#but I thought there were other female characters

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

Cupid doesn’t gamble

Summary: Leon, a mafia boss whose empire dominates all casinos on the west coast, meets a young girl amidst a game of poker. What would happen if he threw all his chips and gambled his love for you?

Warning: Mafia!Boss!Leon x Female!Reader. Eventual smut (I know y’all want this so bad). Slow burn. Romantic. Leon is a gentleman. Characters are 21+ (makes sense for casinos). Researched topics. Mentions of violence. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 6,620

A/N: So, I’d like to start off with saying that being in the Mafia is not okay. Al Capone was NOT a good guy. But, this is fiction. None of this is real so before I get myself canceled (pls don’t) trust that I did my research. I thought of Salvatore by LDR writing this lol.

[II] [III]

“The summer's wild and I've been waiting for you all this time I adore you, can't you see, you're meant for me. Summer's hot but I've been cold without you, I was so wrong not to doubt your Medellin, tangerine dreams,” - Salvatore, Lana Del Rey

Poker isn’t just a game of gambling and betting your money away. It’s intimate and personal, in order to win you must read your opponent. Strip each other bare until the other shows a sign of vulnerability, only then will you find a loophole and win.

But nobody seems to understand the arts of chips and card decks. To be given an awful hand and turning the game to your favor is powerful and uplifting. There is great danger with gambling but there are also great rewards.

Leon was a famous man, known for establishing the most successful casinos of, dare I say, the nation. He’s a businessman, driven by the need to make a statement of himself. To hold power over people’s head with a flick of the wrist. He’s ambitious, cunning, but also respectful.

Coming from nothing but rags and the slum, he swore to his parents that he will earn everything he ever wanted in life. To provide for his family, to become one of the richest and notorious men of America. And he did.

He easily became a member of the mafia after being taken under the care of a kind man. When his parents died and he was shunned away by society, he never expected a man from a dangerous world to take him as a child and teach him to become the man that he is today.

And now here he was, engaging himself in a long hour of poker with a rookie player. You’ve never been keen on gambling your savings away, you deterred yourself from gaining the addiction. But, you did like to play every once in a while, especially since the casino you were in was quite lavish, courtesy of the man who built the casino in the first place.

You didn’t know anything about it, you didn’t even know that the man in front of you was the very own man who built his life step by step.

"You're good with your hands," he said in a rich and low tone as he stared at you from across the table.

“Thanks,” you muttered as you moved on forward with the game. You glanced at him, narrowing your eyes as you tried to guess what he was going to move with tonight.

A low, amused chuckle escaped his lips as he continued to watch you analyze him. He knew damn well you had no clue how to play, yet you were trying your best. It's what drew him to you.

He noticed you stealing glances his way as you thought of a plan. *Adorable.* He leaned back into his seat, eyeing you closely as he waited for you to make your next move.

"You're a bad bluffer," he pointed out with a smirk.

“And you’re a talker,” you quipped back with sass. You were silent for a moment before you decided to either go big or go home, “Raise,” you said to him.

Your eyes were glued to him, watching for his reaction. Was he going to fold or call? Either way, you believed you had a better hand than him.

"And you're cocky, too," he returned with a hint of humor in his voice. He raised an eyebrow slightly, surprised by your bold move. Even if you didn't know how to play, you had some guts.

He studies you for a moment, his eyes lingering on you before returning to his cards. After a moment of contemplating, he pushes a stack of chips forward, adding to the pot.

"Call. Let's see what you've got," he challenges you with a sly smile.

You turned your cards over, revealing a Diamond Queen and Clover King. You put them down and crossed your arms over your chest as you looked at him with a smirk.

The bet was a high number of money. Probably worth more than your limbs being sold in the black market. But you were here for a reason, to earn some quick money. The man in front of you looked quite wealthy, wealthy and rich men weren’t uncommon in this place but it still made you feel a bit inferior with everyone wanting to show off.

Leon leaned forward, inspecting your cards closely. The smirk on your face said it all. You thought you had a good hand, and he wouldn't deny that you had a decent one. But, it wasn't enough to beat him. He leaned back into his seat once more, his expression unchanging, as he revealed his own cards. A Spade Queen and a Diamond Ace. A straight flush. His eyes met yours, his smirk turning into a cocky grin.

"I'm afraid you've lost this round, darling," he said in a teasing tone.

Your smirk immediately fell as you saw his straight flush. Wow, you lost again. You didn’t even notice him calling you by a pet name. Did you owe this man money now? How did you not see it coming? That bastard was cocky and confident as hell! You should’ve known he had a good hand.

Leon chuckled once again. The look on your face was priceless—a mix of frustration and disbelief.

He loved it.

"Looks like I win again," he said teasingly, gathering up the chips on the table, "And don't worry, darling, you don't owe me anything. Just better luck next time."

He leaned back in his seat, his gaze still fixed on you as he smirked. He found your reaction absolutely adorable.

You furrowed your brows confused, you didn’t owe him anything? “Wait, are you serious?” You asked confusedly. He was different from other guys around here. Was he really willing to forget about your loss and even wished you better luck?

Who was this guy? There was something about him, though, that seemed dangerous and suspicious, “Why?”

Leon tilted his head to the side as he observed you, noticing the confusion on your face. You were clearly surprised by his words. It seems like you’re *not* used to men like him.

He chuckled softly at your question. "Why? Because I'm a gentleman," he responds with a smirk.

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze never leaving your face, "And I'm not in the business of taking money from pretty young girls like yourself. I'm not that heartless."

Your cheeks flared, did he just say you were pretty? You’ve never met a man so… straightforward. You cleared your throat and nibbled on your bottom lip, “Thank you,” you muttered quietly. Leon's gaze softened as he watched your cheeks flush and saw you bite your bottom lip. *Adorable.*

He’s a gentleman, he’s not *that* heartless? You didn’t understand him. He wore expensive clothes and his aura was confident.

“Is there anything else you’d like in return?” You asked as you looked at him, your arms on the table, “I’d feel guilty if you went back home empty handed.”

He leaned back in his seat, a smirk on his lips. "There is... one thing," he replied, his voice low and smooth.

He paused for a moment, his eyes locking with yours once more. "Your name," he said simply, his smile widening, "I'd like to know your name."

You stared at him for a few moments before you nodded slightly, “Okay,” you muttered. You extended your hand towards him, “My name is Y/n,” you said softly. He was truly a gentleman, wasn’t he? He doesn’t take money from girls and he was respectful. He’s one of a kind.

Leon looked at your hand for a moment before taking it gently in his own. His rough, calloused fingers wrapped around your small, soft hand. He loved the contrast between your skin and his. The way your slender fingers fit perfectly in his grasp.

"Y/n," he repeated quietly, as if he was testing the way the name felt on his tongue. He let out a soft chuckle before bringing your hand to his lips. He placed a gentle kiss on your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your cheeks flushed even more red when he kissed your knuckles. Did he come out of a book or something?! You’ve never met a man that screamed rich and respectful man. It was attractive. You were a bit speechless. Most guys met wouldn’t even be bothered to know your name and yet, here he was, treating you like a lady. Did he time travel or something?

You didn’t even try to move your hand away, it was like you got stuck in a trance. He was an enigma, who knew your poker opponent was so… you didn’t even know how to describe it. He chuckled softly at your reaction. He wasn't surprised, after all, most men don't have manners these days. Not men like him.

He slowly released your hand, though he couldn't bring himself to completely let go just yet. He continued to hold onto it, his thumb gently caressing your knuckles.

“Can I know your name too?” You asked a bit hesitantly, you wanted to know but you didn’t want to seem disrespectful. He felt so fancy, like a true gentleman. The kind of man you read in romance books where you could only dream of being treated with such care.

"Of course, darling," he replied in a low tone, his gaze still fixated on your face. He could tell that you were completely taken by him, though he couldn't blame you, most girls were. He could tell that you were captivated by his mannerisms and demeanor. It seemed like you appreciated his old-fashioned actions and chivalry, not that he was surprised. But something told him that you were different than the others. You weren't just after his wealth or status, he could see it in your eyes.

In the game of poker, it was easy to fall and lose. But for some reason, you like playing with him even if it means losing most of the rounds.

You didn’t even notice the two bodyguards approaching him from behind since you didn’t know what his occupation was like. You were strangers. The two bodyguards were ready to jump into action if you tried anything suspicious. But what could you do? You were completely harmless.

As his bodyguards approached from behind, Leon glanced over his shoulder at them. He held up a hand, silently signaling for them to hold off. The bodyguards stood a few feet away, far enough to not listen to your conversation but close enough to jump to him if he got into a dangerous situation. Leon's lips curled into an amused smile as he watched you realize the presence of his bodyguards. They were there to protect him, after all.

"My name is Leon," he finally replied, his voice just above a whisper. "Leon Kennedy."

“Leon,” you repeated, tasting the way it rolled off your tongue. It was a fancy name, suiting him very well.

“Nice to meet you, Mister Kennedy,” you said politely. Leon suppressed a chuckle as you repeated his name, the sound of it on your lips was like music to his ears. It was as if you were singing his name, rather than simply saying it.

He smirked when you called him 'Mister Kennedy,' finding your use of a formal title both amusing and endearing. "Please, call me Leon. 'Mister Kennedy' makes me feel old," he teased, his voice low and smooth.

You couldn’t help the small smile from reaching your lips, just minutes ago he beat you in a game of poker and yet, he didn’t make you feel bad for losing. You nodded at him, “Alright, I won’t.”

Then, one of the two bodyguards approached Leon, leaning down to his ear to whisper, “Sir, your presence is being requested on the tenth floor,” he whispered. Leon's expression, although unchanging, darkened at the bodyguard's words. He knew exactly what it meant for his presence to be "requested" on the tenth floor. But he didn't want to leave just yet. He was enjoying the time he had with you, he was enjoying your company and your sweet demeanor. If only he could stay a little bit longer.

He nodded at the bodyguard, silently signaling that he understood. He looked back at you, his expression softening once again.

"I have business to attend to," he said quietly, a hint of regret in his voice.

“Oh, right, yeah,” you muttered quickly under your breath as you stood up, fixing your outfit that you were wearing, “I shouldn’t take more of your time,” you said softly and politely, “It was nice meeting you, Leon. I hope to play with you in the future.”

Leon looked up at you as you stood up, his gaze following every movement. He could feel his heart skip a beat, he found you truly adorable. He felt a pang of disappointment when you mentioned not taking up more of his time. But he understood, he had responsibilities to take care of.

"The pleasure was all mine, darling," he said quietly, his voice slightly strained. He didn't want you to leave, but he had no choice.

“Sir,” one bodyguard spoke up from behind him, “Should we keep an eye on her?” He asked as the bodyguard’s gaze remained on your form, you were already standing by the bar drinking a damn fountain drink.

It was clear that the bodyguards were good at their job, they wanted to keep Leon safe since he was a mafia boss and enemies could be everywhere. Leon's gaze shifted from yours as he focused on his bodyguard's question. He could sense the slight tension in the air, the bodyguards were always cautious. But that was their job, to protect him at all costs.

He shook his head slightly, "No, that won't be necessary," he replied coldly, "She's harmless," he added, his eyes fixated on you once more.

“Yes sir,” the bodyguard said before the two bodyguards began to escort Leon to the elevator to get to the tenth floor. As Leon walked towards the elevator, escorted by his bodyguards, he couldn't help but glance back one last time, his eyes settling on your form at the bar.

He felt a twinge of something, was it concern? He wasn't sure. The thought of you being approached by someone else made him uneasy. But he had to remind himself that you weren't his responsibility.

He stepped into the elevator, his mind still occupied with thoughts of you.

"Watch her," he muttered to his bodyguards, "make sure no one goes near her."

The bodyguard nodded before stepping out of the elevator and went over to watch from a distance to not scare me off.

He was left with the other bodyguard and as they reached the tenth floor, the doors opened to reveal a very expensive suite, “Ah, Leon,” the voice of a man rang as he approached Leon.

The man was no other than a guy that went by an alias, “Kyle”, for safety reasons, “Glad you could make it,” he was dressed in nothing but a bathrobe, the belt tight around his waist to keep him from flashing anyone. Kyle was a character, that much was clear. Greeting Leon as if they were old friends.

"Cut the pleasantries," Leon replied coolly as he strode past Kyle, into the extravagant suite. Despite his cold exterior, his mind was still occupied by thoughts of you.

Kyle laughed and followed after Leon, “Always cutting to the chase, huh, amigo?” He said the Spanish word in a terrible accent, he didn’t even know Spanish.

Kyle was truly one of a kind but he was an ally to Leon’s mafia. Matter of fact, he provided Leon with the newest weapons from an Italian manufacturer. Illegal weapon trafficking.

“Got some new ladies you might want to see,” he said as he walked in front of Leon, guiding him to his room. As he entered his room, the sheets were messy and two naked women laid on the bed. With a flick of his wrist, the ladies stepped out of the room, giving Leon a wink.

As they entered the room, Leon couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sight of the naked women on the bed. Was this really necessary?

"I'm not interested," he said bluntly, his cold tone sending a clear message. Despite his outwardly tough demeanor, Leon disliked the lifestyle that Kyle embodied.

Kyle definitely had a typical lifestyle of a play boy, always finding girls to sleep with as he spends money on expensive champagne and clothes. But he was a good provider for the mafia. Kyle was needed; a necessary evil.

But Leon wasn’t a womanizer like that, especially with the way he treated you. Kyle chuckled and shook his head, “Oh, I think you will,” he muttered before I retrieved a box and opened it. Leon's expression changed. The sight of the new weapons in the box piqued his interest.

“Got these new ladies fresh from Rome,” he said, revealing new manufactured guns, “These are in beta testing but their purpose isn’t like regular guns—no. These babies hold up to thrice the ammunition and can fire double bullets at the same time.”

He could already see the potential these guns held. The extra ammunition and the ability to fire double bullets at once could give his men an advantage in a dangerous situation.

"Interesting," he said quietly, his eyes fixed on the guns. Despite his dislike for Kyle's lifestyle, Leon had to admit he knew how to source the best weapons.

"How did you get your hands on these?" he asked, his voice now lacking any hostility.

Kyle shrugged and leaned back, “I sent a blueprint last month over to my manufacturer in Italy. Said he’d give it a try. He experimented here and there right before he sent me these prototypes.”

“But I don’t recommend using them yet,” he said as he walked over to stand next to Leon, draping an arm around Leon’s shoulders as if they were best friends.

“Something about them probably not working and backfiring. Blah, blah, blah. You know the nerd stuff,” he said.

Leon's brow furrowed as he heard Kyle's words. Using untested weapons could be risky, especially if they had the potential for a devastating recoil. He pushed Kyle's arm off his shoulders, his expression turning cold again. He wasn't fond of being touched, especially by someone like Kyle.

"Then why show them to me if they might not work?" he asked with a hint of irritation in his voice. He preferred to focus on proven weapons, not experimental ones.

As his arm was pushed off his shoulders, Kyle wasn’t a bit ashamed, “Well, before we proceed with the testing, we needed your approval.”

Then, Kyle grew a bit serious, which only ever happened once a fortnight. He leaned closer to Leon to whisper in his ear, “I’ve heard that there’s been recent suspicious activity up north where the colony is. This is just a precaution because I don’t want anyone stealing my guns.”

Ever since Leon became the new mafia boss, which was years ago, many other bosses have tried to take him down. Even if it meant stealing his resources. Despite his disdain for Kyle, Leon couldn't ignore the serious look on his face. He knew that when Kyle spoke like this, he wasn't messing around.

"Suspicious activity, you say?" he replied, his voice low and calculating. He didn't appreciate being targeted, especially by other mafia bosses, "Any idea who might be behind it?"

He shrugged and shook his head, “No, there’s no idea who it might be but I’ve heard rumors that it’s someone who’s after your territory.”

Kyle sighed and stored the guns away once more, “In any case. Call me up if you change your plan, I’ll send word to Italy to keep producing and testing. Until then,” he said before he patted Leon on the shoulder and walked out of his room saying, “Alright, ladies, who’s ready for some sexy time on the jacuzzi?”

Leon watched as Kyle left the room, rolling his eyes at the man's behavior. Despite Kyle's eccentricities and playboy lifestyle, he couldn't deny that he was an asset to the mafia. As the sound of laughter and splashing water came from the jacuzzi, Leon turned his attention back to the matter at hand. The possibility of someone targeting his territory unsettled him.

With a deep sigh, he ran a hand through his hair, his thoughts once again drifting to you. He couldn't seem to get you off his mind.

“Do you want to go back to the main floor, Sir?” His bodyguard asked. Leon's eyes went to his bodyguard, and he nodded.

"Yes," he said simply. He had to go back to the main floor. He knew that his bodyguards had been instructed to keep an eye on you, and he was curious to see if you were still there.

As he stepped out of the room, he couldn't help but glance over at the bar. He could see you sitting there, sipping on a Dr. Pepper. Despite the presence of his bodyguard, he took a subtle step closer, watching you from a distance.

Now the three men were watching you, Leon with his two bodyguards behind him. They were no longer on the tenth floor and instead were on the main floor where you were.

“Who is she, boss?” One bodyguard asked. They had seen Leon play with you for a few rounds but they didn’t hear your conversation. Of how he forgave your debt and asked for your name, but they did see him kiss your hand. Leon's gaze never left you, his eyes watching your every move. He could feel the curiosity of his bodyguards, they had clearly noticed his interaction with you.

“Do you know her?” The other bodyguard asked. They still kept professional but their curiosity was high. They’ve never seen Leon talk to a woman before, he’d usually brush them off because he knew they were after his money.

"She's nobody," Leon replied, his voice cold and distant. Even though he had shown you a rare moment of humanity, he didn’t want his bodyguards to think he had a “soft spot”, especially towards a stranger.

"She's just a poker player, that's all," he added, dismissing their curiosity. But his eyes told a different story, he couldn't tear his gaze away from you.

“A terrible one,” one commented, “A Diamond queen and clover king against your straight flush… she’s got confidence.”

“Or maybe she didn’t know. Our boss holds a really good poker face,” the other replied. Which was true, Leon was a damn good poker player but you also didn’t play like a professional. You barely knew what you were doing.

You turned around to get your bag from the stool next to your standing form, seemingly finished with your drink and getting ready to pay for it.

Leon's eyes followed your every movement, his mind racing, "She was a challenge,” he said quietly, his voice betraying a hint of amusement. Despite your lack of skill, he had enjoyed playing with you, it had been surprisingly fun.

As he saw you turn to retrieve your bag, he felt a strange pang in his chest. He didn’t want you to leave yet. He took a step forward, his bodyguards following closely behind him.

You were too busy looking through your bag, pulling out your wallet and counting the bills you had to pay your tab. Would it even be considered a tab if you got non-alcoholic drinks? You didn’t notice Leon returning at all, his bodyguards didn’t say anything. They knew better than to prod at his life choices. If anything, they’d just keep a more careful eye on you to make sure nothing bad happened.

“Hold on—“ you said to the bartender as you counted your coins to give him the exact number of your total.

As you began counting your coins to pay the bartender, he couldn't help but step forward and reach into his pocket, "I'll cover it," he said, his voice firm and commanding. He felt strangely compelled to take care of you, even in this small gesture.

You straightened up at the sound of his voice, your heart jumped and beat quickly as you whipped your head to look at none other than Leon. Always a true gentleman.

“I—“ you said as yoi looked at him and the bartender before you looked back at his blue eyes, “No, it’s okay. I’ve got this,” you said quietly. He’d already forgiven your debt and now he wants to pay for your drinks?

Leon's expression remained stoic as he heard your protest. He didn't expect you to be so modest and determined to pay for your own drinks. But he found it endearing.

"It's not a problem," he replied, his voice firm. He could sense your guilt, but he didn’t want you to feel like a charity case. He genuinely wanted to take care of you, even if it was in small ways. He slid a few bills to the bartender, paying for your drinks and closing the tab before you could argue further.

Your cheeks blushed again as you looked away, you’ve never had anyone take care of you like he has, “You’re too kind,” you muttered in a flustered tone.

He was already breaking his own rules because the bodyguards seemed to have picked up on some details. It wasn’t common for them to see Leon be so… interested in a woman. Much less someone like you but they found it oddly endearing. Secretly cheering for their boss.

Leon was taller than you so you had to look up at him, “Did everything go well with your business?” You asked genuinely. Leon's expression softened slightly as he saw your flushed cheeks and your sincere question. He was unused to caring about someone’s well being, but he found himself wanting to share a bit with you.

"Yes, business went well," he confirmed, his voice remaining cool and collected. But there was a hint of tiredness in his eyes, the stresses of being a mafia boss often taking a toll on him.

He studied you for a moment, his gaze calculating but not unkind. "And how have you been?" he asked, surprising himself with his own question.

“Oh, you know,” you faintly shrugged your shoulders as you pointed towards the bar, “I stayed there the whole time. I don’t like wandering on my own. Lots of… creeps out here, y’know?”

But he wasn’t a creep. He was far from it. Leon was a gentleman, a man who knew how to treat women right.

Leon chuckled, a rare sound coming from him, at your straightforward answer. He found it refreshing how honest you were, unlike the fake smiles and flattery he usually received from people.

His eyes swept the casino floor, full of various people, men, and women. He knew you were right about the creeps that roamed around, especially with a pretty face like yours.

"You're right about the creeps," he agreed, his voice low and protective. "A pretty thing like you shouldn’t be out here alone."

Your cheeks blushed again when he said you were pretty, why was he so casual with the compliments?! But nevertheless, you couldn’t stop the smile forming on your lips, “Yeah… I was about to leave since it was getting late, actually,” you said as you quickly remembered what you were doing.

“I was going to get an Uber and go back home. I should probably practice my poker skills too,” you said with a small smile. Leon's gaze darkened slightly at the mention of you leaving. He didn't want this night to end, not when he'd enjoyed your company more than he thought he would.

He took a step closer, shortening the distance between you. "An Uber?" he repeated, his voice taking on a hint of disapproval. "With all the creepers out there?"

He paused, seeming to consider something before speaking again. "Let me give you a ride home," he offered, his eyes never leaving yours.

Your eyes widened a bit and your breath hitched when he stepped closer to you and offered you a ride home. You should’ve said no but for some reason, you felt safe in his presence. You slowly nodded your head, feeling like you shouldn’t reject his offer. He’s been kind to you and you wanted to be kind as well, “Only if it’s not a burden.”

“I’d hate to shift your plans for the night. I don’t want to be an inconvenience,” you said with a nervous laugh as you played with your hands.

Leon couldn't help but chuckle at your words and the nervousness in your laugh. You were clearly unused to being cared for like this, but it was almost endearing to see you flustered. He shook his head, his expression serious. "It's not a burden," he reassured you. "And you're not an inconvenience. I wouldn't offer unless I meant it."

He motioned for his bodyguards to follow as he put a hand gently on your lower back, beginning to guide you towards the exit. You gathered your things, which was just your purse, and let him guide you towards the exit. His bodyguards were shocked to say the least. They knew Leon didn’t like to be touched or touch other people but here he was, gently putting his hand on you to guide you out of the building. They were in for a fun ride.

As you made it out and stepped outside, you were met with wind. The wind blew over your form, goosebumps on your skin as you wrapped your arms over your chest to give yourself some heat. Leon noticed your body shiver, the cool night air obviously getting to you. He was so used to suppressing his own physical needs that he had briefly forgotten that you weren’t built for the harsher elements like he was.

"Here," he said gruffly. He removed his black jacket and gently placed it around your shoulders, his fingers lingering for a moment on the fabric.

The black suit jacket was big on you but it was so warm, it even smelled like his cologne and you felt your cheeks flare up. He smelled good, “Thank you,” you said as you looked up at him.

A black car pulled in front of you, it was fancy and the black was matte. No doubt, the latest car. Just how rich was he? One of the bodyguards moved towards the door and opened it for the two of you. Leon nodded in acknowledgement of your thanks, his eyes never leaving yours, "After you," he said, gesturing for you to get into the car first. His voice was gruff, but there was a warm undertone in it.

He waited, standing by the car door, until you climbed in, before he slid into the seat beside you, closing the door behind him. The bodyguards climbed into the front seat, the engine purring softly to life.

No one would’ve believed them if they said that Leon was warm and kind. They’ve seen the type of ruthless man he could be, he was a mafia boss! Hence why the bodyguards were shocked. They’ve never seen him act this way with anyone.

You sat next to Leon, your thighs pressed together and your form still wearing his black suit jacket, “Thank you,” you said before you climbed to sit next to him. You were new to the whole taken care of thing. Leon felt a pang of something unfamiliar in his chest when you thanked him again. It was as if you weren’t used to being treated like this, but he found himself wanting to give you more. He felt the strange urge to wrap you in his arms, to keep you close and away from the world.

He let out a low hum of acknowledgment. "You don’t need to keep thanking me," he said quietly, his voice low and rough.

You softy laughed at his words despite his low and rough voice, “Sorry, force of habit. I’m not used to people being so kind to me. Especially after playing Poker with me,” you replied with a small but genuine smile.

“Most guys would either just get mad at me for beating them or they would humiliate me further for beating me,” you said quietly, your hands laying on your lap as you looked down at them.

Then you glanced back at him, “But you’re different. I think… I like to have you as my opponent… if you’d let me,” but it was more than just Poker, right? It was about connecting, about seeing him again. His expression softened as you spoke again, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, "You like having me as your opponent, huh?" he said, his voice holding a hint of amusement.

He reached out, his hand gently resting on top of yours, his touch calloused but surprisingly gentle, "You don’t even know what you’re asking for."

Your breath hitched and you looked down at his hand on top of yours. Even though he’d held your hand and kissed it, you still got flustered.

But he was right. Essentially, you didn’t even know him. You met him today and lost a poker game. But something in you wanted to keep seeing him, you didn’t want to let such a kind man go.

“I can learn,” you whispered. This went beyond poker, even though you spoke about it, hidden words were conveyed. You didn’t know what you were asking for, not knowing he was in the mafia. Leon's smirk grew at your words, a hint of something more behind it. He could hear the double meaning in your words, and it sent a thrill through him. Here you were, this timid, pretty thing, wanting to get to know him better.

His fingers gently squeezed your hand as he spoke, his voice low. "You’re a fast learner, I bet," he said, his eyes never leaving yours.

But then his expression darkened slightly, the reality of his world intruding on the moment. He was a mafia boss, and you… you were innocent and pure.

You nodded, “I like learning things. Knowledge is power, is what George Orwell said once,” you muttered. Leon's smirk turned into a half-smile at your mention of George Orwell. This girl was full of surprises. It seemed to him that you were more than just a pretty face working as a pit boss.

His grip on your hand tightened slightly, as if reflexively trying to keep a grip on you. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, he should let you go before you get swept into the dangerous world he lived in.

But something about you was making him greedy. The Mafia Boss never had to worry about letting go before, now, he didn’t want to.

You felt his hand tighten around yours and you didn’t want to let go yet. Once you reached your apartment, you looked at him and leaned towards his face to whisper, “Think it over,” you whispered, your brows furrowing a bit before you let go of his hand and got out of the car.

Leon's eyes widened slightly at your whisper, your unexpected boldness sending a jolt of surprise, and something else through him. You'd just told him to think things over, as if it was a date that you were asking him on. But before he could open his mouth to reply, you had already slipped out of the car, leaving him a bit taken aback.

He stayed sitting in his seat for a beat, his fingers clenching the leather, his eyes fixed on your figure. You were playing with fire, and you didn’t even realize it.

You were about to walk into your apartment when you realized you were still wearing his suit jacket. You quickly ran back towards the car and slipped it the jacket off, giving him an awkward smile, “I, uh…”

“Almost forgot this,” you muttered softly, the pink hue on your cheeks not leaving any time soon. Leon took the jacket in his hands, his gaze lingering on you as you handed it to him. He took in your flushed cheeks, your awkward smile, and it sent a pang through his chest.

He wanted to reach out, to touch your cheek, to do something to keep you from leaving. But instead, he simply folded the jacket over his arm, his fingers tracing the fabric.

"Keep it," he said, his voice rough. "It looks better on you."

Your eyes widened a bit and your lips parted into a small ‘Oh’ when he gave you the jacket once more. To which you slowly took, you didn’t want to be greedy but you loved the way it smelled.

“Thank you,” you whispered sincerely, “For tonight.”

The offer still stood. You were willing to throw yourself down into a fire if it meant getting to know him better. Isn’t that what Poker is about? To understand your opponent? But this wasn’t about Poker anymore.

Leon clenched his jaw as he watched your expression, your sincere thanks only making it harder for him to let you go. Your naivete was like a double-edged sword - it drew him in but also made him hesitant.

But he wasn’t some saint. No, far from it. He was a Mafia Boss, and he wasn’t used to denying himself.

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes locking with yours, his voice a rough, quiet murmur. “When can I see you again?”

You stared at him through the window, a bit surprised that he wanted to see you again. You were just some idiot poker player and yet… was he actually considering seeing you again?

You stood there in shock for a few seconds like an absolute idiot before you realized you hadn’t said anything. Your cheeks flushed and you quickly cleared your throat, “Uh—“

He paused, his eyes roaming over you, taking in your flushed cheeks, your uncertainty. It was a new sight for him, having a woman so clearly out of his world be so... vulnerable.

“You want to see me again?” You asked unsure. Leon’s lips quirked up into a small smirk at your reaction, your surprise and confusion only endearing you to him more. You were just so damn endearing. He leaned back in his seat, his eyes never leaving yours, his gaze sharp, “Yes, I want to see you again.”

“Well, I’m free this Saturday… if you want to—I dunno—go out…?”

“Saturday it is, then. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

This time, you couldn’t help the smile that reached your lips. Was he truly taking you out on a date? You nodded your head at him, your lips curling up into a genuine smile, “Alright…” you muttered quietly, “I’ll see you then. You know where I live anyway.”

He offered you a ride and now knows where you lived, but somehow, you felt comfortable with him knowing, “Goodnight, Leon.”

You walked backwards, looking at him for as long as possible before eventually turning around to get into your apartment. Leon watched as you retreated back into your apartment, his gaze following your every move. There was a strange flutter in his chest, something that he hadn’t felt in a long time. Something that he thought he had lost.

When you disappeared from sight, he let out a low, rough exhale, running his hand through his short hair. This was dangerous, getting close to you, but he couldn’t seem to find it in himself to care.

“Goodnight, doll,” he murmured, watching your door close behind you.

[kittyit]

One thing I don't like about trans critical spaces is how they are focused on trans women being unattractive and 'cringe.' this is just my personal experience, but I have been sexually victimized by multiple trans women, most of whom passed, many of whom were skinny and beautiful and most of which had high brow tastes and no interest in anime or other cringe topics. one of these TIMs was a serial sexual assailant and I think probably attracted to underage boys, and she was also beautiful and charismatic. Meanwhile, I also know multiple trans women who are good people and don't infringe on female spaces but who are conventionally "ugly", broad-shouldered, and have masculine interests. It also seems like the only thing TIMs criticize about each other publically is being "ugly", large, or fat.

my position has consistently been for about 15 years that mocking someone's appearance is not a feminist act. it simply isn't.

mocking appearance is essentially a cruel hobby, it's primate social aggression we're using our huge brains for. it's really fun, and that's why almost everyone does it. i sometimes do it too, in private, in intimate company, and it's enjoyable. i say this to clarify that despite my position, i don't set myself apart or above from women who do it. i do it too. and it's constant in basically every subculture online. julie bindel actually posted on her facebook recently troubled about this same thing. as you said, it's so common in queer/trans circles too, the long-forgotten 2013 values of tenderqueerism fallen to the wayside. stan culture, politics, just basically everything...i really can't stress enough that in my opinion, it is a hobby

mocking appearances is not feminist or activism. it quite often is anti-feminist. it's kindergarten stuff to not judge a book by its cover. it doesn't matter what a male person looks like - he is still male and all considerations that apply to male people apply to him. i don't need to think a male person has a hideous appearance to criticize him for any of the oppressive acts he's doing. focus on appearance (or other unrelated personal attacks) often takes the sting out of a criticism of someone's character, morals or actions and makes your argument easier to dismiss. and of course the now mocked & dismissed concept that when you rip into someone's appearance, you do friendly fire to anyone around who shares those features. but of course this doesn't matter to anyone because it's 1. so fun 2. we're so used to it 3. everyone is doing it 4. so who cares? (I do. However)

i also just can't really scrape up that much finger wagging anymore at women who do spend a huge amount of time blowing off steam mocking the insane parodies that trans women present as. it's basically evil imaginative play. it's just not activism and acting like it is, as you said, is really detrimental to radical feminism being understood as a feminist way of thought that deeply affects women's lives.

as for the rest of this, have you read pronouns are rohypnol? you do not have to call a serial rapist pedophile you knew she. there is no one here but us, he cannot hear you. i encourage you to free up processing power in your mind, especially if you've survived trans male violence. calling the men who harmed you he can be a turning point in reclaiming your own sense of reality, it was for me

[sweetbillwriting]

The Key To His Heart - I

Description: As a hard-working novelist and single dad, Bill hasn't had much time for dating but gets an unorthodox chance to meet women when his friend persuades him to be a part of a dating TV show. 

Characters: AU Bill Skarsgård, where his life changes in 2013 and later 2019. 

Setting: L.A, 2024, but in an alternative universe with Bill having a completely different life.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes. 

Notes: I changed the title of this story! This is just a fun story; please don't overanalyze too much haha. Here is the teaser.

Bill would never confess how much he missed a woman in his life. He wasn't the type to talk loudly about his feelings with friends or family, so instead he carried the loneliness by himself. He did everything by himself and even for his daughters because he wasn't just a separated dad; he was a widower. He didn't have anyone else to parent with, but he didn't have anyone to be a man with either. He needed a woman in his life that could lift him up, share the good and the bad with, and snuggle up with at night. He was ready now, ready to let a woman into his and his daughters' lives, but he felt it would be hard, he had already had a big love.

He stood in front of a full-length mirror in his walk-in-closet. His bedroom had it when he moved into the mansion, but he didn't have enough clothes to fill it, so more than half of the shelves were full of books and movies instead. He wore a dark blue suit with a light luster in it, paired with a crisp white tee. His hair was combed messily back and to the side.

Bill knew he was handsome. He was tall, had an athletic build, and features that fit a high couture model. He rarely felt self-conscious about his looks; instead, it was his way of being that could make him doubt himself. He was a thinker, and because of it, he was not always fully present within the presence he actually was in. He got nervous in the spotlight and could be so goal-oriented he could sometimes stomp on others feelings, never on purpose; he just liked honesty and open communication, but not everyone could handle his ways. He was not a charming prince. He didn't have American charm and timing, he had Swedish awkwardness and ironic humor. Why he would participate in a dating program on TV confused him more than the people surrounding him, but his friend, Herman, had persuaded him it was a great idea that he could bring something new to the format. Similar programs had been made for years, but it had more or less been men shaped in the same mold.

Herman sat behind Bill on a bench with an emerald green velvet cushion and agreeably nodded towards Bill.

“You look great, man,” he said, and stood up from the bench. He cleared his throat to stress Bill a bit; both of them knew twelve women were waiting on him downstairs along with a film team. Bill swallowed hard; his chest even pained with nerves, and for some seconds he thought about refusing to go down. It all was so silly, and that twelve women would want to date him felt impossible; they would leave the first week when they realized he was a workaholic just thinking about his daughters and new projects. He had never dated, he didn't really know how you did it, and he didn't have female friends; he wasn't such a man twelve women would fight about.

“Time to meet the chicks,” said Herman playfully. He was a producer for the program, and it was important for him that Bill performed. Bill nodded and laughed nervously before going to the stairs. He could see how the cameraman, behind the camera pointed towards the stairs, started to film. He took a deep breath before walking down the broad staircase with a straight back and a hand in his pants pocket.

It started now, the adventure. He looked out over the sea of women standing by the end of the stairs, waiting for him; most of them were dressed in cocktail dresses and heels. They applauded when they saw him, and he smiled, embarrassed, looking away so they could see the deep dimple in his cheek. He could hear some giggles of endearment of seeing him blush lightly. A servant came up to him with a silver tray holding champagne flutes. He gave the glass a displeased look. It wasn't the glass he had said they would use. Champagne shouldn't be served in flutes, but he still gave the server a small smile before taking a glass.

“Ehm, Yeah, welcome to my place. I hope you will feel at home. I look forward to getting to know all of you. Cheers!”

He wondered if he sounded awkward, like a nervous teenage boy, but he could see Herman behind the girls smiling pleased. The girls lifted their glasses and cheered with him. Bill smiled wide at them because they actually looked at him like he was extraordinary, and some of the girls were so fine he could feel his heart beating with attraction. This would be interesting.

×××

It was not as bad, as he had thought it would be being the center of attention of twelve beautiful women. It was a cocktail party with just him, the women, and of course the camera team, but they kept their distance even if he knew they captured everything on tape. Wherever he was, the women looked at him, even if they talked to each other. It was strange, but he also felt himself grow a few inches. He talked lightly with some of the girls, but there were a bit too many impressions to take everything in. He was talking to two women about their hometowns when suddenly someone took his hand and pulled him out on the deck surrounding that part of the house. It was a woman with long raven hair and golden eyeshadow. She was probably some years older than himself.

“Maria,” she said confidently and stretched out her hand to him. Bill smiled, impressed by her self esteem, and shook her hand.

“Bill.” She laughed softly and nodded.

“I know that.”

“You do?” Bill said playfully and took a sip of the old-fashioned drink in his hand.

“Mhm, you know, you might be the reason I'm here.”

“Oh yeah?”

There was a flirty vibe between them at once, and Bill really liked it.

“Yeah…” She gave him a teasing smile before changing the subject. I'm a writer too.”

“Oh? What do you write?”

“I write for teens, like teen noir.”

Bill nodded; he had heard about the genre but couldn't really say what it was, and at that moment he didn't feel he needed an explanation.

“I guess I haven't read anything by you then.”

Maria shrugged her shoulders as a joke, and Bill smiled.

“I think we could be a fantastic team…” Her voice was low and she looked at him with big eyes. She was no longer as flirty; she looked more at him like she already had a crush, and Bill felt the nerves go up at once.

“Yeah, yeah…” He drank up his drink. “Time to find a new drink,” he said, and he showed her his empty glass. Her soft eyes became a bit much for him, but he also knew his assignment for the night was to talk with the women, as many as possible.

×××

“Violet,” she said with a giggle. She looked like that girl he would call an American “girl next door." They stood by the bar the production had put up in the living room while he waited on his Negroni, and she just had gotten her Cosmopolitan. She looked really young, and he was right.

“I'm 22. That's not a problem, right? You felt so open in that interview.”

“No, no… But I should be honest and say I've never dated someone so much younger than me.”

He gave her a quick glance. Her legs were long and golden and looked so smooth.

“I'm mature for my age. I have my own company, you know.”

“Oh yeah?” He said interested but started to imagine it was something silly, like selling unicorn keyrings.

“Yeah, I sell environmentally friendly plastic products to hospitals, like gloves and mugs, and so on.”

Bill looked at her, surprised. It wasn't what he expected from a 22-year-old.

“That's, that's impressive.” He smiled at her and she giggled proudly.

“Yeah, it actually works really well.”

“When did you start it?”

“Two years ago. I studied to be a nurse but saw how many plastic products the hospital used and felt I wanted to make a change.”

Bill couldn't stop smiling because the more she talked, the more impressed he got.

“I think it's my turn now,” said a girl next to them. She was short, so he needed to drop his gaze. He looked at the girl's face for a few seconds, then wiped the corner of his mouth while swallowing hard. Wow. Wow. He had said Ana De Armas was beautiful in his interview, and here was her lookalike. He turned to Violet with a smile, trying to mask his feelings.

“Thank you for the conversation, Violet.” She smiled disappointedly and looked at the girl who had enough guts to lay her hand on his arm and steer him away from her and the other girls. She steered him to the hallway where no one was and stood a few steps up the stairs to be as tall as him but also have her arms around his neck. Bill had his drink in his hand, but he also felt it would be a bit much for him to feel the girl's midnight blue chiffon dress with his fingers.

“I read that you're a leo,” she said sensually, and Bill smirked in attraction. Her name was Camila, and she radiated sexiness in such a natural way.

“Yeah?”

“That's why all of us look at you like you're a god. We want to worship you, and you love it, right?”

Bill laughed and snapped his neck as an answer.

“And you deserve the attention. You're really ambitious, creative, and full of passion.”

He just stood and smirked, especially because she dragged her long nails through the hair on his neck, and he could feel it tickle all the way down to his cock.

“What's your sign?” He said and took a sip from his drink.

“Scorpio.” It didn't say Bill anything, but even that sounded sexy, so he licked his lips and gave her a pleased nod. His full attention was on the sensual brunette in front of him, so he didn't notice that two women walked by the hallway and looked at them. They were on the way to the bathroom, talking about his latest book, when they saw Camila standing with her arms around Bill's neck. The redhead, Sandra, looked at them with big eyes while Maria looked away.

“So typical it's her he stands like that with...” said Sandra, and rolled her eyes. Maria didn't say anything but looked at Bill disappointedly.

×××

Bill saw a pair of eyes behind a camera that stared at him. It was Herman who, with a head movement, told him it was time to go to the next woman. Bill didn't feel the need though; he liked being worshiped under Camila’s gaze.

“Ehm, hm, I must give the other women my attention now…” he said. The sigh was close. He wanted to stay there.

“Do you?” She said it teasingly and dragged her hands over his shoulders. Bill nodded a little with a strained smile. “But thank you for your time.”

Camila released him slowly and turned on her heel. Bill looked her up and down while they both walked up the short stairs to the rest of the big hallway. Maybe he already knew who he would choose in the end.

While walking into the living room, several of the girls smiled at him to allure him to talk to just them, but Herman, behind a camera, nodded Bill towards a bleached bottle blonde by the fireplace. She looked like his own age, but not at all his type. Her dress was strapless and made of burgundy faux leather.

“What's your name?” He asked her kindly while she played with her bleached hair.

“Victoria,” she said with a sweet smile. Her voice was soft as silk and nothing he had expected. “We have actually met before.”

“Have we?” Bill furrowed his brows but also felt stupid that he didn't remember her. Victoria smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

“My dad owns a bookstore close to Central Park, and you were there to sign some books... I understand you don't remember me; it was a long time ago, and I had another hair color.” Bill nodded, trying to remember her or even the bookstore, but he couldn't find anything in his head. He did so many signings, especially in New York, so he couldn't remember.

“What hair color did you have then?”

“Light brown, sort of, the boring kind.”

“Like me?” Bill quipped with a smirk.

“What? No, no. Yours is much more chocolate; I was just… Like a rat.” He smiled amused and took a sip of his drink.

“What do you work with?”

“Ehm, I actually work at the bookstore. It's fun because my dad lets me try all kinds of business.” Bill didn't want to be the person judging her for her work, but standing behind a counter in a store felt really uninspiring. He was himself super ambitious and wanted a woman with similar attributes.

“I'm sorry, Victoria, but it's time for me to give the other women a chance.” Victoria nodded.

“Of course, of course.”

But Bill didn't go speak with another girl; instead, the team led him to an armchair between the plants out in the orangery. He knew why they wanted him there; it was time for him to receive questions about the girls that they would edit so it would seem like it was his own thoughts. It would be cut into the show so the viewer could follow his feelings and thoughts.

“Camila is something else… I can't deny I already like her,” he said with a smirk and dragged his hand over his thighs. “I like Maria too; I think she might be intelligent, and we would have much in common. Violet is impressive for her age…” Bill got lost in his own thoughts, thinking about the girls, but mostly Camila.

“What about Victoria?” Asked Herman. Bill knew the viewer wouldn't hear the question, so he must answer it like it was his own words.

“It doesn't feel like Victoria and I have so much in common.”

Bill nodded to himself but then realized he didn't know a thing about Camila but still had her as a favorite. Was he just shallow?

Bill was questioned on whether he believed his soulmate was there. He wasn't really that sappy, talking about soulmates, but he knew what was expected of him.

“I think my soulmate can be here; I look forward to getting to know them all.”

×××

Two girls with similar looks stood and looked up the big stairway leading up to the second floor, where they didn't have permission to be. By the first look, it looked like the brunettes looked at it dreamily, imagining themselves walking up the stairs with Bill, but it wasn't what they looked at. On the wall by the stairs was a big family portrait. Bill looked skinnier with a young girl in his lap; next to him sat a woman with dark blonde hair, heavily pregnant. The couple looked at each other with small, loving smiles while the child smiled big at the photographer. The girls look at Bill's wedding band, then at the woman's big diamond on her finger.

“Isn't it a little bit strange he let it hang there? I mean, it is his ex,” said Julie.

“It's not his ex; it's his late wife. His daughters’ mom,” said Esmeralda lowly and gave Julie an annoyed look.

"Yeah, but couldn't he have taken it down for now? It feels like he’s picking a mistress when she's up there.”

Esmeralda didn't say anything, just crossed her arms and shook her head. Just then they heard footsteps from the top of the stairs, and they both looked up, seeing Bill walking down with elegant loops. He smiled at them and wondered if they stood there waiting for him. He didn't notice how they were looking at the picture, he was so used to it hanging there he didn't really think about it.

“Hey?” He said and walked down to them. Julie blushed and smiled. She felt stupid for commenting on the portrait now when he stood in front of them and gave them a look a married man wouldn't. Esmeralda smiled a bit nervously but answered his hey with a hello.

“What were your names again? I'm sorry, there are so many names.”

They were the girls he had talked about their hometowns with. Both of them answered with sweet smiles, hoping they gave a better impression than the other.

“But both of you're models?”

He said, and looked at them up and down. It was just a reflex, their most important tool was their bodies, so it just went that way.

“Yeah, but with quite different things, I think? I do mostly lingerie shoots.”

Bill looked at her pretty face, trying not to look at her body. He wanted to imagine what she looked like under the black dress, but he didn't want to be that sort of pig and just smiled and nodded. Esmeralda didn't say anything and let Julie continue to talk.

“Are you interested in fashion? Maybe you have seen something with me then?”

Bill laughed uncomfortably and scratched his jaw.

“No… I'm dressed more or less the same way every day. I'm completely lost when it comes to fashion.”

He turned his gaze towards Esmeralda too, but she looked away. He got the feeling she might have lost interest in him all ready. Julie laughed and took a step closer to him, so she stood a bit in front of Esmeralda.

“I could help you with that.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

Bill smirked, and without thinking, he got that feeling he wanted to tease her.

“I think there’s a fashion designer here, isn't there?”

Julie looked at him a bit irritated and put the tip of her tongue against her top lip. It was unnecessary, and maybe she would take offense for real, but it has just come as an impulse to tease her a bit. It didn't seem like it was appreciated, though.

“Bill?”

He turned towards Herman's voice, who stood at the entrance to the big living room.

“Time to give the keys.”

×××

In a popular TV show, the man gave the girls roses as a symbol they could stay; Bill would give them the keys to his house. They were just symbolic keys because his manor had fingerprint locks on every door, but it looked nice that he gave them each a golden key. He thought it was silly; why couldn't he just say who got to stay?

“It's better TV,” said Herman, but Bill still thought it was silly. Oh well, he would just play along.

This time all the girls would get a key. It was only more than right because he hadn't even had time to talk with them all. It wouldn't be fair, not to himself either. He would call them up in order of his interest. The first being who he was most interested in, then continued down to the one he was least interested in. He looked at the girls standing in front of him expectantly, like he had their lives in his hands. He took a key in his hand, looked at its old style but in shiny gold, then up towards the girls.

Camila.

He smiled big when she walked up to him, feeling a tickling feeling in his lower belly, but when he looked behind her, he could see several girls looking at each other pointedly. He felt his throat dry up. He knew they thought he was predictable. Maybe they had even seen them in the hallway. He turned his gaze towards Camila again and smiled warmly at her. She didn't seem to notice the girls judging stares, and he wouldn't let her know about it. He gave her the key, and then she walked away to the side, being an audience to the rest of the ceremony.

Maria.

Julie.

Violet.

Odette.

Tiffany.

Sienna.

Sandra.

Rose.

Brigitte.

Victoria.

Esmeralda.

×××

The camera team also took some of the girls to the armchair in the orangery, one by one, to see what they were thinking about the man they would move in with. Bill pretended he didn't notice that it happened, but in reality he was completely aware of who they brought with them, and it stressed him a bit.

Rose: He's super handsome! But still cute with his big eyes.

Victoria: I don't know why he didn't think I made a good first impression. I don't know; he's hard to read.

Sienna: He seems sweet; maybe even a bit shy?

Camila: I think we have some sort of chemistry. It feels good.

×××

Bill stood in the closet again, but now dressed down to his boxers. He hung up the suit again and then stretched out his back so it cracked satisfyingly. It had been a long day with many impressions, and more would come. Twelve women lived under his roof, and it made him a bit nervous. Five of them lived in the mansion, while seven of them lived in the guest house on the property. Some of them shared a room, and he wondered if it might have started some drama between them. He wouldn't have liked sharing a room with a stranger either. He laid down on the bedroom floor and stretched out before starting to do his obligated pushups. It was especially important now because he couldn't sag up when they would film him every day. While doing his workout routine, he thought back on the women. Several of them had Hollywood good looks, but he wondered if they were more than that. He needed someone who could challenge him intellectually and who could inspire him. A pretty face would maybe be interesting for a few weeks, but in the long run, other things were more important. He thought about Camila. Sexy, sexy Camila. He hadn't even asked her about her profession or her age. He felt ashamed while thinking about it. 

Bill did his nightly routine but couldn't stop thinking about the girls’ looks behind Camila during the ceremony. They had judged him so hard. Sandra, Maria, and Esmeralda had looked at each other like he was a pig. Was he? He had never seen himself as shallow, but Camila was just too good to be true. While crawling down into bed, he instead thought about how nicely the dress had fallen over her curves and how erotic she looked when she licked her blushed lips. What did she wear under such a tight dress? It didn't look like she wore a bra, and he couldn't see a visible panty line. Did she wear underwear? If he had been so sneaky and let a hand move in under her dress, had his fingertips met a wet pussy? He would have petted it like it was the sweetest little kitten. 

Fuck, he was a pig. He looked down at his erection like it had betrayed him. It wasn’t starting well if he was already getting hung up on one of the girls. He needed to get to know Camila instead of just thinking filth. She would be his first evening date. He nodded to himself and looked up at the ceiling. 

She looked horny. She had wanted him. She was probably that sort of girl who loved sucking cock. She would deep throat him completely and look up at him with tears in her eyes while he hit the back of her throat over and over. 

Bill didn't feel ashamed when he pulled out his cock and dragged his hand over it harshly; he just thought about how he would have thrust his cock hard into her mouth and made her feel distress for a few seconds by the suffocated feeling. When he came over his stomach, he felt ashamed though and took a napkin out from his nightstand table and wiped his stomach, grossed out by himself. It wasn't okay that he sexualized her like this already. He needed to treat these women with respect and not reduce them into sex objects when he was alone. He could do better. He was better. 

×××

The alarm clock rang at 06.30, but Bill shut it off and turned to the other side. He had two more alarms, so he never listened to the first one. He wished he could just sleep until 11.00, but he hadn't been able to do that for five years. When the alarm clock rang again at 06.40, he turned it off, but sat up on the edge of the bed with a loud grunt. If he wanted to go out for a run, his chance was now. At nine, they would all meet for a shared breakfast, and he needed to take a shower before that and make himself presentable for the girls, but also the camera. 

Once again, he stared at himself in the full-length mirror. He flexed his stomach a little but felt so stupid that he looked around to see that no one was looking. It would be impossible, but still he felt watched. He flexed his stomach again. It looked good. Actually, really good. He had worked out hard before the show and would continue; he would not look like some tired old dad. 

After putting on his running gear, he walked down the stairs, but realized then he wasn't the only one up early. A blonde was just on the way out through the entrance door, but she turned around when she heard Bill's heavy steps behind her. Rose looked at him surprised. 

“I thought I was the only one up,” she said with a smile, even if the both of them could see the cameraman in a corner. 

“I thought the same. Are you always up this early?” Bill walked down to her. She was tiny, and he almost laughed when he realized their height difference. Her hair was long and golden, gathered in a high ponytail. She looked up at him, then laughed a little. 

“This height difference…” 

Bill laughed a little too. 

“Yeah…” He looked at her running gear and opened the door. 

“Do you want to run with me?” 

They ran in silence; often Bill ran a bit in front of her because he had such long legs and she couldn't keep up, but he waited for her before running around a corner. 

“Problem keeping up?” he said teasingly.

“Fuck you! It's because you have legs like a damn giraffe!” She laughed when she came up to him. They stood panting together by a little park while Bill smirked at the blonde. 

“Would you just have guessed your way if you were out alone, or do you have a GPS?" He looked at her wrists but couldn't see a watch.

“I just guess. I don't like running with all this technical equipment. I just want to run. Like Phoebe in Friends, you know?” She joked and corrected the high ponytail. Bill made an amused nod. “I always find my way home; that's my talent.” 

“Even to my home?” 

“It's my home too right now.” 

They looked at each other with big smiles for a few seconds before running back to the house together. 

“I can help you stretch if you want?” said Rose when they stood outside of the manor. “I don't mean that in such a suggestive way as it sounded like. I'm a personal trainer,” she said with an embarrassed laugh and looked down at her running shoes. 

“Sure, okay,” said Bill, and he led her to the side of the house where they could be on the deck. He looked at her a little amused because of her size, but when she started to stretch out his muscles, he realized there was more power in her than it looks like. 

“Do you have problems with your left shoulder?” She asked and dragged her hands over his broad shoulders when he sat on the floor in front of her. 

“Yeah, I got it in a mountain bike accident, actually. I wasn't as great as I thought I would be.” He looked up at her with big eyes but was forced to squint because she stood close to the morning sun. She was beautiful like that—rosy cheeked and healthy-looking. She didn't wear any makeup. 

“You must take care of yourself,” she said sweetly. And massaged his shoulders lightly. Bill nodded and looked down at his bare knees, where he could see the scars laying on top of each other. Taking care of himself was not his specialty. 

“I should go and shower... So I don't smell like sweat all day,” giggled Rose and made Bill stand up, towering over her again. 

“I think you smell great.” He smiled kindly; it wasn't even flirty, just his thoughts. Rose looked away a little embarrassed, and it made Bill feel a bit confident, so when she was about to walk away, he took her hand in his and pulled her into a soft hug against his warm chest. Rose giggled and looked up at him, still pressed against his chest. 

“I didn't think about how sweaty I am.” He laughed, embarrassed, and released her. 

“No worries, I like it,” she said with a flirty smile before walking through the house to the entrance door. Bill stood and looked out over the lawn for a while with a small smile. He thought he probably would need just a few minutes of alone time before meeting all of the women again; what he didn't know was that several of them were already awake and planned how to get some time alone with him. One of them even stood by the window watching him when he thought he had some privacy.

×

The girls: 

Maria: Writer, 38. 

Violet: Entrepreneur, 22. 

Camila: Engineer, 31. 

Victoria: Shop assistant, 34. 

Sandra: Fashion designer, 36. 

Julie: Model, 25. 

Esmeralda: Model, 27. 

Rose: Personal trainer, 22.

Odette: Pediatrician, 33. 

Tiffany: Actress, 30. 

Sienna: Painter, 28. 

Brigitte: Chef, 29. 

×

[transmutationisms]

do you have more dracula thoughts? i've read the book and honestly the chapters i enjoyed the best were jonathan harker's letters and then it went downhill.

i actually think the most interesting bits To Me have to do with lucy, her mother, and her vampirism [incest goggles on]

i've always seen lucy's choice of preying on children as a reenactment of her relationship with her mother, obviously with roles reversed. when lucy and her mother are both alive, there's a bodily blurring of identity between the two of them: sharing in each other's sicknesses, to the point where the other characters end up lying to each of them about the other's condition, for fear of transmitting / worsening the illness that way. i think what lucy does by preying on children, specifically, as a vampire is essentially create that same maternal relationship, with the blurring of bodies now rendered literal by the supernatural elements of the genre. lucy never progressed past the attachment to her mother by cementing an attachment to a husband; so, as a vampire, all she can do is recreate this dynamic with the children by killing them. we're meant to understand she wants a family, but that desire has been perverted by her transformation into a monster; however, i'd argue this goes beyond just wanting a child and has to do with her unresolved grief about being a child herself. vampiric feeding in the novel is sexual---more obviously with dracula and jonathan/lucy/mina, but nevertheless it's established as an act of both consumption and consummation. so, for lucy to act out motherhood in this specific way is both central to the horror that stoker is trying to convey (in this way, a pretty openly reactionary appeal to the sanctity of the family!) and i think tells us quite a bit about how these filial relationships actually function and what they entail.

the obvious connection here is the number of times dracula is described as having a "childlike" mind, and particularly how this childishness manifests as his desire to kill the men specifically so he can possess 'their' women (i don't have page numbers but he says this toward the end lol). what dracula wants is, on the surface and in the minds of the male characters, a type of possession quite different to a sanctioned legal heterosexual marriage. however, i'd suggest that for readers, just as lucy's vampirism is not a deviation from maternality but a supernatural intensification of it, so is dracula's desire to steal away and possess the female characters a vampiric version of nuclear coupling that doesn't introduce any new elements to the arrangement, only problematises its already existing ones. his "childishness" is therefore a combination of projection on the part of the human characters, and stoker's partially-baked engagement with certain orientalist ethnological discourses about individual psychology as a recapitulation of the progress or decline of a civilisation.

i also wrote a bit about the sci-fi elements and medicine of dracula but those are further down in this tag :-) i honestly wasn't blown away by the book (esp not by stoker's prose) but, it was entertaining and it's such a cultural touchpoint that i felt like it was an informative read regardless.

[ihopesocomic]

I find Nothing's immediate attachment to Hover actually pretty realistic in a sad way.

She's been abused all her life, even before she was born into a society that told her she had little to no value to anyone because she was a female cub

Then she got injured defending herself and instead of protecting her her mother married the person who caused her disability and then put all the blame on her for being a child who was attacked.

Hover was the only person who wa remotely nice to her, of course she immediately fell for her eventhough Hover is terrible

She immediately attached herself to someone she thought was the one person who wouldn't treat her like her family did, and even when Hover treats her just as bad she still want sto be with her because Hover *has* to be different. Because if Hover treats her like nothing too, maybe that's just what she is

It's so depressingly realistic how Nothing jumps from bad familial relationship to bad romantic relationship

Like MP could've done something with that where it shows Nothing going from an abusive mom to an abusive partner and thinking that partner treats her better because she doesn't want to face reality or she just doesn't know how bad this is and only realizes when she meets someone else who does treat her right and she reflects on how awful Hover was(yknow with her meeting new friends she goddammit she deserves a healthy friendgroup who doesn't mistreat her or downplay the abuse she's faced)

Because Hover is just awful

But instead of addressing this very real thing victims of abuse go through with how people like Hover who jump at you for any mistake you make will 100% turn their back on you when you need their help because you didn't do what they want

They instead make it that Hover was just angwy guys :c and Nothing made mistakes too!

Ignore the fact that she left her disabled girlfriend to fight a bigger lion to defend her brother AFTER she just got berated by her mother for being disabled(Hover was too busy picking her nose to defend the supposed love of her life), only to then ALSO berate Nothing for missing her assessment while Nothing's life was just threatened, she was verbally abused, and her brother is in danger, AND HOVER DID NOTHING

but priorities

It's just

So scarily realistic how Nothing sought safety and love from a partner and she ended up with someone like Hover

And she was literally never treated with any kindness ever that she doesn't even know what it looks like anymore

I actually touched upon this in the other ask regarding Nothing x Hover where I said that Nothing appears to be emotionally vulnerable and needy in this situation and I was absolutely not giving the show kudos or leeway by saying that.

The bottom line is that folks like you and me care more about how these characters came across or could potentially come across than Tribble herself ever did.

Like you say, it would've been an ideal thing to show that Nothing is supposed to be in this vulnerable position with Hover. But the sickening thing is that the relationship is sold as being very healthy and wholesome to the point where there's a shit-ton of ship art out there where they're being just that.

Not to mention Hover wasn't even nice to her. She was what an able-bodied individual's perception of being nice to a disabled person is... which is asking intrusive questions about our disabilities, making jokes at the expense of our disabilities... You get the idea.

But yeah, I agree with all this and it just further solidifies why Nothing's relationship with Hover was very one-sided and abusive.

It could also be argued that Hover was also very used to only thinking about herself and nobody else as a prideless lion, hence why she chose to go off with Farleap and Silentstalk. Because they could offer what she felt Nothing could not, which were cheat codes to get through the huntress assessment.

But Hover fans like to pretend this didn't happen, of course. Along with everything else you've pointed out. Trust me, we've been there. It's certainly a group of stans that love to cherry-pick and ignore blatant evidence that their fave is problematic. lol - RJ

[wishcamper]

Nessian Week Day 5 - Behind Closed Doors

I meant to write a sexy, Casino Royale-esque poker scene but it somehow ended up as Cassian fangirling over his wife for 3k words so uh. Here you go.

Read here or on ao3!

High Stakes

A/N: This prompt really made me want to play with the idea of layers of intimacy in long-term relationships because a) I don’t think we have enough representations of healthy, fulfilling, functional monogamy and b) I‘ve always thought there was beautiful potential for Nessian to know and understand each other to the point where they can see all the layers of the other person, and be able to hold space for the other’s complexity. I’d just really like to believe that’s possible. So I hope that comes across. 

I’m exploring some of these same ideas in ACOVAV, my ongoing ACOSF fix-it. Questions around the character’s experiences and my own, like: what does it look like to build tension in a story and depth in a relationship without miscommunication or people treating each other badly? What if it’s two people trying their best to get close while also wrestling with their own individual shit in very real, understandable ways? What exists at that intersection between me and us? Something interesting, I think.

If that interests you too, you can read that fic on ao3 :)

---

“Mr. Archeron.”

“Marlowe. How’s she looking tonight?”

Two males stood before the door of a long-vacant tavern, sweating slightly in the night air thick and lush as it only was in summer, Velaris bursting with vitality after dark. The cobblestone streets were full of revelers who passed by without a second glance, ignorant that beyond the hidden entrance lay a world where fortunes were won and lost, where the honor of courts rose and fell at the discretion of a female known only in whispers as the Queen of Cards.

A female who just happened to be Cassian’s wife.

“A strong start,” Marlowe said as he ushered Cassian into the candlelit basement, flickering shadows belying the bustling street above. “The High Lord from Autumn has cheek, though.” 

“Yeah, Eris gets like that when he’s losing.”

They shook hands and Cassian made his way down the dim hallway, the sounds of chatter and shuffling and clinking coins drifting toward him. He could hear Eris braying high above the others, Rhys’ smooth voice giving back just as good. When he reached the arched entrance to the playing room, everyone had their backs to him except Nesta, who glanced up from her three-card hand and smiled. 

She always faced the door during games, ready to protect her players’ privacy in case someone got past Marlowe, though it had the unintended effect of giving him a moment to take her in uninterrupted. Her gown was midnight blue tonight, long sleeves in tiers of iridescent silk like a dragonfly’s wings, hair cascading over one shoulder studded with opals that turned fiery in the faelights.

A glittering queen holding court. And damn if Cassian didn’t want to go to his knees before her, still, after all this time.

“Can we get on with it or do I need to send you two to time out?” she asked the still-squabbling High Lords without missing a beat, tossing her cards in and signaling to the silver clad dealer to begin the next round before. She threw in her ante next, silver bracelets chiming at her wrist with the movement.

With some grumblings the players turned to their hands, and Cassian edged along the wall to where Emerie sat at a high table on her own, grazing on the arrayed refreshments and accounting her winnings in a worn ledger. 

“I was up and didn’t want to push my luck,” the female whispered when he nodded in greeting, giving him a sly smile. Cassian smiled back - Emerie always came out on top. He suspected Nesta was subtly losing to her friend on purpose after the female refused to let her fund an expansion of her shop. And he suspected Emerie knew it, too, but both were too proud to say it aloud. She licked the tip of her pencil and made another note. “Plus, it’s fun to watch your mate knock a few High Lords down a peg.”

“Sometimes I wonder if that’s the real game,” he confessed, and Emerie grinned smugly, wings ruffling with delight.

They observed the game in silence for a moment, allowing Cassian time to survey the other players in attendance tonight. There was an endless rotating cast of characters at Nesta’s now-famous monthly games, the invitation so coveted they’d had all manner of bribes delivered to the House of Wind by very confused messengers. Thankfully all gifts were now rerouted to a third-party location, after a lesser lord of Summer sent a dozen peacocks they’d chased about the House for hours.

There were seven of them tonight as usual, including Emerie, all faces he recognized buried in their cards around the half-moon table. Granted, it helped that nearly half the players were his wife, her best friend, and Rhys, whose pile of coin looked so pitifully low Cassian couldn’t help but smirk when he caught his brother’s eye.

“We should raise the blind,” Rhys interjected. “What's the point of playing if you’re eschewing risk?”

It still surprised Cassian sometimes that Rhys kept coming back despite showing no taste for gambling in the past. But he supposed Rhys had always been weirdly competitive with Nesta, and even though they’d buried the hatchet long ago Nesta still loved winning her brother-in-law’s money fair and square. Which she did without fail, hand over fist, with a silent pact between them not to tell Feyre.

Neither of her sisters knew, by design he suspected, and Mor was off in Montesere ‘finding herself’ again, whatever that meant. Azriel had a brief, brilliant run before his competitiveness got the best of him and he was banned for brawling at the table, one of the only standing rules. Emerie and Eris were regulars, and he’d seen the others in attendance before: broad-shouldered Megrin Stonecutter of the Velaris maester’s guild and Nuan of Dawn, who perched cross-legged in her chair, a pair of elaborate spectacles whirring on her round face

Opposite Nesta tonight sat the High Lord of Day, still radiant despite having foregone his usual golden adornments. Helion looked nonplussed by his own losing streak as Cassian watched him toss his cards face down in front of him, leaving only Rhys, Eris, and Nesta still alive in the hand.

“I fold. You all are vicious. Are you not joining us, Cass?”

“And add one more body to the slaughter? No thanks.” He’d never had much interest, content to watch Nesta splatter egos against the wall.

Megrin grunted in agreement and slid her cards to the dealer past the large pile of gold in the center. “I’m out, too. Clearly someone knows something I don’t.”

“It’s yours to call, Eris,” Rhys said breezily. “Unless you’re waiting to ask your father’s ghost for permission.”

Cassian snorted, making eye contact with Rhys again, who shot him a shit-eating grin as Eris covered his mouth with a stiff hand, brow furrowed. 

To everyone’s surprise, Beron Vanserra had been felled two years prior by an ordinary fever. No one in Autumn nor elsewhere could make sense of it - it was as if one day the hands of hel simply reached up and snatched him back into the earth. So a court that had once been destined for a bloody coup passed the crown peacefully, which was a good thing all around, though Rhys loved painting Eris as a cowardly dawdler whose target put himself in an early grave just to end the waiting.

The Autumn lord sneered at the insult, still waffling. “Some of us prefer to think about our actions, Rhysand, instead of barrelling forward with whatever scheme will inflate our self-importance the most. Stealing things from other courts, for example, books, brides -“

Nesta glanced over at Cassian then, crossing and uncrossing her fingers where they lay against her cheek, and he had to stifle the laugh that bubbled forth at the private joke, just for him. It was her signal that sexual tension was present in the room, sometimes to indicate she wanted to leave whatever function they were at, sometimes so they could share a roll of their eyes. In this case he knew she meant the squabbling lords, as many a late night they’d mused that Eris and Rhys could get past their rivalry if they just had sex about it. 

“As much as I enjoy seeing Rhysand’s self-importance punctured,” Nesta drawled when the latter opened his mouth to retort. “You can’t delay your bet with old, petty scores. We’re all rather bored with it. If you’re going to cheat, at least use some imagination.” 

She sipped at her glass of pomegranate juice, a frequent gift of affection from Helion and a nod to the other rule: no alcohol. 

Rhys’ expression flashed briefly with betrayal, but he schooled it quickly, knowing better than to give himself away. But Cassian knew Nesta’s smoky eyes clocked it before they turned to Eris. 

“I remember you once tempting me with an invitation to Autumn, to see how a High Lord plays. Is this what you had in mind?” She gestured to the modest pile of gold in front of him. “I rather think I made the right decision, don’t you?”

Emerie chuckled beside him, and Cassian felt a thrill low in his stomach to see Nesta so self-possessed, lit from within. After everything they’d been through with the Trove, with their families, a part of him wondered if he’d ever see her ferocity again, if the sharp point of that viper’s tongue would smooth over for good. 

She’d become very soft for about a decade after the Blood Rite, and they’d taken long walks through the Illyrian Steppes and the Myrmidons, swam in streams and lakes and the oceans of Summer, watched the bees drift lazily from flower to flower in Elain’s gardens in Day. It was as if she’d needed to come completely to rest before deciding what to do next. And the solitude seemed to give her a sense of clarity, but he’d been glad as fuck to be an exception to that rule, to witness the private puzzlings and support her in finding purpose in her life.

They’d only just returned to Velaris the previous spring, when the threads of family and duty pulled them home at last. Their time away was intimate and lovely, some of the best years of his life, yet Cassian enjoyed seeing Nesta confident out in the world again. The poker game had been the first of many things to draw her out, and he couldn’t wait to see what she’d surprise him with next, his strong, clever, deadly little wife.

Eris grumbled and tossed a few coins in the middle. “Happy now? Or would you prefer to seduce it out of me?”

Cassian watched her swallow the barb, which would’ve sent her into survival mode in the past and now rolled off her with barely a ripple. Leashed his own instincts to leap across the room and tackle Eris to the ground, because Nesta wouldn’t hesitate to kick him out for breaking the rules too, mate or no, and he’d miss his favorite show.

“Your luck doesn’t extend that far tonight,” she said demurely, and Cassian knew the smug prick was too stupid to see her coiling up to strike when the time was right. Nesta won the hand a moment later to groans all around, her Winter flush beating Rhys’ three pixies and Eris’ two pair, nymphs and kelpies.

“I propose a wager," Nesta declared as the next hand was dealt, her voice velvety and inviting. "The victor of the evening wins one favor of their choosing...” Eyes lit up around the table, anticipation deepening. “...from my husband.”

They all turned toward Cassian where he was leaning against the wall with an amused grin now, and he raised an eyebrow at his mate. Her eyes flashed silver where she stared back at him, and he felt her send a soothing wave down the bond, assuring him of her intent. Inviting him into the ruse. Cassian made a show of looking chagrined, shuffling his feet as he looked down.

Rhys was the first to respond, smirking. “I’ll take that bet.” 

Cassian knew he was incensed at the idea of losing, wrongly fancying himself more clever than his sister-in-law. Nesta knew it, too, and that arrogance made him play more recklessly.

“Count me out,” said Helion, winking. “You’re pretty, Cass, but my minister of finance will have my head if I lose any more.”

“Ah, why not?” Nuan flushed, uncomfortable with the attention now drawn her way, and chuckled nervously. “Not sure what use I’d have for you, dear, but who knows what worth it may hold!”

Megrin pursed her lips, sizing him up. “He has a strong enough back I suppose. I’ve been meaning to rearrange my forge.”

“Any favor of my choosing?” Eris mused, and Cassian felt the Autumn lord’s gaze roving over his body and then Nesta’s, possessive and hungry. The years hadn’t changed everything. Nesta answered with nothing but a feline smile.

The next few rounds passed in a blur of bluffs and bold plays. Nesta remained composed even on the hands she lost, an almost bored air to the way she watched the males bluster and crow. Eris' anger grew while Rhys shot daggers with his glare at her every win, turning each hand into an unnecessary battle of wills that made him play sloppy. Nuan ducked out when it became clear the prize wasn’t hers, and Megrin hung on for a while longer, bluffing her way through until her luck ran dry, to Cassian’s relief. 

One by one, Nesta outplayed them, her composure never faltering as she watched her opponents fume, each loss reigniting their fervor to win.

At last the players were down to the final hand, and the air in the hidden basement crackled with anticipation. The dealer laid down the community cards as bets went around: a wyvern, a lord, a lady, and a cave troll. Each still in signaled for new cards, Nesta tapping once against the table, her face revealing nothing. Cassian could feel his chest tighten as they sized each other up before Rhys pushed all his chips into the pot with a confident smirk.

"All in."

Unfazed, Nesta called his bet, gesturing idly at her pile for the dealer to sweep into the center with his crook. That left only Eris to decide his own fate, as well as Cassian’s.

He puzzled for a long while with his head in his hands before he finally spoke, low and deliberate. "I’ll call."

Coins cascaded into the center, a shower of gold. Then the final card was revealed—another lady. All coins in the center, it felt like everyone held their breath as the three remaining players revealed their hands. 

Rhys set down two lords, the grin spreading across his face triumphant and sure, the poor bastard. Eris only clucked his tongue and revealed his full house, ladies full of wyverns, smug despite achieving it on the last draw.

But Cassian knew it wasn’t over yet. He turned to where his wife was toying with the edge of her hand, and he’d seen that pose too many times not to recognize it at once: You Have Just Royally Fucked Yourself. Silver rolled over Nesta’s eyes, and with prim efficiency she laid down the three remaining trolls in the deck, one after another.

The room erupted, Eris upending his chair as he leapt to his feet, Rhys shouting about cheating and Helion tipping his head back to let loose a peal of laughter soon joined by Emerie and Nuan’s, by Megrin’s groan. Cassian couldn’t help the dopey grin that spread across his face, how at home Nesta looked in the sea of chaos when she winked at him, calmly piling her coins into neat stacks.

Once everyone had regained their heads they all passed a lovely hour in conversation, the air hazy from the cigarettes Nesta usually smoked with Lucien at their gossip sessions disguised as afternoon tea. Rhys departed first, claiming a return to his fatherly duties, though they all knew he was off to beg Feyre’s sympathies while he licked his wounds for reasons he’d never confess. Emerie left with a tight hug and a promise to have them up to Windhaven soon to see her new expansion, and Eris gave Nesta a begrudging bow before Helion swooped in and kissed her on the cheek. He did the same to Cassian, and they heard his warm voice echoing down the corridor, giving Eris shit all the way up the stairs.

Alone now, Cassian came up behind where Nesta was tucking a handful of coins in a pouch for Marlowe, looped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck. She batted at him but he felt her lean backwards all the same, cracking the door to that soft place within, that only her loved ones were allowed to enter. He knew she liked the affection, even if part of her still hated to admit it, if she only wanted it when it was just them.

“Wicked woman,” he teased, and he felt her smile against his cheek, the press of her nails into his forearm. “Were you seriously going to let Eris have his way with me?”

Nesta turned in his arms and he took her in close up for the first time all day, having left her snoring softly that morning when he departed for Windhaven. He warmed to see her face still relaxed and open, the ease in her posture. 

“If he won, sure.”

Cassian snorted. “I don’t know if that’s a testament to your confidence or your willingness to torture me.”

The candlelight flickered silver around them for a moment and he drew her close once more, breathing deep the vanilla and jasmine scent of her hair, the lingering smokiness. Nesta linked her hands behind his back and squeezed him hard, impatient.

“Can’t it be both? Now take me home, Lady Death is tired.”

“Is that your favor for winning, sweetheart?”

“No,” she said, eyes dancing and devious when he pulled back. “I’ve much bigger plans for you.”

And oh, she did.

They ended the night in Cassian’s favorite way, with him sprawled atop her, head pillowed on her chest, her long fingers working through the snarls in his hair he’d earned in their pleasure. The House dimmed the lights in the bedchamber that was once his, the door now warded to both their hands. Hands that bore twin golden rings and tattoos of an eight-pointed star, tokens of their promises, both his and hers.

“Goodnight, I love you.”

Nesta’s voice was thick and fuzzy, and he felt a quiet contentment on her end of the bond. It was rare for her to inhabit it in public as much as she had tonight, and Cassian remembered when her end of the bridge between them had been locked tight, impenetrable. He’d made a fool of himself trying to break through early in their love, using brute force to smash past her defenses, leaving her exposed. 

But now he knew the secret that should’ve been obvious, that he only had to knock.

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

She smiled with her eyes closed and pursed her lips, kissing the air before sleep dragged her under.

[sing-me-under]

Women of the DSMP (casual, late era)

I was also working on a sketch for Alyssa, but I think I want to work on her design more before doing anything. She’s more relevant in my HJSMP AU than the canon dsmp, so I do want to work on her. Once that’s done, I think I’ll post her with Sally and Girl Dream.

Btw, Niki does still have an argyle pattern on her sweater, but I didn’t feel like drawing it. A similar sentiment can be had about Puffy’s rainbow scarves and gold accessories.

[roseworth]

i bring a sort of “you only hate this character because she’s a woman” vibe that misogynists really don’t like

[problemswithbooks]

BNHA Ch. 429

So, I guess Toga is dead, and people are losing it.

I get why people liked her--she was actually queer, being pan/bisexual. She was representation for them and that's rare in shonen manga. But here's the thing--she was bad representation at best and insulting at worst. Nor do I think she was made queer because Hori really wanted to represent a queer girl. Himiko was always the author's poorly hidden fetish--she just was. She liked girls as much as boys because Hori wanted to draw a girl touching sexually on another girl. You can see this in how he draws her and Ochako in solo pics together.

I mean, people seem to understand this when it comes to Momo and her outfit being overly sexual or that both Himiko and Hagakure's Quirks either leave them naked or they have to be naked to use them. These are excuses to draw girls in a sexual manner. Himiko being into other girls is the same thing and that's the kindest interpretation.

Given how Himiko acts and her Quirk being heavily coded sexual desire, and therefore her use of it against someone unwilling being sexual assault, it could just being playing into harmful stereotypes of predatory gays.

As a queer person myself I just found Toga insulting. She was designed to be overly sexual and give the male author a female character that he could draw being suggestive with his other female characters. When he did flesh out her character, her backstory was eventually the trope/fear of straight people, that gay people will be so overcome with their lust that they end up sexually assaulting them.

In the end Ochako accepts this part of Toga and says she'll giver her blood forever, but as much as a lot of readers took that that as some deep lesbian confession, for me it really fell flat. Hori never really gave any of the main kids time to actually learn about their villain or show how that changed their minds toward them. Shoto only works because Touya is his brother (even though he admits he barely remembers him). But Ochako goes from not thinking of Toga at all pre-first war, to one thought about her during her speech, to suddenly caring about her so much she--given how Toga's quirk is coded, is willing to essentially fulfill Toga's kink for the rest of their lives.

It's weird and it comes out of nowhere. It's made even stranger because Toga doesn't actually change or show remorse for anything she did, which included personally hunting and murdering people before she joined the LOV. None of the death and destruction she is also partially responsible for is brought up either, something that Ochako was rightfully upset about during the first war when less people and property had been destroyed. Ochako just accepts everything about her suddenly and her past serious crimes are forgotten so they can cuddle and cry.

Am I shocked Toga died--a little. I didn't think Hori would have the guts to kill off a young girl character, especially one that he clearly got a lot of joy drawing in sexy poses. But at the same time, once he killed off Shigaraki and ended Touya's story with his slow death, I'm not surprised he went the same route with Toga.

This isn't Naruto--Hori isn't really kind to characters that do something wrong, especially if they don't try and change. Enji, Bakugo, Hawks, and Aoyama all sort of got punished for what they did. Enji is the worst off, being permanently crippled, missing an arm and burned everywhere. Bakugo's hand is damaged, his heart weaker, plus he feels bad that Izuku lost his Quirk so they can't compete the same way he wanted them to. Aoyama, despite doing way less wrong and even helping his class during the forest raid, still leaves school because he doesn't feel he earned being there yet. Hawks lost his Quirk and even though him running the HPSC could be seen as good for him, Hawks always wanted a break, but now he has one of the most time consuming and stressful jobs out there.

So, if this is what characters who actively did good things and even changed and fought to be better get, what would characters who never changed and never did anything positive for anyone but their friends/themselves get?

Before the last Arc started, when so many people said the LoV were 100% going to be redeemed I had doubts and always thought it wouldn't make sense with how the story presented redemption or treated other non-LoV villains in the past. That if the main LoV did get some happy ending where they were bffs with the main cast it would clash with how other characters had been treated.

That doesn't mean that I think how Shigaraki, Toga, and Touya ended up in the manga was well done. I think their endings fit far better then a last minute redemption would have, but at the same time you can feel how rushed everything has been since the end of the first war arc. Hori was done with this story months if not years ago, yet he was contractually obligated to finish it. Because of that I think he left out as much as possible. As much as I think he's written some pretty obsessive stuff, particularly towards women, I can't really fully blame him cutting corners or the story being shit at the end.

We know Manga authors, particularly those that work with Jump are treated like shit. That they suffer incredibly long hours at times not even getting to go home for days. We've gotten messages for Hori saying he's sick quite a few times. On top of that, weekly story telling is not a great way to tell a cohesive narrative. Ideas probably change week to week or at least month to month and you can't go back and change the last chapter no matter how much you need or want to. Then you remember he also gave a lot of ideas to the people who made the movies, which would also change his plans for how he wanted the main story to go.

The story is bad--it has been for a while, but I think a lot of people put their hopes on their favorite characters getting a happy ending, even when there were signs that probably wasn't going to be the case. I know how much it sucks when a character you love gets a shitty ending (Stain was my fav, but he got an absolute dogshit ending) but at least, knowing what I know about the industry I can't really blame Hori the way I see some other people doing. Criticize it, sure, but saying Hori hates his readers or is horrible writer isn't true. BNHA was popular for a reason--he's great with characters and the beginning of the story had some great pacing. We'll never know, but I wouldn't be surprised if BNHA could have been amazing if Hori had been treated better and the story hadn't needed a chapter every week.

If anything BNHA has taught me how much a story suffers when authors/artists are treated like crap and forced to work past burnout.

[welcometogrouchland]

Babygirl I can concieve of stephcass dynamics you couldn't even imagine (arospec Cass not understanding why "probably bi but has a job so she doesn't have time to think about that" Steph apparently needs a man (she doesn't, it would just be nice) and doesn't want to platonically settle down with cass in their old age)

[rxttenfish]

Asking because I’m extremely curious about this, how did MonProm’s writing get different over time? I remember you saying that the lore and characters feel different, and that it's missing sincere character interactions, too. I know almost nothing about the lore and I’ve only seen a few people mention the characters, so I’d be interested in a rundown of what aspects you think got worse in the series

I wouldn’t mind a very long response since I’m not that active in the fandom, I need to catch up on what happened

sorry for taking so long to answer this! i kinda waffled on it for a long bit, mainly because i started doubting myself again, and whether or not this was me simply overreacting or being tinted by nostalgia or simply being extremely picky and choosy in what i like (the last of which is true, i seldom get into fandoms at all for this reason and stay away from most popular media, but i wasn't sure if it applied here). i've posted about it already, but i'm in the middle of a psychotic episode where i can't feel a lot of pleasure to begin with + most things i do experience ending up solidly in the "very bad" category, so as you can imagine, i really didn't want to mislead and check that i was actually in objective reality.

as it is, this is also when a lot more screenshots started to be posted in the monster prom tag, and that helped me bridge the gap back into returning to the games themselves and feel like i was making a more accurate judgement. if you're one of those people who have been posting screenshots, i sincerely thank you, and i appreciated seeing you in the tag greatly.

for those not in the know — i've been in the monster prom fandom since it first released, prior to even the first additional ending to be added (the "Punch the sun" ending, and i recall the minor fandom drama that happened at that time due to it). my impression of monster prom is very much influenced by this, as what got me into the first game was the fact that the characters genuinely seemed to care for each other and were friends with each other (not merely tolerating each other's presences nor dressing it up, they sincerely thought of each other as friends and were open about that fact), on top of the wide variety of small details and statements that, if taken at face value, could create compounding complexity in the lives of each and every character and had wider implications for their lives.

no, they were not necessarily explored nor even necessarily "real", with so many conflicting events and statements, but i liked this too, because it meant a wider flexibility in what you could imagine, helping to create a more tailored experience for everyone who thought about these characters. this was what i liked about the early fandom too. what was baseline "canon" was so vague and minimal that you could have wildly different interpretations of the same characters' histories and relationships with each other. you would have radically different perspectives on what the world itself looked like, what it was like, that there wasn't really any wrong answers so long as their personalities remained the same. this is where you got the old headcanon of polly and liam being childhood friends who knew each other as humans, or that the world of monster prom was post-apocalypse where humanity itself had gone extinct or only existed in tiny pockets, or my personal headcanon that both monster and human society existed right next to each other and had minimal crossover for petty cultural reasons. this was also prior zoe-as-ro, and there were wildly different interpretations of zoe's personality, with most going for a far more disquieting creepy-cute than the deep nerd we got.

this is why you get stuff like the timeloop theory, where everyone is repeating the same weeks leading up to prom over and over, and are perhaps vaguely aware of it but broadly unconcerned. this is also why it felt like the joke that, the characters were still in high school but were all fully legal adults with most in their 20's, best landed, because it was absurd and strange and didn't quite make sense, but the world itself was inherently absurd and semi-malleable to begin with. realistically, i felt like everyone understood it was making fun of the trope of having adults play teenagers in american sitcoms and wildly casting outside the age range, but for more in-universe explanations it wasn't any different from the way that you would have a large, dramatic ending in which everything changed, but then you'd restart and everyone would be right back at the beginning with nothing different, or even having conflicting events in the same run. it was a dream-logic that fit with the tropes and, thus, diagetically made sense.

to be clear, i don't mind canon having a set, well, canon on which it refers back to itself. i don't mind expanding that or including more things which are set in stone. but there was a perceivable shift in how the games handled this over time, becoming a lot more... bitter, it felt, towards all of these different branching ideas and concepts that, yeah, the people making them knew wouldn't necessarily be "canon" because "canon" already liked to contradict itself so much. most people weren't even sold on any one idea, and there was a much greater sense of enjoying and appreciating all the varying ideas people would come up with even if you personally didn't share them. making the characters be out of character was the real crime, because then it didn't diagetically make sense in the same way, didn't wholly fit.

(again, this is not to say fanon didn't happen and characters weren't smoothed down into a simplified personality that fit these varying fan-interpretations instead of the game itself. certainly damien love/lust was just as bad as it had ever been, and everyone loved to mangle his character into a more stereotypical "bad boy with a heart of hold" all the time. but it certainly felt less set-in-stone about it than it does now, with any deviation from the norm being considered strange and odd and even broadly shunned from the wider fandom.)

all of this is setup for establishing what the writing, lore, and characters felt like in the earlier days. the characters were the strongest part, with their relationships to each other being equally as important. the lore played it fast and loose and was far less interested in setting anything in concrete because that wasn't the important part. the lore wasn't the important part, which was what made it all the more intoxicating to think about, all the more fun to play with.

montrip is easily the biggest offender when it comes to setting everything in all-or-nothing terms and demanding absolutism from the world. broadly i blame the hitchhiker conversations for the worst of it, but i think ultimately the way they handled the entire premise of the game is where this problem stems from. it's not really an exploration in the same sense that you might explore the first game, discovering different perspectives and different people with different relationships to each other. it's an exploration in the sense of a sequel that over-explains the monster, that takes the most boring option out of all those that were possible and floating around and settles on something that was blatant, obvious, typically rejected not because of how novel it is but how trite and par for the course it is in the rest of the genre.

yeah, okay. humans know nothing about monsters and there's a "monster dimension" that exists separately from the human dimension. there's no crossover between the two of them. of course there's a big grand-scale fight between the eldritch powers that zoe used to be a part of, from which not only are slayers the main organization against them, but also the merkingdom has some horse in this race too. it's an urge to make things so universal in explaining them, in revealing connecting threads which unite everything that's ever happened in here, that makes the worldbuilding and lore immediately much more boring than it ever was before.

and it didn't have to be this way! nothing in the first game contradicts any of this too explicitly (see the above, the first game loves to contradict itself), and i would even be happy if this was basically canon but never stated or confirmed to be the big overarching everything going on underneath it all. i believe you should probably know these things about any world that you create and have them in the back of your mind. the difference is that you can know these things and keep them in mind, even focusing on things where its very relevant, and still not reveal them. this is why you have lore bibles, after all. every horror writer knows exactly how their monster works and the full underlying reason for everything that happens, but that doesn't mean the audience will see it or possess this same information too, and leaving it intentionally obscure will make far better stories.

which, this is bad enough, but it wouldn't be the breaking point for me if this was all there was.

but the worst thing of all has to be the slow decay of the very same characters that sold me on this world, this lore, this game in the first place. monster prom is nothing without the characters in it. it's a dating sim, it has nothing but characters to get you to play, and liking these characters are the entire reason anyone would pick up monster prom in the first place.

and the first game pulls this off extremely well. it's all in the tagline: be your worst self. they are, indeed, all terrible people. yes, even that character that you just thought of right now. they all have points in the game where they commit atrocities, where they kill or hurt people, where they do inexcusable things that could not be ignored in a more serious setting.

but that's the point. i think there's something very powerful in creating a character who not only do you love and love their personality and the way they interact with the world, but who also are inapologetically terrible, and to have the humor and the charisma be so good that you don't get bogged down in the "this is awful". likewise, it never feels the urge to really go out of its way to justify what's going on. this is not to say theres no discussion of if someone "deserved it", but usually there's still the sense that the joke is on them, that this is still an extreme reaction specifically for comedy and not necessarily something that can be justified. you can have damien set leonard on fire and have it feel earned, without prompting the needed reaction of what it's actually like to watch someone burn to death.

this is what sets the prank masterz ending apart from the rest of the game, and really establishes it as the first real "bad ending". because nothing that you do or happens in the prank masterz ending is any different from anything else that happens in any other run. you summon evil beings from other dimensions as a throwaway gag on how visiting one location raises your stats. you kill other people and damn them to terrible fates. you watch as body horror happens. the only difference is that, in the prank masterz ending, the laugh track doesn't play.

the rest of the game and the writing echoes this philosophy, this careful interplay of tropes that keeps everything tongue in cheek and yet sincere enough to make sure emotional beats still land when they're needed. the characters feel true to themselves and their own emotions, even when the world is extreme and excessive, when everything else runs on comedy logic.

this is also what i noticed failing first as time went on.

like i said, fanon has always existed and there's always been very specific ideas as to what characters are like in the same way fanon always flattens down characters into the same tropes over and over. scott is stupid and innocent and doesn't know what sex is. damien is violent and hot and too cool for anyone else. miranda is the idiot girl character. repeat over and over and over until you get sick of it.

but it's been an issue as time has crept on that canon has started to approach fanon and began to merge with it. now, scott is so innocent that he can't even curse. polly starts being mean to her friends and saying things that would be very hurtful to hear. the merkingdom isn't really super evil and fucked up, it's just miranda that's like that. they become simpler, easier to digest, streamlined for social media posts and mass-sharing. they become less and less subversions of existing tropes and moreso just another example of them, something else to add to the collection, not their own individual stories.

even further from this, what more complex traits they had are now stated and not shown. polly is stated to be smart and clever in a way that her party girl persona doesn't imply and to be sincerely rather down to earth with the people she cares about, but we seldom ever see this anymore unless its the game specifically trying to make a point about it, in which case it won't let her do anything that implies cleverness and moreso will just outline it in the narration. vera is stated to care for people in a very genuine and heartfelt way, but seldom will get a chance to do so, and every opportunity for her to do so to their faces is missed while she will just outright state it later. it does not feel consistent, it does not feel like any of these are intended reads of their actions. it feels like the devs have something they want to do but no idea on how to actually do so. and forget it if you want these traits to manifest in small ways that show up in unrelated moments and scenes.

the dialogue becomes harder and harder to tell between each speaker, if you are just looking at what's said and not at the pictures attached to it. the characters' distinct voices have been eroded away, so that they speak more and more like each other, relaying the same terms and ideas in the same words. perspective becomes a suggestion, instead of a must.

this is something that started back in monster camp too, as all of the endings in that game felt ultimately the same as every other ending. it's very hard to place or define the full reason why, why there feels like there's no emotional stakes nor investment, why everything feels moreso like selecting different coats of paint and trying to find all the different ending pictures rather than being interested in exploring the characters as characters.

stranger yet, the series that started with the tagline of "be your worst self" has experienced a kind of... softening, for lack of a better word? what i mentioned about being able to handle the balance between terrible people who do terrible things and the light tone of the game starts to change, as abruptly the same characters who were down with violent murder in the first game start to lose their nerve, acting more and more on more typical morality. it's one of those things that feels like it's starting to damage the tone, as abruptly it's not as absurd as it used to be, demands less suspension of disbelief which could buffer and support the rest of the setting on it. there's even a part in one of the endings in montrip which involves current-polly and current-scott looking back on their monprom selves and reacting in horror at how violent and careless their pranks are, in a way that fundamentally felt like it was undercutting and disparaging all the things that felt fun and made monprom what it was.

which is odd, really, because more and more i feel like the characters in these games like each other less and less. the friendships and genuine enjoyment of each others company that brought me to this game in the first place has gone. now they don't mention each other as much, don't care for each other's feelings and reactions as much, aren't as willing to support each other. they are more and more found on their own, relied on their own, seem to seek out contact and interaction with their own friends less and less. it feels like they're all separating out into their own worlds, but also feels like they wouldn't willingly want to interact with each other if they weren't already forced together by some other outside contrivance.

if anything, i'd compare it to every other dating sim out there, where you, the player, are the most important person in these characters' lives, and they only feel ambivalent or antagonistic towards every other character. which, again, is not why i picked up monster prom or why i liked it so much in the first place.

and it's because of this that it feels like the current state of the series has to focus on its increasingly weak worldbuilding and lore, trying to form a more serious foundation without character relationships being so tightly bound together, without the characters themselves being more developed and rich, without an aspect of absurd humor to rely on.

more and more i've noticed monprom has to rely on referencing other series to make itself funny and create humor, which, again, it's always done. it was just easier to ignore back then, if you didn't know what was being referenced, because there was always more going on in the exact same scene to bolster it and give context clues as to the setup and punchline at play. it feels like the current games are much more dependent on you knowing pop culture references in order to have any fun with it, and i'm someone who, again, is very picky in what i like or what i'll seek out. i'm not interested in a stream of references about other things that i would much rather be doing than playing through a game that feels like it hates that i like it at all, when i could, again, just be engaging with the thing that takes itself seriously and knows what it wants.

[blackashbluephoenix]

I'm working on my season 5a/6 Marvey AU today and it took me an embarassing amount of time to realize that Rachel called her Dad first when Mike was arrested (before even telling Harvey) because her first impulse was to find a way to force Mike to turn on Harvey. The worst night of his life and she sics her angry father (who will now hate Mike forever) on him to manipulate him into betraying the one person he might love more than her.

She didn't just think about it for a second like she admits to Mike when they fight, it was her main goal from minute one. She only backs off when Mike freaks out when she vocalizes it. It's like she only realizes in that moment that he may actually leave her if she tries to push the issue.

I get that she resents how close Mike and Harvey are and she feels like Harvey put Mike in this position. But Mike's just as guilty as Harvey is, and she wouldn't have given Mike the time of day if Harvey hadn't brought him in. He's the only reason she has Mike at all, and her first impulse is to throw him under the bus regardless of what Mike wants.

It just makes Rachel's entire character feel icky. Like I know Gibbs tries to get her to make a deal to go against Harvey later in the season but the fact that it's literally her first impulse without Gibbs even making the offer is just... ick.

[dairine-bonnet]

On Dantooine or Coruscant, when Revan is a kid:

Kreia: I will teach you everything...

Revan: How not to be betrayed by your own friend and student?!

Kreia: ...In fact, this is not included in the curriculum...

Many years later...

Jedi Exile: I don't trust anybody!

Kreia: Then you are learning.

[ronanceisintheair]

I find it interesting when people say they like Nancy except when she's a girlfriend. Interesting because more often then not people are just upset her top priority isn't a guy or that she won't bend over backwards for a guy(usually steve). It's not actually sn analysis of her character or an understanding of her and what role that plays.

But I think Nancy is one of those characters where you can see her growth/change/development through her romantic relationships with Steve and then with Jonathan. Like we didn't get Jonathan's whole spiel about her conforming and living the "perfect life" for no reason. We didn't get her talking about how Ted and Karen are pretty much in a false, society pleasing, relationship for no reason.

The thing is Nancy is fighting those things. She is navigating and learning, through trial and error and mistakes(we learn from mistakes) that she doesn't have to condemn herself to that fate that she's known probably all along that she didn't want. Just hadn't fully realized she could have.

[notnights]

Once saw a post from someone whining about when Ragatha isn’t drawn with curves and it disappointingly had a lot of traction and fans agreeing and every now and then I think about it and am like What

It’s ok to let a female character be flat. It’s ok to like a female character with a flat ass even lol.

People will complain about non-diverse body types when it comes to female characters but then turn around and do shit like that with her when given non-conventional designs.

Pomni’s shoulders are wider than her hips. Ragatha is as flat as a board. Gangle. It’s okay to still like them like this god.

Let female characters be cartoony. Let them be proportionally funny.

[littencloud9]

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