your palms were sweating. "So you didn’t know about the date when it was happening then?”

The demon ran his hands through your hair, giving him a clear view of your bruised neck. “I assure you, ma cherie, had I known about it at the time, Vox would not currently be breathing.” The demon leaned in, his breath hot on your face. “I do not like it when someone tries to take what is mine.”

Butterflies erupted in your chest, stealing the air from your lungs. “Mine?” You breathed, your mind fully aware of the closeness of his lips, of the demon leaning in more and more as you swayed.

“Mine.” Alastor growled as his mouth found yours.

It was far softer this time. Last night, Alastor was hungry; now he kissed you like a delicacy he wanted to savor - like he had nowhere to be and all the time in the world to be nowhere.

The demon cupped your cheek, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. He held you like you might flee from his grip, like you might fade away beneath his fingers if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

You tipped up on to your toes, leaning your body into him, letting your hands fist the lapels of his suit jacket. The taste of rye flooded your mouth as Alastor's tongue found its way between your teeth. You moaned into him as little bolts of Alastor's static zipped across your skin.

Your senses were on fire as the demon threaded his fingers through your hair. God, you set a mental reminder to wear your hair down more often, if only to feel Alastor's fingers play with it as he kissed you.

You pushed your magic through the connection and actually felt Alastor's adrenaline surge through his veins. The demon spun the two of you around, walking you backward to the brick wall. His lips never left yours, his soft kisses turning hungrier.

With one hand fisting in your hair, his other trailed down your side, and you actually whined when he skipped your breasts and went straight for your hips.

"Such a greedy little thing," he murmured against your lips as he pressed his waist into you.

You yelped.

Jesus Christ, he was hard.

Fuck you knew Alastor was big, but you didn’t really know. That day in the bayou, when you ground your hips into him, you only stuck around long enough to feel the beginning of his erection and not the process of it.

You threw your hands around his neck, needing the extra leverage to arch your body into him. Your fingers brushed the base of his hair, reminding you of the earlier itch to play with his curls. So you did just that. It was different, not having the antlers or the ears, but his hair was so soft, softer than his short-cropped red hair in Hell. The curls wrapped your fingers as you played with it before grabbing hold. The demon growled into your mouth, his hot tongue swiping over yours, his hands falling from your hair straight to your hips.

The demon used his teeth to pull off a glove, before moving lower and grabbing hold of your skirt...

"Alastor!" You gasped, trying to break apart, but Alasotr held you firmly in his grasp. "We're in public!"

The demon's chuckles rumbled through your chest, his forehead never leaving yours, “Ah, and yet we are completely alone."

You blinked.

What?

You surveyed the room, which was thoroughly on fire. Blues and greens bled into the walls and furniture, slowly overtaking the building. Your and Alastor's magic had ignited at some point during your kiss, billowing out of control and spilling out into the world around you.

The crowd must have run at the sight of the flames, and yet you heard none of it. The two of you were too completely and absolutely entranced with one another to notice.

"Oh," you squeaked.

The demon pressed his lips to your ear, his voice deep and smokey as he said, “You started sparking the second I asked you to dance.”

Shit. You weren’t paying attention. Your mind was elsewhere…

Alastor's hands moved again, bunching your skirts in his fist to allow access to...

"Oh, my God!" You yelped as Alastor cupped your sex.

"I assure you, darling, he had nothing to do with this," the demon growls.

Alastor moved your underwear aside, his finger separating your folds, feeling your wetness...

"Al...Alastor!" You gasped as a finger entered you.

"That's better," he smiled.

"What happened to waiting till I'm healed?" Your nails dug into his shoulders as he started to move. Tiny gasps escaped your lungs as he slipped in and out of you.

It was a foreign feeling for you; you had never had this kind of stimulation before, but GOD did it feel good. When did you get so wet? It was like your body knew what was happening before you did and was already prepared.

"I don't know if you noticed, ma cherie," the demon catches your gaze, his irises flashing back and forth between pupils and radio dials, "but I'm fighting restraint." His lips ghost over yours, his grip on your waist hardening. "And I'm losing terribly."

The demon's lips swallow your moans as a second finger presses in. First knuckle. Second knuckle. In and out. In and out.

Jesus, Alastor was teasing you.

How rude.

You bit down on Alastor's bottom lip as you ground down into his hand, your body begging for more friction. The demon moaned this time, his hips bucking on instinct.

He pressed into you, his knee coming to rest between your thighs to give himself more leverage. You could feel it, though, the throb of his dick in his pants.

You reached out to cup him through his pants - to do exactly what you didn't know. You'd never done anything like this before, but your body, heart, and mind were screaming at you - want, want, want!

Alastor pulled his hips back, just out of reach. You actually whined when your fingers met nothing but air.

"Uh, uh, darling, it's my turn to play." He growled, the vibrations reverberating through your chest.

"But, Al-!" You started to protest, but then Alastor curled his fingers, and the pleasure wave that rolled through you had you gasping for breath. It was so much more.

Somewhere, off in the distance, there was a crash, but your mind was too numb to process it.

"There it is," the demon smiled against your cheek, clearly proud of the control he had over you, over your body. The demon placed a kiss on your cheek as you continued to grind down into his hand. His mouth trailed to your neck...

You collapsed into the demon when his teeth bit down, not enough to draw blood, but enough to nibble, to send your skin alight with his static. The demon sucked and then licked at the sore spot with his forked tongue, soothing the pain. Your hands clenched in his suit jacket for stability as your legs begin to give out, your climax building.

Alastor's hands thrust up into you harder, his other hand pressing down on your lower abdomen. Jesus, why did that make everything feel so much better?

"Cum for me, darling." He commanded his lips on your neck. Nipping. Sucking. Licking.

"Al, I'm... Oh, God!" And you obeyed.

You screamed into his shirt, your walls twitching around him as you rode that wave of ecstasy. It wasn't like before, like in your dream. Then your pussy throbbed on nothing but air, but now, now Alastor filled you with his warmth, and the high was so so much better.

Alastor continued to pump into you until your thighs stopped convulsing around him, your walls desperately milking his fingers for more. Each small thrust of Alastor's hand had your body shaking, had the pleasure prolonging more and more. The demon held you up against the wall, your legs nothing but jelly, your mind numb, and your thoughts muddled.

You swore you heard glass break.

Alastor kissed you on the top of the head, "Good girl."

You moaned when he slipped out of you, his other hand fixing the skirt of your dress. God, how could anyone function after something like that?

"Mmmmmm," Alastor hummed, sucking his fingers dry. "Heavenly." The demon shot you a knowing smile. He wrapped a finger around your chin, tilting your head towards his. "You always taste so sweet."

Goddamn...

The look of pride in Alastor's eyes made your heart swell as he whispered, “We should probably leave, ma cherie, before we burn the place to the ground.” 

Somewhere in you, you found your bones again. Forcing clarity into your mind, you not only registered fire, but the building itself had begun to crumble. Walls had collapsed, glass had broken, and the bar was in shambles. The only thing still standing was the brick wall surrounding you, as if the blue and green magic knew to protect the pleasure swimming between the two of you.

Well, shit. Your orgasm had practically leveled a building.

Wait.

"What about you?" You raised an eyebrow, gesturing to his pants. Still weak, you continued to hold on to his shirt, letting the scent of musk swirl around your numb brain.

God, you never wanted to move again.

Alastor tipped his head back and laughed, "Oh, darling, let's just say I have ruined another pair of perfectly good trousers."

Your cheeks heated. Wait, did that mean that he...? Wait. Wait. Wait. What does he mean by "another"...?

The sound of sirens brought you back to the situation. You needed to leave, but first...

You shot Alastor a smug look, his hands still wrapped around your chin as you - SNAP! The colored fire disappeared. The demon tipped his head back and laughed again before planting one last kiss on your lips. 

Rolf shadowed you outside to the alley. The building was plagued with blackened walls, the air impregnated with ash. The structure was crumbling in on itself. You had left mere seconds before being crushed.

Holy, shit, you did that.

"I'm sorry," you apologized, your stomach dropping. "That was a childhood memory, and I destroyed it..."

"And made a new memory," Alastor smiled at you, running his thumb across your cheek.

He wasn't mad. If anything, he looked proud.

Alastor laughed at the sight before taking your hand. “Come, I want to show you something.” He led you back out onto the street, your legs jelly as you followed after him.

Out of the chaos, he sat you on a bench a few blocks down before disappearing into a storefront. He came out a few moments later with a donut topped in green, gold, and purple sprinkles. 

“A King Cake,” he called it, breaking it in half for you. “Winner finds the baby.”

You scrunched your nose in confusion, making him laugh.

“An old French tradition,” he took a bite. “To celebrate the coming of the Three Kings. A small object is hidden in the dough; whoever finds the trinket - a small plastic baby Jesus - is brought luck and prosperity for the next year.” 

You giggled, “Why does it feel fitting that a former Angel and a cannibalistic demon are sitting on a bench in the human realm eating a metaphorical baby Jesus?” You took a bite. 

He laughed. “Yes, if Mother could see me now.”

Your heart sank. “What was your mother like?”

His eyes wandered off as if viewing a memory. “She was the kindest soul. Her smile lit up a room, her laugh infectious. She could make the sun shine on a rainy day and cure anything with a bowl of her jambalaya.”

Ah, that’s where he learned that recipe. 

“She would have adored you,” he smiled to himself, tilting his head. 

You forgot about the pastry for a second. Placing your hand in his, you squeezed. “And I’m sure I would have adored her.” You smiled at each other for a moment before returning to the cake. 

“You know, when they sent me down here in search of Eve, I went everywhere; New York, L.A., London, Tokyo, Prague, Moscow, you name it. Yet, I never made my way to New Orleans. We might have met if I had.” You giggled. 

“And did you find her?” 

“Who?”

“Eve.”

You froze, finally realizing your mistake. 

“Ma cherie?” Alastor leaned forward into your vision, worry creasing his face. 

Oh, fuck. 

“Uhm!” You jumped to your feet, wincing from the pain. “We should… We should go.” The words tumbled out of your mouth in a panic. “The Hotel needs work before Lucifer shows up and I’m sure Charlie is panicking right now. You know how she gets when she’s stressed. And I haven’t seen them in two weeks nor have I checked in with Husk and Angel after I collapsed. They’re probably worried sick. And I… And I…” You were hyperventilating now. “And I should help clean up the Hotel. You’re the Manager so you should definitely be there. What if Nifty get’s stuck again and…”

Alastor gripped your face in his hands, forcing you to look into his eyes. 

“You need to calm down, darling, you’re on fire.” He said calmly. 

You looked down at your hands to see green flames licking your skin. You jumped back out of Alastor’s grip. “No. No. No.” You repeated to yourself under your breath, trying desperately to smother the flames. 

The demon tried again to reach out for you, but you held up a hand and backed away. “Don’t touch me.” You snapped. 

He froze right on the spot, his look of concern melting into cold steel. “I’m only trying to help.”

“Don’t!” You held a finger up to him. “I don’t need your help. I didn’t ask for it.” 

Both his eyebrows rose in surprise, “Oh? Come now, darling, there’s no need to be mean.” 

You needed to get away from him. You snapped your fingers, and a portal to Hell appeared. Alastor’s look of surprise was not lost on you. 

You were far, far more powerful than he thought. 

He raised an eyebrow in question, staring at the cracks in reality surrounding the portal. “Keeping secrets, are we? What happened to our quid-pro-quo, darling?” 

Your heart cracked. You couldn’t tell him. Not because you didn’t trust him but because you were afraid. He wouldn’t understand. He would never look at you the same again. 

And he'd kill you in a heartbeat.

You didn't know what would be worse, seeing the look of betrayal flash across his face or him actually stabbing you in the heart with a Carmine blade.

You sniffed, tears threatening to spill, "I... I'm sorry. I can't..."

“Apparently,” he mumbled. “Well,” he summoned his microphone, twirled it behind his back, and nodded to you. “Don’t let me keep you waiting.” 

His look of disbelief had been replaced with his mask, the same look reserved for everyone else but you - the Radio Demon persona. Something in his gaze made you realize the cavern you had created between the two of you - the silent battle waged between you by simply denying him the truth.

And to Alastor, the truth was everything. You had promised. Yet, here you are breaking it a mere days later.

It didn't go against your contract, technically. The information didn't benefit you both, but he didn't know that.

You practically ran through the portal, closing it behind you, when you heard Alastor step through. You dashed up the steps and flung yourself into your room and onto your bed in a heap of sobs. 

The door rattled off his hinges, swinging to reveal Rolf waiting for you on the precipice. The shadow looked devastated as he desperately tried to enter the room, but the wards you put up after Angel’s incident still held. No matter how hard he tried, he wasn't getting in. 

And when he finally realized that, a look of hurt spread across his face which had your heart breaking all over again. 

“What the fuck,” Angel appeared in the doorway, sidestepping the shadow. Realizing the situation, he quickly closed the door and collected you in your arms. 

You sobbed as the spider demon held you...

Translate the last line of French, I dare you. (I'm also lowkey so curious to know ya'll's theories)

*Shave 'em Dry bu Lucille Bogan is considered one of the most scandalous and lewd jazz songs of the 1930s: Link

** Yes, this is a Vampire Diaries reference! Same hotel, too.

-> Chapter Eleven

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added!):

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @goyablogsstuff @mommymilkers0526

@eris-norwega @missgirlsstuff @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog @sillywormtrixareforkids @its-a-dam-blue-brick

@cloverresin20 @blue-bird251 @speedycoffeedelight @littlebluefishtail @sawi1987 @mopeyghost @beelz3bub

@fraugwinska @minamilinaqueen @demoarah

[meanbossart]

ASK COMPILATION: LORE, CHARACTERIZATION, AND THE ONE IN WHICH I RUIN A BUNCH OF PEOPLE'S FUN

As usual, this is far from all of the asks in my inbox but I'm trying to catch up 😩thank you everyone for your patience!

For the record, if your ask isn't being answered, that most likely means one of three things:

I am saving it as a possible art prompt.

I sincerely don't have a very interesting or good reply for it yet!

It's a question I have been asked multiple times/the answer is in my pinned post.

Glad you like them!!

As much as I don't limit what I draw to canonical events, vampirism is so antithetical to DU drow's character journey that I couldn't really envision it, to be honest, but who knows! Maybe I'll cook up some Ascended Astarion scenario someday that is kind of a role-reversal of the Bhaalist DU Drow AU I have going on in tandem to the story.

I'll be honest, this is one of the rare times where I'm really not sure which aspect of DU drow's weirdness this is in reference to. Do you know something I don't? 😅

His masochism is very... Classic, I guess? He's in it for the pain and for the emotional connection, and the process of being pierced wouldn't cut it whatsoever, it's too subtle. The body modifications he has are an incidental result of it, but they were never really the goal.

Also having stuff dangling off his face or body would just irritate him, he specifically only does rings because all other types of jewellery get in the way too much. Pre-tadpole Bhaalist drow obviously wore them by the ton, but only as a symbol of status and because he had a permanent new-money complex🤷 so yeah not a piercing-type of character at all, sorry!

He's smooth from the eyelashes-down and profoundly weirded out by body hair LOL

I don't personally think that whatever Astarion had for a home before would bear my resemblance to it after 200 years - having probably gone through several owners, remodeled, if not completely lost to the destruction of the end-game. I do HC that he used to visit it whenever he could as an enthralled spawn to read his mail, but he stopped after his father passed.

THANK YOU, I THINK? I can't say that isn't a passionate description at least!

I'm honestly surprised that this comes up as often as it does LOL but it's just an stylistic choice on my end!

The latter - for sure. He figured that them dying at each other's hands at the end was a given and took that assumption entirely for granted (and I'm sure daydreamed about it often while Gortash went on and on about political strategy during their dinner meetings.)

;))) way ahead of you and by "way ahead" I mean "eventually and whenever I can figure out when to do it alongside the other 30 ideas I am currently juggling" (but I really do want to make a little comic out of it!)

He used them! Not immediately, but he grew to trust the guardian after some initial suspicion and happily gobbled up those squirmy little things alongside Astarion. Because I made his character on a whim and without any planned backstory, I didn't really put any thought into his Guardian's appearance either, so she's just a human woman with a Joan of Arc look going on who's of no significance to him or his past.

But DU drow did trust her, again not immediately but eventually. It was honestly a big kick in the gut to him when the Emperor revealed himself and it definitely set their relationship up to fail from the get-go.

This is also why he didn't ascend to the next stage of Ilithid power, he just stomped the thing dead right on the spot LOL

LMAO I think Gortash is too proud to chase a tail he can't catch like that

He was probably very overwhelmed by the sudden realization that OH, THIS IS ALL HAPPENING BECAUSE OF ME which naturally didn't come across whatsoever to anyone present since he immediately bottled it up and tucked it away out of sight. However, as the story progressed and DU drow helped his friends get out of their respective pickles he was probably able to justify it to himself as it having been for the greater good - since it led to Astarion being freed from his master and Shadowheart to defying the Sharrans.

As for all of the rest of the ensued destruction and death that resulted from it? Well you can't make an omelette without cracking some eggs, or whatever is the wizard version of that saying. He has essentially turned the entire situation into a net-positive in his mind and sleeps great at night because of it.

[cassiebones]

Please Chill

Please, I am begging you all to chill out. I'm speaking specifically to my wlw Agatha fans right now. Even more specifically to the ones who are angry that the last episode revolved around Teen/Billy.

He is a main fucking character. His backstory is important to the plot. We only get nine episodes in this series and the plot needs to move forward. We cannot do that without revealing who he is and what his motivations are, from a storytelling standpoint.

I studied creative writing in college. I worked really fucking hard to get into my program, too. I took classes on novel writing, mainly, but also in screenwriting and playwriting. I took classes on TV writing in the mid 2010's at a time where the trend was shifting to streaming services putting out entire fucking seasons at a time.

But I remember having to wait a week for an episode of a show I loved. I remember what happened to my favorite wlw characters. I remember being absolutely devastated by Lexa's death in The 100. I know you're scared of it happening again, but there is so much evidence on the contrary to prove that it's not going to happen here.

Firstly, I don't think for a second that some of the actresses who signed up for this would have done so if they thought they were going to pull the same shit. I don't think Jac or Kathryn or fucking Aubrey, who legit said that she signed up because it's a queer show, would do that.

But i don't know. Because the show isn't over. We have three episodes left over the next two weeks. I, like you all, am praying that they're not about to pull some bullshit, especially considering the majority of their current fanbase is comprised of queer people.

But you can't just call them lesbophobic because they focused on a canonically gay character rather than your favorite lesbian ship for one(1) episode. They have confirmed that Rio and Agatha are estranged exes. They showed us so much flirting and yearning and longing. From a storytelling standpoint, they are building that tension for a great payoff. Its's gonna happen. Please, just be patient.

I was upset, too. I did not want them to shift focus to Billy. When I saw that that was going to be the majority of the episode, I was upset. I made a couple posts about it. But I still watched and it was honestly a pretty good, important episode. And fucking funny as all hell. We truly saw the aftermath of Wanda's actions. Wanda, who wasn't trying to be malicious or harmful, but she still caused so much harm.

As much as I would have loved to see Rio, I understand why she wasn't in this episode just yet, but she'll likely be in the next one. It was probably only like 2 minutes after he threw them into the mud that Agatha crawled out. Also we see Lilia and Jen in future promos, so they'll be fine.

I predict that the next three episodes are going to be longer and more plot heavy moving forward. I really hope we see more of Agatha's delusions from the POV of Rio, because Kathryn Hahn and Aubrey are fucking hilarious and I know it's going to be just as funny as last night's Teen POV.

I want to see people theorizing about the next three episodes and what's going to happen and how they're going to rectify anything, but I'm seeing so many negative posts about why your favorite lesbians didn't kiss or fuck yet on this Disney show. Please, just be fucking patient. It's coming.

That being said, if I am wrong, I will be the first to admit it and be super salty about it. I hope I'm not, but who knows? I'm not going to make a snap decision either way. You shouldn't either.

[coldinternetllama]

My thoughts on Maomao and her parents

Spoilers for Maomao's backstory and maybe for some future instances in the LNs. Also this is not a proper analysis, do not expect much structure, lol

One of the saddest things to me in this story is that Maomao probably craved Fengxian's love until the very end, regardless of what she is saying. After all, who wouldn't want to feel their own mother's love, right? Maomao keeps saying that she doesn't know how to love, however I believe this is simply a coping mechanism for her. We know that she loves Luomen, her sisters, the Granny, even Xiaolan and Loulan (yes, I do think she loved them). Hell, she also has "certain affections" for our beloved red flag, as she herself states in her mind. Yet she doesn't classify any of that as love proper. Instead, she comes back to the cut tip of her pinky and repeats her favorite phrase about how she left that feeling somewhere in the past. There where she also left her mother, who is now just the woman who gave birth to her. Still, she administered Fengxian's medicine time and time again. Still she set up the perfect opportunity for Lakan to find her. Still she danced for her under the night sky with a heavily injured leg. Still she bowed to her remains and played her last game of go for her. I don't think she had it in herself to love the woman who pushed her away, but part of Maomao wanted to love her, I believe. And to be loved back. Granted, Luomen and the women at Verdigris house did their best to raise Maomao, but it wasn't enough to replace what could have been.

If anything, our dear apothecary is probably more frustrated than anything. She doesn't hate her parents, no. I would go as far as to say that she actually feels bad for them ( I mean, who wouldn't). Of course, she would never admit that, which leads to her other coping mechanism, namely her extremely abrasive language when referring to Fengxian and Lakan (come on now, breeding mare and stallion? Girl, chill). She would rather feign indifference, lest she has to confront her feelings, which is her least favorite thing to do, as we know. After all, it's these two people's feelings that got them all to that state. If even such intelligent people could make such a blunder because of feelings, why would she want to feel love or be loved? This is also reflected in the scene where she is telling Jinshi that she wants to be executed with poison. Jinshi answers that he would never execute her. Maomao's answer? It doesn't matter what he wants to do, it only matters if he CAN do it. To me, this is a direct reference to her parents' story. Lakan wanted to be with Fengxian, but couldn't. Fengxian wanted to reach out to him, but couldn't. It all ended in ruin because of that damn feeling called love. Of course, this is also why Maomao just refuses to even consider that she can love (btw, I don't mean strictly one type of love, this is a very vast and complicated feeling with many facets, and I mean all of them here). So she simply claims that she doesn't, yet her actions tell a different story.

Now, I have never been in a similar situation, so I do not claim to know what a person like Maomao would truly think and feel of this. But I think that deep down she wonders what it would have been like to have been loved without being hurt. For her cries to have been met with warmth and not with silence. For her mother to have hugged her instead of having chased her away. And maybe Fengxian wanted the same, but knew that it was not possible. Maybe she was ashamed and disappointed in herself. What good would it be for that child to love her? The child, whose destiny might turn out not too different from her own. Indeed, in the end, no matter what anyone wanted, Fengxian could only become the woman who gave birth to Maomao. And Maomao could only learn to accept that.

[itsabouttimex2]

I've seen people say that Mei's samadhi fire arc was rushed, I never really thought about it that much, but I wanted to ask more LMK fans about their opinion on it. I can't stop pondering about it sometimes.

The Samadhi Fire Arc

Honestly, in my opinion? The Samadhi Fire plot is probably the least rushed arc in all of Monkie Kid.

Season Four to me is rushed because they try to squeeze in lore about the Pilgrims, MK’s heritage, Pigsy’s feelings on being an adoptive father, the Monkie Crew’s feeling on their ancestors/forebearers, the Brotherhood, the Ink Scroll, and then try to set up for Season Five while they’re at it.

Season Five to me is rushed because they try to squeeze in Xiangliu, Nüwa, and Li Jing and flesh all three out with very little time to spread between another fetch quest (this makes four in total through only five seasons) while also trying to give attention to Mei, Tang, Pigsy, Sandy, Red Son and MK while not even having a special to help take some burden off of the 100-minute crunch the writing team unfortunately has to deal with.

However…

Because the writers set up the Lady Bone Demon beforehand, she’s not given too much direct attention in this season until near the end, instead getting occasional appearances throughout by interacting with Macaque and then Wukong and to some degree infecting both with her power.

Which means that we get a full ten episodes plus a special for essentially only two things- the Samadhi Fire foremost, with the Lady Bone Demon in the background until about the special, from my recollection.

This means Mei does get her fair share of character development throughout Season Three, which you would think might allow us to see her perspective and thoughts on the world around her. We do get to see a little more of her desire to “live up” to her ancestors very early on, but it’s addressed quickly and then entirely dropped.

Like, this was a heavily Mei-centric season! We should’ve gotten some thoughts and backstory and personal views and whatnot, but the Samadhi Fire basically took full control over any narrative that could’ve allowed the story to delve deeper into, well, Mei.

But it feels kinda like Mei herself is… secondary to the power inside of her at times, where she’s very much just an unlucky and draconic vessel.

Now this wouldn’t have been such a big deal if we had gotten something beyond the already seen “Mei wants to live up to her family’s expectations without comprising her moral values and self-identity”, but, uh… they dealt with that in the first season and resolved it pretty neatly. Her conflict with Ao Guang is just retreading water in the same way, when it would’ve been nice to have a deviation of some kind.

On a more positive note, one of the best things the season gives us is learning how she’s come to view Sun Wukong in the form of a tearful rant about his actions and the impact they’ve had on her and her friends.

That only matters to her for a few minutes, unfortunately, but it’s a highlight of the season, and I wish it hadn’t been dropped so quickly.

Now, her not being allowed to interact with him or Macaque past the third season in regards to the ways they’ve continuously endangered and hurt her is a horrible letdown that severely undermines the character growth of all three, which is part of the reason I think some people call it rushed.

Mei’s possession of the Samadhi Fire is dropped until season five, so it feels ultimately unimportant. Red Son; in spite of being fundamental to Mei’s mastery of his power, gets shelved from season four the next time we see him. Sun Wukong’s recklessness and threadbare “planning” is essentially forgotten about, because the next two seasons just find new shit for people to scream at him about. All of Macaque’s… everything, really, goes entirely ignored by the characters, narrative, and story.

And obviously that’s not exactly satisfying from a watcher’s perspective, because it feels like everything just has a strangely neat bow tied onto it in spite of there being lots of messy business in the past that still needs to be addressed, but just isn’t because there’s they’ve decided to write another “the world is going to end plot” instead of taking a breath and working through existing issues instead of circumventing older ones as irrelevant.

I think people are disappointed when they look backwards that these plot points or emotional beats were dropped and left unaddressed or only resolved with a heavy dose of “secretly all alongs”. For example…

Red Son somehow tracks Mei down without any real explanation. (No biggie, probably some kind of tech or magic. Him getting there isn’t as important as what he’s doing, so it can be ignored.) He decides to train her. For some reason he's good at teaching people to control themselves, even though he was barely able to control himself in seasons prior? Off-screen character development is never exactly satisfying, at least to me.

Throughout all of this interaction, he never once expresses the slightest of desire to reclaim or recreate the Fire for himself, and is content with Mei having it. Red even openly declares that the power is “hers” at the climax of the story.

(I could get into how fans treat Red Son + Samadhi Fire ((plus pandering from the writers)) in comparison to Mei, but that’s a rant for some other time…)

With his encouragement, Mei harnesses the Samadhi Fire and helps defeat LBD! This has a lot of longstanding implications for her place in the story and her role as a parallel force to MK! How exciting!

Sike! The Samadhi Fire is fucking gone, only one mention of it in the season, where an omniscient old man inside a hell scroll tells us that it’s gone.

Sike! Mei secretly all along still has the Samadhi Fire and also secretly all along has an insecurity complex over thinking she lost it but all of this is handled in about a minute.

Red Son secretly all along wanted to learn where the Samadhi Fire came from and is trying to recreate it...? When he's seen and felt how dangerous and uncontrollable it is and home of this was established before??

So, when you build up all these things for a full season and then drop most of them the fourth and wait until the fifth to resolve them, I think it left a very jarring impact on viewers who came to view the season as “rushed”… but only in hindsight.

It’s not a flaw I would attribute until I’m on the fifth season and thinking “this should’ve been addressed in an earlier season.”

Now, personally, there are some plot points I’m not really a fan of, like, again, the “macguffin fetch quest” nature of the Samadhi Fire rings. Normally I wouldn’t mind but again, this is Monkie Kid’s third macguffin hunt in total, and we get a fourth in Season Five. (Spider Venom Cure ingredients, LBD’s Mech Building, Samadhi Fire Rings, Power Stones)

Though I think the City of Lanterns is a cute bit of worldbuilding, like with most Monkie Kid worldbuilding it’s basically “Look at this cool thing! Enjoy it now, because we’re never coming back or addressing it again!” like they did with the Team Hideout, the Cloud and the Weather Station. “Look at this cool place! Okay we’re done showcasing a potential Lego set, change the backdrop!”

Or another is Sun Wukong just being… magically immune to it once he gets possessed?

Like, the whole reason he had to set out on this fetch quest was because the Lady Bone Demon was distinctly NOT immune to it? And he also was NOT immune to it? Because the Samadhi Fire is a wildly dangerous all-consuming fire that could destroy all of existence, but apparently all it takes to be totally unaffected by it is powerful person + possession by another powerful person? But again I guess the world-building and power systems of Monkie Kid have always been patchy and thin but it’s still frustrating AUGHHH

But I personally don’t think it’s “rushed” until it’s revealed later on that actually, “There’s more to the story!” when a lot of the story we have is just kinda… left hanging.

TLDR for anyone who skipped down here: It’s only rushed in hindsight. If someone theoretically stopped watching after Season Three I don’t think it would be called “rushed”.

[strayed-quokka]

lacking in subtlety || kim sunwoo

» summary: it was a bad idea to like your brother’s best friend. it was an even worse idea to let him into your room when your brother was one door down.   

» pairing: sunwoo x female reader

» rating: NC-17 minors do not interact 

» genre: brother’s best friend, smut, porn without much plot but there’s backstory i guess

» warnings: dominant sunwoo (kinda?), he’s also a bit possessive, i guess submissive reader, oral (m and f receiving), creampie, his hand finds your throat but there’s no actual pressure, vague exhibitionism (?), sunwoo gets caught but he kinda asked for it, the beginning takes ages whoops, open ending cause i’m annoying, one use of good girl and some pet names

» words: 4,738

» a/n: i know i’ve done brother’s best friend before but i’m a hoe for that concept aight deal w it… also i have like… 20+ smuts for the boyz in my drafts i don’t know what’s going on anymore but i’m thinking either juyeon next because hands or a threesome with moonbae because it’s been sitting in my drafts and lord is it wild 

also i know i disappeared but life happens and also people were stealing my work so i wasn’t really in the mood to write anything for anyone but here we are i’m back cause i wanna indulge ✌️

You’d never been much of a risk taker. In fact, on paper, you probably looked quite boring, good grades, a nice set of friends, never misbehaving, all of it lined up to make you rather uninteresting. That’s why when the shift from seeing Juyeon’s best friend Sunwoo, as someone more than a simple acquaintance happened, you simply ignored it. 

He’d never find you interesting enough. 

Though you were friends in a way too. Your brother was comfortable enough with Sunwoo never getting too close to you in that regard, and so the two of you would often interact even if he wasn’t there.

But the conversations were usually rather generic. Exchanges of how your days were, maybe the occasional comment about an outfit the other wore, but never anything beyond that. You still remembered coming downstairs in an oversized hoodie one day and Sunwoo jumping on the question to ask where you got it. He wore the same one in a different colour a few days later, and you swore he knew how flustered it made you.

You knew him, but you didn’t know him in a way that you knew friends. Nevertheless, you were always comfortable with him, even comfortable enough that during movie nights, if you happened to be around, lying next to him or even against him was deemed completely normal. 

You’d done it since you were little, and so even once it shifted from being simply platonic to something that made your heart race as you got older, Juyeon never once questioned it. He never felt the need to and neither did Sunwoo. You weren’t sure if he was simply oblivious or intentionally ignoring the way you felt, but you were relieved either way.

Juyeon never noticed that your first semester back from university, Sunwoo started to get more physical towards you. His arm being wrapped around you wasn’t new, but where he let his hand rest was. You still remembered the first time it fell on your hips, but it stayed unmoving and almost felt like an unintentional accident. 

Though with Sunwoo, nothing was unintentional. He thought you were beautiful and incredibly hard to resist, but he tried. He tried by simply leaving little hints, hints that could mean nothing or everything at the same time, and hints that Juyeon wouldn’t notice or brush off because Sunwoo wouldn’t cross that line. He’d never be so stupid. 

Sunwoo didn’t want to cross the line, but there was only so much self control he had. Especially when you never, not once, rejected anything that he did. 

You’d just finished your first year at university, enjoying the start of your summer break, when things shifted again. Trying to get used to Sunwoo drawing patterns on your hip or nuzzling up to you could never have prepared you.

The weather was terrible, a summer storm looming outside with the sound of rain crashing against the window as a random horror movie played that you lost interest in within the first twenty minutes, and you could tell Sunwoo didn’t care for it much either. Horror movies were Changmin’s thing, and maybe you should’ve been nice and invited your best friend along for the evening. 

You were leaning against Sunwoo, his arm around you and fingers resting on your hip with a blanket draped over your bare legs and a part of your waist.

Juyeon was on the opposite side, a bowl of near empty popcorn on his lap with a blanket around his own figure. 

Sunwoo shifted, the blanket slipping off your body though he caught it and covered you again, and you would’ve likely barely reacted if it weren’t for his fingers moving over your bare thigh. Your breath caught in your throat, and you tried to hide it with a cough though Sunwoo knew better. 

Though just because he knew better, didn’t mean he was about to risk it entirely. 

He’s slow, as if trying to calculate all the risks in the scenario he’s in, including both your potential rejection and Juyeon seeing what he’s up to, so it’s incredibly delicate as his fingers move under the thin blanket and to the hem of your oversized shirt, pushing it up above your hips. 

Your eyes widen, looking down though the skin he’s exposed lies very much hidden over the thin fabric that’s keeping you warm. You feel like you’re burning and can’t breathe, trying to regulate it without raising any suspicion. 

Sunwoo doesn’t feel your rejection, though he takes the time to whisper as quietly as he possibly can, “say stop and I will.”

You look over to Juyeon, but he hasn’t heard. It’s both a relief and a thrill, and you only nod to Sunwoo, tilting your head slightly upwards and to the side, eyes rested on his plump lips that had just hovered by your ear.

His fingers twist around the thin lace laying over your hip bone before he runs his hand down your thigh. He’s meticulous and painfully slow, but the result is that if you didn’t know any better, even you wouldn’t suspect much of anything. And the thrill of it all leaves you embarrassingly wet. 

You’re impatient too, and maybe it’s a mistake, but you push his hand just enough to rest in between your thighs. Sunwoo isn’t stupid either, he knows exactly what you want and exactly what you’re craving, and he’s more than willing to give it to you now that you’ve cleared up any potential misunderstanding of your motives. 

That’s the problem. Sunwoo has always been more than willing to do anything you ask, even when he shouldn’t. Whilst Juyeon had never explicitly stated that you were off limits, he knew that you were. He could have anyone he wanted. Anyone but you. 

And you’re exactly what he wanted. 

He’s teasing you, mostly because he doesn’t have a choice if he wants to remain discreet, but also because he likes it. He likes seeing you react, how you bite your lip and try to push your legs apart just enough for him to have his fingers between without the movement being too obvious. Sunwoo pushes into you as a response, and you can feel his cock against your ass. 

This was bad. You were both stuck here, and you were feeling incredibly hot and desperately trying to be quiet. 

“Are you okay?” he says it loudly, and you can’t believe the nerve he has to ask you right in front of Juyeon. Your brother looks over at you, concern on his face as Sunwoo’s fingers stop right back on your hip. 

“What’s wrong?” there’s genuine concern there, and now you wonder what you look like. 

“She feels warm. Fever?” 

You want to hit him, but the only way you retaliate is to shift around with the way you’re lying, purposely pushing against him. You hear the angry hiss leave his throat, but it’s so quiet, similar to a low growl, so you don’t think Juyeon hears it, or if he does, he assumes it’s because your shuffling around must’ve kicked his friend. 

“Do you wanna sleep? We can watch this another time,” you nod at your brother, for as much as you very much enjoy the lines you’re crossing, the gamble doesn’t seem worth it with him right here. That, and in some way, you respect your brother just a little too much. 

“I’m gonna have a cold shower,” you twist your body up, ensuring the blanket is still on Sunwoo as he lets you go and repositions on his side, “night Juyeon. Sunwoo.”

You hug your brother goodnight, retaliating by hitting Sunwoo’s ass over the blanket, making him yelp and glare your way as you disappear into the bathroom. 

Fucking hell, did that just happen?

You can’t believe it. The immediate guilt sinks in for what you’ve done. It’s obvious to you, just how deep your crush and sexual attraction for Sunwoo has gotten, but a part of you wishes you could still suppress it. 

The water is ice cold when it hits your skin and you let out a squeal, eventually rinsing yourself off and washing your hair, attempting to snap out of the constant daze and addiction that is Kim Sunwoo. But the more you let him be in your mind, the more he refused to leave, and the worse your thoughts got. 

Maybe you just needed to get laid. It had been a while since your ex (who you conveniently enough, don’t think Sunwoo liked), and now you were in a state of such frustration that you were taking it out onto the only man available in the house. 

Though desire was a funny thing. 

It just wouldn’t go away. 

You lay awake for hours, staring up at your ceiling with only one person on your mind. There’s no doubt you’re losing it, unable to sleep for every time you close your eyes, it’s the same thought and wish for a dream over and over again. 

You resort to the only form of advice you can run to. Changmin.

“It’s two in the fucking morning, please,” he groans, his voice rough and tired, and it really doesn’t help your sexual overdriven hormones. It’s not like you were attracted to your best friend, but his rough voice combined with everything else sent you into a near meltdown. Maybe you should just ask him to sleep with you. 

“I want to fuck Sunwoo,” it’s quiet. You’re not sure if Changmin has to think about what you said first before he reacts, or if he just has no idea how to react, but eventually you hear him shuffle around and speak. 

“I ehrm… I’m not sure what you want me to say to that,” he pauses again, clearing his throat, “does Juyeon know?”

“What the hell do you think?” 

“Yikes, you really do need to get laid,” you nearly scream before remembering that any loud noise is going to garner unwanted attention from the two men that are either just downstairs or down the hall from you, so you suppress your agony instead, “why Sunwoo, though?”

“Have you not seen him?”

“I mean… not recently,” you sigh, rolling onto your side to look out the window. The rain seems endless, so you can’t exactly expect Changmin to get up and walk here to keep you company. 

“You’re staying up with me.”

“I’m tired,” he groans, enough for you to briefly feel bad. Though one of your biggest flaws is your stubbornness and your best friend knows that. 

“If I have someone else give you company, will you let me sleep?”

“Who’s crazy enough to come out at-”

There’s an abrupt cut on the other line, and you realise Changmin’s hung up. He either had a death wish or a plan, maybe both, and honestly, neither were comforting to think about.

A knock on the door breaks you out of it, half expecting your brother or maybe both of the boys to walk in, but it’s only Sunwoo. Immediately, you feel the need to wrap your blanket over your bare legs, “come in?”

He finally steps inside, leaving the door slightly ajar as he approaches you. He’s still in the same sweatpants and shirt from earlier, his hair more ruffled and messy from the constant laying down. He looks so inviting, his lips so full and his eyes so entrancing. It’s pure torture. 

“Changmin messaged me,” you pale, and now you’ve decided that he really does have a death wish, “want to explain?” 

He holds his phone out to you, a message from a number you can recite by heart sent just a minute ago. 

Y/N wants to sleep with you. Double meaning implied. Leave me out of it.

“What the fuck Chan-,”

“Is it true? Double meaning implied?” he smirks, and you realise quickly that to him it’s become a bit of a game to see how far he can push and taunt you until you either decide it’s enough or give in. You’re not sure why Sunwoo suddenly got so confident, though you suppose he always has been, the only difference now is that he knows how you’re thinking.  

“You don’t have to cover up. It’s quite warm,” his voice is low, but you doubt it’s out of worry for Juyeon hearing him. He’s right as well. It may be raining outside, but it’s incredibly hot in here, and you let him when he asks to remove the fabric over your bare legs, taking a seat at the edge of your bed. 

“Are you… still watching that movie?” 

“Finished it. And two others. Juyeon went to bed, it’s literally been hours,” you nod, wondering if he really is two doors down from you, fast asleep. Maybe he’s scrolling through his phone or doing god knows what else. 

“And you?”

“Well…” he starts, his fingers moving up along your left leg and causing shivers to run along your skin, “see, I have a bit of a problem.”

You may regret asking, but curiosity gets the better of you and you feel like you’re damned to hell. That, and the fact that maybe you really don’t care at all anymore, about any of the risks, “which is what?”

He grins, and it’s a smile that tells you he has something on his mind that thrills him and intoxicates you. Sunwoo comes closer, resting the palm of one hand on your inner thigh to push your legs apart, his lips right by your ear, “I really need to know how sweet you taste.”

Your resolve breaks. Maybe it was broken before, but it’s definitely shattered now. A whimper falls past your lips and now he’s right above you, watching with eyes like you’re his prey. 

“Am I allowed, sweetheart?” 

It happens fast, the way you grip his shirt and pull him down until your lips meet. His lips are slightly salted, likely from the popcorn, and he’s quickly pushing his tongue between your lips and gripping you harder by your thigh. He’s rough, a little forceful with it, but you like the dominance he holds over you. 

“Fuck, you have no idea how hard it’s been to resist you,” he leaves open mouthed kisses down your neck, one of his hands slipping under your shirt to grope your breasts, playing with the sensitive flesh and hardened nipples, twisting slightly as you mewl underneath him. 

He’s overwhelming you. Sunwoo always has a way for your senses to go into overdrive, but with what he’s doing now, you can’t think.

“P-please,” you sound pathetic, but he’s nice enough to listen. At least you thought he was. 

“Let’s play a game,” oh no. He’s pulling you up, until you sit with your legs over the bed, planted firmly on the floor as your eyes find the still open door. 

You’d forgotten it was open. Sunwoo, however, clearly hadn’t, “what game?”

He’s down on his knees before you, his shirt discarded before you can even blink, and it takes a while to adjust to the naked chest and muscular build he’s always hidden from you. You tremble just at the thought, watching him closely as he repositions your legs onto his shoulder, pulling himself closer to you, “see how quiet you can be with that door open, sweetheart.”

You should be scared. The risk of getting caught has exponentially grown with the factor of an open door, but you feel his teeth lightly dig into the flesh by your upper thigh and you seem to forget everything else. It’s like he’s telling you to pay attention to only him, with each sharp sting of his teeth that leaves your skin red. 

Something about it you love. The dominance maybe, or maybe the possessive nature in which he litters your skin in angry red marks that you want to have, “look at me.”

It’s demanding, but you barely hear it first until his fingers dig into your thighs, pushing your legs just slightly more apart, and you sit up just a little to meet his eyes. He almost looks dangerous, near possessed in his hunger for you, and suddenly you’ve never felt more attractive in your life. 

He makes you feel wanted, and maybe that’s enough to explain why you’ve always been pushed towards him like a magnet. Even if you knew him at a surface level, he’s always been attentive to you in the little things. 

You nearly curse the world the minute Sunwoo delicately lays a kiss over your clothed clit, and it’s frustrating how that alone damn near makes you see stars. Such a simple touch of his lips should not feel like the end for you, and yet it does. You grip his hair before you can help yourself, pushing him between your legs as he chuckles, “are you that desperate?” 

“Shut up,” his nails dig into you harder, a scowl on his face as he nearly drags you down further, and you nearly yelp when your underwear is pushed to the side and his full lips meet your bare folds. 

“F-fuck,” he doesn’t respond to you. Either he’s off in his own world or he’s intentionally ignoring you as punishment for the way you run your mouth, but you’re in heaven, though it feels like the greatest sin that’ll have you sent straight to hell. 

You’d never have said you were a very vocal person in the bedroom. Even if someone made you feel good, your moans were usually quiet, more breathy and whispered than they were loud, but Sunwoo made you want to scream, and knowing you couldn’t made it so much worse.

Sunwoo seemed to know what he wanted, because without much warning, he’s letting his index finger graze your folds and it’s near embarrassing just how much of your juices coat his finger when he does, bringing it up to your lips, “are you gonna be good?”

You nod, desperate as you take his finger in your mouth, sucking on it like you would his cock, the taste slightly sweet while he’s back between your legs. You feel like your senses are going into overdrive, moaning as you take one of your hands and grip his hair, pushing his tongue deeper between your folds, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

“S-Sunwoo, p-please,” you want to cum, and it feels like you’re so close, but it’s like he wants to remind you just how insufferable he is as he pushes back the second you feel like you may tip over the edge. 

The whine that releases in your throat is loud and pathetic, and you both share a wide look of shock and worry because what if Juyeon heard it. 

A minute passes, the only noise in the room being both of your heavy breathing, and when Sunwoo decides that Juyeon likely hasn’t woken up, his attention is back on you, “take off your shirt.”

You nearly don’t hear him, too busy staring at his swollen lips that glisten just slightly under the moonlight bleeding into the room, and he looks so beautiful that you feel like you’re falling for him right in that very moment, completely. 

“You need to stop staring like that. It’s not good for my heart,” his words make your head spin just as they put you into action, stripping off the very little you have on until you’re entirely naked. 

Sunwoo just stares first, and you wonder if maybe you should cover yourself but the minute you reach for the blanket, he’s stopping you, “don’t you dare.”

It’s rough, a demand that you listen to, especially when his fingers grip your chin to look up at him, “you look far beyond what I ever dreamed of.”

“You dreamed about me?” 

He grins, leaning down to kiss you as you let yourself go, back hitting the mattress as he hovers over you, “all the time.”

“Tell me,” you wanna hear it. Want to hear what you do to him, when this entire time you just thought that Sunwoo was the one making you crazy. 

“How good you must look with my cock inside you. You’d probably take it so well,” you’re nodding, whimpering slightly as he’s bruising your neck, and your hands are playing with the waistband of his sweatpants, asking without a word for him to take them off. 

It’s a relief to you that he listens, until you’re both entirely naked though you’re the one left salivating at his hardened cock. A little above average but thick, making you feel like you’re going dumb staring at him, “you wanna open that pretty mouth for me?”

You feel him grip your thigh and push you to the edge of the bed again, your face eye level with his waist, and it’s almost instinctual for you to part your lips, the tip of his cock laid flat on your tongue until you take him deeper. 

It becomes clear to you that you underestimated his girth, your jaw quickly sore but you don’t want to accept it either, relaxing your muscles as you swirl your tongue underneath the base of his shaft, moaning around his cock, eyes finding his to see that he’s already staring at you with such darkened lust that you feel like he desires only you, and it makes your head spin. 

“Just a little more, good girl,” his praise goes right to your core, making you shake and he notices, fingers tugging at your hair as you take him just a little more, your mouth so full that you have to release him and gasp for air, but Sunwoo doesn’t mind for a second that you need to pull away. 

Especially not when his patience is running thin with what he really wants. 

You watch him step away from you, making you nearly cry out and complain but he moves to sit up with his back against the headboard, tapping his thigh as if inviting you onto his lap, and you don’t need to be told twice to obey his wishes. He grabs your waist when you’re close enough, and in a way it’s gentle as he guides you, straddling him and making his cock ache against your bare cunt, your juices coating him as he tries to steady his breathing. 

“F-fuck, you sure you want this?”

He looks pained, like he would shatter if he had to stop now, but you also see in his eyes that he’s genuine. That he’s giving you one last out if you want to take it. Fortunately for you both, you don’t want to.

“Yes, p-please Sunwoo?” 

It’s the desperation in your voice that releases something primal in him, the last bit of reserve leaving him as he lifts your thighs with a harsh grip that makes you see stars, aligning his cock against your entrance. He’s careful and slow, which at first you want to cry about, but you quickly realise that he has to be slow or he may hurt you, your body having to adjust to how tight it’s gripping him. 

“G-god, have you never been fucked before?” 

“Not like t-this,” your mouth hangs open, eyes shut as he feels his possession of you grow, and it does things to him knowing that it’s only him that’s got you squeezing around his cock like it’s your first time. 

“There you go,” the praise makes you whimper again, clenching around him and Sunwoo nearly sees stars when he realises how much you like to be praised and told you’re good for him. 

He feels like you’re cursing him straight to hell with the thoughts you’re giving him, something primal in him awakening, leaving him barely able to wait for you to let him move. 

“P-please, m-more,” the open door has been forgotten the second Sunwoo lifts you off his cock before slamming into you, making you nearly scream in pleasure though he muffles it with his hand, alarmed though not near enough to have him stop. He doesn’t think he can, not with the way you feel around him, meeting the thrusts of his hips halfway as you bounce on his cock. 

“S-Sunwoo, m-more,” he groans, eyes falling between the way he disappears inside you and your lips, and he knows he can never return to seeing you the way he did before, not now that he knows he’s gotten his hands on you. 

“I want you to belong to me,” it should maybe be alarming, to hear him lay claim on you like this, but to you it’s the sexiest thing anyone’s said to you, and honestly, you know you already do. 

“F-fuck, yes,” your movements quicken, his hand finding the base of your neck, just to grip onto you but not adding any pressure, but the action is enough to urge you on, like you want to do more for him and he hisses at the way your wrapped around him so tight and willing. 

“Good, y-you do so good,” Sunwoo feels like he’s burning, gripping both your hips when he feels you lose control at his praise, keeping you in place with a vice hold that might even bruise, and you know you’re going not going to last. Not when you see the way his eyes are glazed over and never leaving you, his hair clinging to his forehead and his muscular chest moving rapidly as he breathes.

“Sunwoo, I-”

“I k-know baby,” his voice is smooth, but his pace is feverish and rough, and his neck presents itself to you just as the scale tips and you’re releasing your orgasm, biting into the skin of his shoulder to hide your pleasured screams of his name, the cries and the pathetic way he makes you whimper and see stars. 

The pressure and pain from your teeth and knowing why you bit him just as you grip his cock harder inside your walls has him spilling his cum into you before he can properly warn you, but you don’t seem to mind at all as his lips fall to your shoulder, muffling his own breathing as you both come down from your high. 

His hands find your back, nails grazing the skin gently before he’s just holding you in his arms, wincing slightly from the way you’re stimulating his cock even now, but when he tries to pull away from you, you grip onto him tighter. 

“P-please,” he nearly wants to cry, head falling back against the headboard as he looks up, trying to collect himself and maybe even think about what he’s just done. But all that runs through his mind is how you’re keeping him in place, gripping him, whimpering and willing and his, and he’s forgetting every possible consequence to his insane actions. 

“I’m a dead man,” you laugh, properly for the first time in a while and it makes him smile, and as much as he wants to keep you over him, to fill you up, he’s also a little more than relieved when you fall next to him because he’s not sure he could’ve handled the overstimulation any longer without being the one to beg. 

“So is Changmin,” even if your best friend will likely ask you questions, and likely throw it in your face that he did you a favor, you still very much want to kill him. Sunwoo chuckles, brushing his fingers against your shoulder gently, and the way his eyes are watching you so softly now makes your head spin.

“Kim Sunwoo, put your fucking clothes on or I will drag your naked ass out anyway, you’re dead,” both of you tense, simultaneously looking to the ajar door, though you can’t actually see Juyeon, you just very much know he’s there. You guess it could be considered kind of him to not just barge in, but it almost makes you more embarassed because if he’s not walking in, he knows exactly why he shouldn’t and there’s no way out for either of you.

You expect Sunwoo to be more ashamed or worried, but he sends you a cheeky grin and kisses your forehead before stumbling over to his discarded grey sweats. 

“Well, guess I have to go princess,” and while you’re left blushing, incredibly embarrassed, his bashfulness makes you smile, even when you know that Sunwoo is very much screwed. 

“Y/N, you too. Now.”

And so are you. 

waiting to be chased for the open ending but it just wasn’t important to the story to add what happens there so... 

anyway thank you to everyone for reading, commenting and liking my work even while i was gone :) there will be more cause like i said... moonbae threesome and juyeon hands whoops

on a rather serious note though, please do not plagiarise my damn work. i spend hours on it and while i was grateful to be tagged and made aware of what was happening to me and other writers, it really makes it hard to even have motivation to write and dedicate that time if someone just takes it. i understand similarities in ideas because that happens (like please, as if i’m the first to do brothers best friend), but to copy paste is just beyond disrespectful and i’m tired of it. 

tbz masterlist

[runabout-river]

Thoughts on JJK chapter 268 (spoilers)

So many thoughts. So many...

Sukuna and Megumi finally come face to face and talk with each other but as far as emotional connections and resolutions between them are concerned there isn't much and I will have to say that in that point Gege fumbled the story telling.

He should've put the spotlight on Sukuna and Megumi at multiple points in the story after the possession but he chose to put Megumi to the side which makes his appearance here at this moment less impactfull

But more on that later...

What's really interesting about Sukuna in these first two pages, is him appearing calm and collected in his first panel but then his game is up and we see that through Megumi talking to him

It's really good imagery. Sukuna the shapeless monster that devours everything but then gets reduced to nothing inside the domain between him and Megumi.

I'm certain that Megumi's new will to live actively pushed Sukuna into that state where Yuji was able to punch those two apart.

Again for emphasis:

Megumi pushing Sukuna away is visualized by his words shrinking Sukuna's black soul. If Megumi had completely lost his will to live instead of wanting to fight on for Yuji, Sukuna would've most likely eaten and sank Megumi's soul completely into darkness at that point, leaving Yuji's last soul punch without effect.

Without Megumi fighting back, Yuji wouldn't have been able to separate Sukuna from Megumi's body.

The double page spread was breathtaking and invoked the horror part of this story again.

Sukuna's... remaining form lying on the ground, first looking forward to Megumi and then looking up at Yuji... So striking

Yuji then still talking to Sukuna because he wants to save him after he realized that they had similar beginnings but Sukuna didn't have a grandpa to help turns this moment quite sad

Sukuna backstory when??

And finally Sukuna calls Yuji by his full name while he rejects his offer again, fading into nothing. But he says that he should'n't be underestimated because he's a curse and I made an entire post once about Sukuna ascending into one.

Right now though we have a huge question that needs to be answered: from what did Sukuna die right now? Because when the answer isn't from a CE attack, then he will return as a proper curse.

Uraume meanwhile dies in panels that are strategically placed to not completely answer the question of her (their) gender.

Megumi wakes up and he's scarred. Those scars are not from the battles though. The ones over his right side are from Sukuna's mask and the one under his left eye is from his second eye. Symbolism.

Those are physical representations of the torture he went through under Sukuna's presence and the mark he left on him. Only the torture that was shown... has less impact than I had hoped. Gojo's attack on Megumi e.g. left him suffering UV effect for 1700 years and that's not a factor in any of this apparently.

Megumi has the physical scars but the story behind it is lacking because we didn't see Sukuna and Megumi interacting.

Megumi and Yuji just go back to how things were and that leaves the emotional impact hanging again. Yes, we can explain their psyches on that but in storytelling some things are just more impactfull than others.

Nobara and Yuji wanting to prank Megumi was peak and the last letters from Gojo were also funny but again the emotions surrounding that were a little funky imo

Look at the three they're all scarred now.

Something else I would probably criticize Gege's story structure for is that Nobara's scars have barely any relation to Mahito and that Megumi's scars have no impact from his underdeveloped relationship with Sukuna.

Yuji carries the emotional and structural beats of the manga and that's okay, he's the protagonist after all but that makes the scars on the others look more like paint... Again, in my opinion.

The last panels are about Yuta and whatever he has going on with Gojo's body. We'll see in the last three chapters...

And that brings me to a point I can't stop thinking about.

Is this the actual end of JJK, or is there a Part 2?

Because there are so many different plot points left, things that could easily make an entire 200 chapter story arc. And then comes Gege and adds another new plot in the point of Nobara's mother to the mix.

We have not seen Megumi's completed domain expansion.

There are things missing in the story that deserve their own post and some complaints I have might actually be dismissed when the manga in a new Part continues. And with every new chapter that gets released until we come to the end that gets more and more likely...