#but it's also why i have trouble interacting with people my age

[lesbianseaweed]

me remembering that I was the first baby in my daycare class to learn how to talk and would come home really sad and tell my mom that "I talk to the other kids but they don't talk to me😢"

[wheneclipsefalls]

Little Gift- Tremble

Pairing: Soft Dark Neteyam x Fem Human Reader

Little Gift Masterlist

Beautiful adult Neteyam pic by @cinetrix2

Summary: This is your last chance to run.

Warnings: aged up Neteyam, NSFW minors do not interact, dark Neteyam, NONCON/DUBCON, spanking, dirty talk, punishment, size difference, etc.

A/N: This one took a little longer than intended with all the life stuff going on, but yay it's here. Also, migt have gotten a little carried away with this part.

The outpost feels like a relic of a different time. One that you have only heard of in stories, but now seeing those worn down bunk beds and the corner of a room that Spider calls his own, it doesn’t feel as glorious. The worst part, however, is how naked you feel around other humans. It’s only a slight comfort that Spider is wearing Na’vi apparel too. 

“Oh and yeah and this is a spear I made in Awalatuu.” Spider says. “But maybe let’s move it out of the way.” He gives an awkward chuckle but it’s obvious that his only concern is you suddenly deciding to use it against him. 

Your arrival at the outpost had been anything but graceful. In hindsight you would have preferred to meet these people face to face instead of over Neteyam’s shoulder. 

“If you want we can uh….watch a movie. Oh yeah I bet I could swipe Norm’s Star Wars collection.” 

You don’t return the smile he gives you, too busy awkwardly sitting on his bed while pouting. You never thought it would feel strange to be back in a place like this but after being around the Na’vi for the past week, the outpost feels like walking into a rundown dollhouse. Everything is your size and nothing is as beautifully crafted as Neteyam’s kelku. 

The awkward silence is slightly painful but you can’t find it within yourself to feel bad for Spider. Not when he hasn’t shown even a morsel of sympathy for your situation. Your own kind and not even they find it important to get you out of here. Not that they could anyways. No doubt Neteyam would view such actions as a betrayal. 

“He wouldn’t let you come along, huh?” You finally ask. 

Spider stops digging through the worn down hard drives. 

“Who?” 

“Neteyam. Didn’t want you coming to see the RDA off either?” 

Spider scoffs at the, leaving the tech behind to cross the small room. 

“I wouldn’t say that. I’m not the one he’s worried about getting into trouble.” 

Spider may not have heightened senses like the Na’vi but you worry that he sees the way your hands ball around the thin blankets.

“So Lo’ak handed the role of babysitter off to you somehow.” You lean back against the cold wall, trying to appear bored by the conversation. 

“Just for today. He was clear that I would only be a substitute.” 

Your brows furrow at that. Maybe Lo’ak doesn’t mind watching over you as much as he lets on. Then again Lo’ak never fails to find your company amusing, and for all the wrong reasons. Some days you wonder if Neteyam would really be cross with you for slapping his brother across the face. Maybe if you batted your lashes and played it off as self defense….

“Well I’m sorry you can’t be there.” 

It’s Spider’s turn to look confused. 

“Why?” 

“Colonel Quaritch is your dad, isn’t he?” 

“That asshole is nothing close to a father.” Spider’s jaw clenches, posturing already shifting to loom over you. He may be human but his six foot frame of striped muscle greatly outweighs your own. 

“Oh trust me, I know. Quaritch has been nothing but a tyrant my entire life. I honestly don’t know how he managed to get back into General Ardmore’s good graces after half the stunts he has pulled. That’s why I was excited for today. Finally see that bastard put in his place.” Spider watches you closely. In some ways it feels like all he is missing he ears and tail of a Na’vi.

“Thought maybe you would want to see that too.” 

You know a good deal about Spider Soccoro. He is a story that is often shared among the recombinants but never in Quaritch’s presence. Many tales have been told of the feral stripped boy that was more trouble than worth. You wonder if the stories would have been different if he hadn’t chosen the Sullys in the end. Still, even with their biased filters you know that they put Spider through hell. 

Kidnapping is traumatic enough without having to watch islands burn and friends cry for justice. 

“I don’t care what happens to that bastard.” Spider huffs before promptly turning around and fishing through the hard drives once more. You’ve killed the already strained mood. 

“Well then you’re a better person than me. Good for you.” Spider doesn’t answer but you can tell he is listening. 

A bitter laugh escapes you. “Hell, I’ve only had to put up with him from a distance and I would ring his neck myself if given the chance.” 

Spider’s fingers fiddle with a blue hard drive, eyes staring down thoughtfully. 

“But I guess I should trust Neteyam to give him what he deserves. Watch that monster tuck his tail and accept his failure for what it is.”  It’s the one cause you consider Neteyam and yourself on the same side of. 

Leaning back, you prop your feet up onto the creaky mattress. 

“Yeah.” He says shortly. 

“Ugh don’t get me started on Lyle though-”

“What are you trying to do?” Spider springs to his feet, glaring daggers down at you. 

“What do-”

“Do you think I’m really that stupid? Neteyam told me you would do this. Trying to spin a story that would allow you to escape.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat. You’re startled by the outburst to say the least but at this point there is nothing to lose. This man you only met fifteen minutes ago is the difference between spending the rest of your days here and returning back to Earth. Neteyam’s punishments are far from being enough to deter you from taking this chance. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t trying to-”

“Would it kill you to just stay out of trouble for this one day? For my sake?” The look he gives you is anything but tender in comparison to his words. 

The bitter taste of impending failure is already settling in. You can already feel the immense weight of this dread and it springs you into action. This can’t be the end. 

It won’t be. 

“Can you really blame me though? For wanting to say goodbye to everything and everyone I have ever known?” 

Spider goes quiet, hazel eyes suddenly avoiding your own gaze. 

“Believe whatever you want but the fact is this day will never repeat. This is literal history and…” You voice quivers, blunt teeth sinking into your bottom lip in restraint. The last barrier to holding the words back. “The last glimpse at my old life.” 

You don’t allow the gravity of those whispered words to plant themselves. This is all a ruse after all. Just enough sadness to get Spider to cooperate and yet saying it out loud feels like tying an anchor to your ankle. Truly realizing how stuck you may be from here on out. 

Spider doesn’t say anything for a long while. Neither of you look at each other, letting the silence sizzle between you. 

And then finally….

“We have to be quick.”

“And no touching anything. I mean it, shit out here can be extremely poisonous.” Spider rattles on, listing yet another rule to follow as the two of you venture through the thick terrain. You roll your eyes. You may not be a match for the creatures of Pandora physically but you’ve studied enough to understand what to stay away from.

“We’re there for five minutes tops, got it?” Spider says as he pushes a hanging branch out of your path. 

“Yes sir.” You salute him playfully. Now that you are less than a mile away from Bridgehead a certain giddiness begins to take over. It swirls together with your nerves and apprehension but it doesn’t deter you. This is the closest you have been to freedom in a week. 

Eywa’s mightiest creatures could not keep you from your goal. 

Years down the road when you wake up from kyro this will all be some awful dream that embeds itself into your revenge arch. Starting with Miles Quaritch of course. 

“I’m being serious. Neteyam will kill me if he sees you out here. I’m sticking my neck out for you.” 

“It will be worth it.” You say simply, a skip in your step when you recognize the familiar path that leads back to Bridgehead. This the same one you had carved deeper with every trip you had taken to your oasis. Looking back there is nothing more you regret but the sight of it still makes you smile. 

Spider never stops his stern rambling. Despite the fact that he is built like a Greek God, his speeches do little to intimidate you. Not when you’re used to nine feet of solid muscle and sharp canines. 

There is a bank that overhangs Bridgehead. A spot that Spider deems the perfect lookout for the two of you. You consider trying to convince him to get the two of you closer. After all, what good is a farewell that can’t be heard? Truth is, there really aren’t many people you would bother trying to say goodbye to. Jeremy moved on from you months ago, you have very little friends outside of that and what little you did have can be nothing but traitors by letting you get offered up without complaint. 

It feels like a risky move, however. Spider is sure to catch wind of your deception at the first hints of you disobeying.

“Here,” Spider mutters, suddenly pulling your arm so you stand directly in front of him. This leaves you sandwiched between the cliff’s edge and Spider’s tall frame. 

“Hey!” You snip at him, ripping your arm from his hold. 

“This way I can keep a close eye on you.” He smirks, hands resting confidently on his hips because he knows as well as you that his physical prowess greatly outweighs your own. It’s clear his trust is far from being earned. 

“Well do you have to breathe down my neck? Christ! I could use some space.” 

“No chance.” Spider responds shortly but his eyes are already scanning the crowd of RDA members below. 

“Neteyam doesn’t really take kindly to others sniffing around me.” 

You hate to play that card but it seems to be the only one you have in your deck and if you have any chance of getting out of here, Spider can’t be pressed up against you. A harsh glare is thrown down at you but with knitted brows and a fierce frown, the male takes a few steps back. It isn’t much, surely his presence will still be your first obstacle, but it’s a start. 

Every minute that passes by feels like torture. You watch as palettes of heavy equipment and artillery are rolled along the concrete with Na’vi supervising. Each one packed away is a signal of passing time, another stream of sand that falls through your hourglass of opportunity. The real nerves, however, kick in when the line of RDA members are escorted onto the ship. 

How long is it going to take them to load everyone?

How long until your hopes are dashed?

You spot Neteyam taking his place at the head. He is dressed up in his traditional Olo’eyktan gear completely with a feathered mantle and oval forehead jewelry, but this time he holds a gun. He holds it with confidence, finger strategically placed over the barrel and ready to strike at a moment’s notice. His golden eyes spark today like fire. Even from your lookout spot from above, you can feel that darting heat. 

You pray that they never fall on you again. 

Spider shifts over your shoulder suddenly, blonde dreads ticking your neck. You scramble out of his space but instead of jerking you into place as you expect, he takes your spot at the front. Brows knitting together, you watch him carefully as he crawls forward. 

Finally you spot what has captured his undivided attention. 

Colonel Miles Quaritch sternly leads his band of mutants through the crowd. They tower so high over the rest of the Sky People the sight is almost comedic. However, Spider is doing anything but laughing. His mask fogs up as he watches the scene with intensity. 

It’s like he is dead to the world, eyes trained on the man that has been anything but a father to him. 

You expect him to cheer, snarl, anything that shouts of victory. It was promises of seeing karma after all that had bought you this outing but Spider is silent and still. And then there is something else that flashes over his demeanor, a pang of emotion that is hard for you to place. 

Pain?

Hatred? 

Guilt? 

This swirl of tangled feelings is confusing.

Perhaps there is still so much more to learn about Spider Socorro. 

Regardless, this is your chance and you plan to take it. Tension bleeding into the moment you watch Spider diligently while beginning to back away. It feels as if the world’s ambience has been muffled into background noise and the only sound breaking through is the obnoxious puff of each breath through your mask. Neteyam hadn’t given you the serum shot this morning, assuming you would be spending the whole day in the outpost. Now, however, you wish he had. 

Spider is so enveloped in the moment, however, that he gives no recognition of the sound or even branch you clumsily snap when backing down from the cliff’s edge. 

There is no telling how long this trance will last or at what point you will be out of ear shot so you risk it all. 

Bare feet tingling in protest, you race across the forest floor. There’s no sign of an easy and stealthy way down into Bridgehead. Going back down your normal path would risk Spider spotting you race by. That’s not an option but neither is falling to your death. On the east side the cliff shallows out into a grassy hill. If you’re lucky enough you might just be able to creep down it and remain hidden beneath the heavy greenery. 

Upon reaching it, however, you step on loose dirt and the world rapidly spins around you. With neither a hint of grace or stealth you clumsily roll down the hill. Your muscles ache by the time you clunk to the bottom and you’re sure there are other injuries to be found. Adrenaline dulling the pain and panic, you dart to hide in the nearest bush instantly. 

The scene is so much louder now that you are up close. Heavy trucks make blaring beeping sounds while reversing and Na’vi freely let out loose cries of victory and foreign threats. The commotion is just enough to have your presence remain undetected. 

You don’t bank on that lasting for long though.

Your scanty traditional Na’vi attire is sure to draw attention. You need different clothes and you need it fast. Scaling around the outskirts of the chaos, you miraculously manage to make it to that familiar run down door. Sector two-your building. 

Paranoia constantly scraping at your attention, you barely let the room equalize before ripping your mask off. These hallways feel so different than you remember them. Perhaps it is the feel of the metal floors beneath bare feet or the lacking furniture and crowd. It sends a chill up your spine as you sprint towards your room. 

How much time do you have?

They can’t have loaded more than half of the crew by now.

And yet, the sight of deserted halls makes your feet slap against the floor faster. 

Get dressed. Immerse yourself in the crowd. Hide until take off is through and then find a kyro capsule.

You mentally check through this list. 

Piece of cake. 

Maybe saying it out loud would make it sound less like a fool’s hope. 

Fuck it. The odds don’t matter and neither do your nerves. This is a necessity, pure survival and that will be enough to keep you going. It will because it has to. 

Your feet slip across the laminated floor when you frantically scramble to go back the way you came. Two tall and ominous shadows wrap from around the opposite corner and you are afforded just enough time to dart behind a wall before Lyle and Z Dawg appear. 

“You’re an idiot.” She says. 

“Yeah yeah say whatever you want but don’t pretend like you wouldn’t rip someone in half for a Big Mac right now.” Lyle defends himself, their shadows now paint the dimly lit corridor, stretching closer and closer to your tucked away spot.

You could run, but these are recombinants. They would pick up the sound of your footsteps in an instant. The wind from your sprint would carry your scent. 

“Sure, but I asked what your first meal back on Earth would be, not what your guilty pleasure fast food order is.” 

“These savages can keep their overgrown weeded garden of a planet. I want some fucking chicken nuggets!” 

As their voices become louder it appears that running will be your only choice after all. 

“I don’t even know why I ask at this point.” She sighs and a short hiss echoes down the hallway. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, feet repositioning as you prepare yourself to run. If you were smart you would have already been halfway down the hallway at this point but some part of you refuses to move. It clings to hope foolishly. 

“Well I’m sure-”

“Shut up asshole. The comm.” Z Dawg hisses and they both turn silent, no doubt listening to the orders on the other end. 

Your hands are shaking now, that tremor traveling up your shoulders as you await their response. 

“Copy that.” Lyle says and then the sound of heavy boots recedes into the distance. 

You can hardly believe your luck. 

That dark cloud of dread ripples away and hope takes its place once more. Maybe you can pull this off after all. 

Your room is exactly as you left it. No one has bothered to pack up any of your things or even dispose of your half folded laundry. This tiny corner of a shared living space has been your own for your whole life, everything you have known. It feels so small now. 

Rifling through the laundry basket you find a loose green tee and a pair of  tan shorts. You originally had a whole outfit planned for this day, something comfortable but nice. Those garments are, however, still crumpled up on the ground. This will have to do. 

As you hastily slip them over the beaded jewelry and tewng you pray to whatever god will listen that this will be enough to keep you incognito. You are barely finished buttoning up the shorts when heavy footsteps ring down the hallway. 

Their echo is soft, no doubt still several halls away but they are progressively getting louder. Now is not the time to take any more risks. This room is tiny and already cramped with scattered junk. Hiding under your bed would not only be idiotic but near impossible with the way your creaky bed  swoopes so low to the ground. There is, however, an old built-in cabinet above that you’ve used to hold your clothes. 

It’s just barely big enough for you to squeeze into so with those footsteps getting louder and your own terror sky rocketing, you push everything out of it and shove your body into the metal space. The door has metal slots with just enough slant to allow your visual through it. 

Your clammy right hand presses over your mouth when the door to the room creaks open.

Neteyam strolls in leisurely, eyes sweeping over the cramped space with interest. With wide eyes and strangled lungs, you watch him prowl through the area slowly. He bends down to run his fingers over the rumbled sheets, the back of his hand lingers over your pillow case. 

He takes his time looking through the various knick knacks and cords littering your night stand. He doesn’t hesitate to ball the old picture of Jeremy into his fists. Its remains are tossed to the side without care. 

Did he toss the real Jeremy like that?

You make a vow to find him as soon as you make it on board. 

Assuming Neteyam hasn’t already hunted him down. 

You could look for whatever is left of Jeremy.

You can’t think about that now, though. Not as your heart is pounding against your ribs like a bird trying to escape a cage. Not when Neteyam lifts his mask for a sip of air as he plays with your tiny music box. 

He is gentle with all of your belongings, roaming through the area like a man that doesn’t have hundreds of Sky People to threaten off of his planet. Surely, he will have to leave soon. He’s just here out of curiosity, more of his stalker tendencies pushing him to invade your space. 

The music box looks like a Christmas ornament in his palm and you worry that he will accidently crush it. It was a pain in the ass to get and a possession you have always treasured because of that. Neteyam’s ears push forward when he finally figures out how to start the music and that delicate ballerina begins to twirl. 

“Maybe it’s all of your silly trinkets.” He breaks the silence, you startle slightly. He can’t be talking to you, you remind yourself. Neteyam thinks he is alone, just nosing through your old room as he thinks out loud. “Is that what you miss so much? What has you running off and acting naughty, little gift?” 

He’s bluffing. There is no way he could know you are here. Your scent has to be strong in the room but that’s to be expected since this was your living space. Ironically this should be the perfect place to hide away. 

“You know,” He starts, carefully placing the music box back down. “I was planning on letting you bring some of these funny things back to our kelku once you start behaving. A little incentive to be my good girl.” 

The knot in your throat is near impossible to gulp down and when you do, his ears twitch. You don’t want to believe it. How did he find you? You tug your legs closer to your chest as if you can contort yourself into a small enough ball that will magically disappear. 

“But it’s obvious now that you respond better to retribution than reward.” 

It’s a miracle that your lip doesn’t split from how hard your teeth press into it. Neteyam may not be able to track your scent here but the smell of blood would be a dead giveaway. All signs point to being caught but you aren’t ready to hand over the last shreds of hope yet. Neteyam doesn’t know about the cabinet. He’s bluffing about knowing you are here. No one has seen you. 

“We can revisit the idea of a reward system later, pet.” 

The muscles in your legs are cramping beyond relief, begging you to stretch out. You don’t heed these discomforts, too paralyzed by the proximity of your captor. Neteyam on the other hand appears deceivingly content and relaxed, rummaging through your things as if he has all the time in the world. 

He carefully opens your nightstand drawer and those hairless eyebrows raise immediately. The bras are tossed to the side with the same care as the picture but then tiny little lace fabric hangs from his fingers. It’s far from your greatest problem but your cheeks heat anyways when he carefully observes your light purple panties. 

Out of all the drawers to open it seems that Neteyam knows just the one to torment you with. 

“Then again,” The Olo’eyktan smirks. “These are quite cute.” And this time instead of inhaling from the respirator he soaks in the scent from the small fabric instead. Your thighs clench together. 

“Wouldn’t mind having my little tawtute model these for me.” He hums, while pulling out several more pairs. He tucks them away safely in a small pouch attached to his loincloth. “That is, once I finally get rid of this rebellious streak of yours.” 

You allow yourself a small sigh when Neteyam goes around to the other side of the bed, just enough distance for you to breathe properly. 

“Time to come out, little gift.” He squats down onto his haunches, prowling across the floor like a predator on track. He must be searching for you and if that is true then you may still have a chance yet. Neteyam may think you are in here but he doesn’t know where exactly. 

Thoughts race through your mind at a thousand miles per minute. They twist and twirl to find some way that you could get out of this situation unscathed. The doorway is visible through the slanted slits of the cupboard. With the proper footing you may be able to close that distance with a courageous leap. And maybe, just maybe that would be enough to catch Neteyam off guard and give you a head start. 

You make one fatal mistake, however. 

If there is one thing a good prey knows to do, it is to keep sight of their predator at all times. 

Your feet don’t even get the chance to hit the ground, instead dangling and thrashing once you are caught with a strong hold around your waist. Hoping is waning but disappointment sprouts into increased vigor as your nails digging into his arms and legs struggle to kick back at him. 

“YOU MOTHERFUCK-” Your cursing slings into a shriek when Neteyam grabs a fistful of your hair and uses it to strongly crane your head backwards. His golden eyes are dilated until only a thin rim of molten gold is visible. The weight of his angry gaze takes your breath away. 

“Enough.” He enunciates the word, like a drawn sword ready to slash. “Listen closely, pet.” The lump in your throat goes down with a strained gulp. “There is not an inch of this Sky Demon hell hole or corner of this planet that you can run to without being drawn back to me. You are mine and I’ve done well to mark my property.” The fingers intertwined in your hair tickle over the back of your neck, no doubt leaving the trail of his scent behind. “You reek of me.” 

Tears gather at the corner of your eyes and you flutter them closed to avoid his burning attention. 

“As you should.” His voice rumbles as nothing more than a growl against the nape of your neck. 

“I never asked for this!” Your fighting dimms down to nothing more than squirming as gritting the choked words out sucks your energy away. Before you can do anything to stop it, tears blaze trails down your cheeks. “Just let me go! Please!” 

“Quiet, pet.” 

Another yank to your hair and the words die on your lips. It’s clear now that the time for fun and games is over. Neteyam wastes no time in throwing you onto the creaky mattress and covering your body with his own until he becomes a shadow blocking out the fluorescent light above. His thighs straddle your waist, putting just enough weight down to keep you in place. 

“No more tears.” He sighs, with down turned lips, but doesn’t pause his bunching of your tee shirt. “It’s clear I’ve been spoiling you too much.” 

A broken grasp is pulled from your throat when he easily tears the shirt straight down the middle. You’re not sure what you are trying to accomplish as you swat at his working hands. The shirt was neither your favorite nor of great importance but you still try to stop the onslaught of ripping. 

Confused and overwhelmed you squirm as he rips it into wide ribbons of fabric and then without warning you are flipped onto your stomach. You scramble to crawl away but Neteyam’s plants a foot on your ass and that is unfortunately all it takes to pin you down. Your hands are snatched next, forced together behind your back as the ripped stripes of your own shirt are used as makeshift rope to tie your wrists together. 

Something about him using your own personal clothing to keep you bound for him has your legs kicking out fiercely. It won’t do much damage even if you manage to hit him, but there needs to be an outlet for your anger. You need to feel like there is still some wreckage for you to inflict. The last tiny shred of power that you cling to for dear life. 

Neteyam isn’t in the mood to put up with your outbursts. Much like a fresh kill from his hunting trips he keeps you pinned and makes quick work of binding you imobile. The action is so well rehearsed and instinctual in fact that he already moves on to his next task of destroying your shorts. 

Shrieks and small clawing fingers are simply background ambience for the Olo’eyktan as he works. Surprisingly the small tawtute sized Na’vi clothing is not exempt from the male’s destructive hands. They too become nothing more than rolling beads and scraps of fabric falling to the floor. 

Your string of bloody curses are only temporarily interrupted by your own gasp when Neteyam takes a seat on the bed and throws you over his knee in one swift move. Kicking is no longer an option for your rage when he swings one leg over both of yours. Blood rushes to your head but even dizziness can’t stop your violent outrage. 

However, it appears a cracking smack to your upturned ass can. 

The pain doesn’t ripple forward until a few moments after your shock has subsided. Neteyam has always had creative ways of punishing you but this is different. You’d figured that he would never lay a hand on you after all that he has droned on and on about how important it is to protect a fragile thing like you. 

But another hit accompanies the first and this time you can’t hold back your small squeak. 

“Just as I thought.” He spanks you again, his hand mercilessly hitting both cheeks with every strike. “You’ve been practically begging for a firmer hand.” The cry that the next rapid three slaps pull from you is one that you don’t recognize. 

“Pretty little things like you still struggle to remember their place.” 

“Stop! Stop!” You shriek, trapped legs still fruitlessly sprawling for escape. 

“Don’t worry, little gift.” He squeezes one of your pink cheeks after this last spank. “That’s what I am here for. I won’t let your silly little tawtute tendencies keep you away from me.” 

It doesn’t take long for the color of your backside to match your face as the blood drains to your head. Neteyam is persistent, hardly batting an eye at your cries and shrieks. From cursing to death threats, none of your spewed venom makes him flinch. If anything you manage to catch his small smirk when you twist to glare up at him. You don’t make that mistake again when you find this behavior only rewards you with condescending coos from the Na’vi. 

“That’s a good girl. Let all those nasty words go.” He purrs, heavy hand never letting up on your poor bottom. 

It’s this praise that has your mouth clamping shut. You hold back any and every sound you can as your ass takes a beating. Which is not a lot when the Na’vi male has unfathomable strength and your backside already feels like flames could erupt from it at any moment. 

“Oh pet, I’ve hardly even touched you and you’re already blushing so pretty for me.” Neteyam hums in delight, hand roaming over your burning ass like an art piece just waiting to be admired properly. 

Hardly even touched you?

Is this just his way of being an ass or are you truly that far from the finish line?

You jolt when one finger slips between the crack of your cheeks, teasing over your hole gently. A sound caught between a scream and whimper erupts from you without thought. Bound hands flatten and flail to cover the untouched area but Neteyam simply chuckles and lets his own hand retreat. 

“Mawey, tiyawn.” Neteyam pats your backside softly, almost in a casual reassuring manner. “Another day.” 

It’s hard to say what is more humiliating. Being bound and turned over the Olo’eyktan’s knee like a naughty child or the wetness trickling from your pussy at the feel of his teasing fingers in a place you’ve never dared let anyone else explore before. 

Pain is a great distraction from your humiliation. So much so that it eventually motivates you to dash pride to the side and begin your pleading. 

“A-ah Neteyam! I’m sorry! I’m sorry…eh-ah I-I’ll be good!” It’s not even clear what you are trying to say anymore. Your mouth runs on autopilot, throwing out any line of remorse in hopes of one doing the job. “I ngh-ah didn’t mean to! I won’t run! Can’t take anymo- ah! Neteyam!” 

He reigns his hits to warm the underside of your thighs too, moving between that vulnerable area and your ass in such an erratic way that it is impossible to anticipate where the next will land. 

Plea after plea is thrown out but resembles nothing more than garbled desperation, nothing that can pass as a full sentence.

However, one call catches his attention.

“Olo’eyktan please!” 

The sound of slapping skin stops. 

Tears continue to plunge down your cheeks even without the constant spanking, your ass burns and tingles in shock. The tuft of his tail poruses over your naked thighs, sending a sensation both painful and ticklish. 

“Repeat, pet.” 

“Wha-what?” You stammer, voice thick with tears. 

“What did you say?” That large hand comes down once more like a crack of lightning. 

“AH! Olo’eyktan O-Olo’eyktan please please please. No more no more!” 

He smooths over your knotted hair, pushing it away from your sweaty temple and tear stained face. It’s tempting to look away from his soft gaze but intuition tells you to let him see the trembling state he has left you in. Let him witness how pitiful and distraught a simple spanking has made you be. 

“I….I’m sorry, Olo’eyktan.” 

Neteyam smiles like one would at a lover, a tender pride lacing his lips. 

“You’re learning, pet.”

Putting batteries in that small remote was a mistake. A ridiculous useless mistake that now leaves you standing on shaky legs. The pink vibrator that has resided in your nightstand drawer dutifully on hand for years is now the source of your torment. 

Well, maybe not the source per say. 

No, the true origin of this humiliation stares back at you with knowing eyes and swatting tail, his large hand making that tiny remote look like a children’s toy. The vibrator buzzes inside of you on the lowest setting, but that relief can only last for so long with the way Neteyam enjoys jumping between the different levels. 

Every last shredded piece of your Na’vi and human clothing lays back on the floor of your old bedroom. The only savior of your decency is Neteyam’s cloak that he had thrown around your shoulders. With the size difference this cloak acts more like a dress and therefore gives you more coverage than you’ve had in a week yet somehow leaves you feeling more vulnerable than ever before. Trembling fingers never stray from the seams of the cloak, keeping it wrapped around you tightly as the crowds of humans and Na’vi continue to pass you. 

Neteyam has left you with one of the other Na’vi warriors but never out of his sight. It’s a miracle that your hands were cut loose in the first place but perhaps that is another sick joke the Olo’eyktan plays on you. He knows that you won’t run. He knows you can’t run. His attention and promised consequences for misbehavior are more than enough to keep you tucked in his pocket. 

That and of course his control over the rippling vibrations that torture your pussy. 

The nearest warrior is sure to be noticing your frazzled state by now. At least he has the decency to hide his interest, unlike another Na’vi that watched from the sidelines. Lo’ak, leaned against one of the hoverships like it’s a random Tuesday afternoon, watches with a small smirk and perked ears. If Neteyam notices, he doesn’t seem to have a problem with it because Lo’ak is left unbothered in his ogling. 

The tempo increases, the vibrator now picking a pattern of random pulses that bash against your sweet spot. Bottom lip bleeding now from your biting, it’s a struggle to keep your moans at bay. With the heavy machinery moving and hundreds of Na’vi and humans passing surely there must be enough noise to block out any degrading sounds you make. But you can’t take that risk. You’ve made the mistake of underestimating the Na’vi’s enhanced hearing before and that is what has landed you here. 

Neteyam twirls the tiny remote between his fingers like a fidget toy as another Na’vi warrior comes to report. 

You start to commiserate the loss of that ridiculous human sized loincloth Neteyam made you because at least then there was some fabric barrier to hide your wetness. Now, the thick Pandoran air runs up the cloak and over your soaked thighs and cunt. It reminds you constantly how pathetic you have become as orgasm after orgasm has escaped your grip. Even worse it reminds you how easy it is to carry that aroused scent through the breeze for all Na’vi to detect. At that rate, worrying about your noises is the least of your concerns. 

Lo’ak reloads the machine gun with practiced hands, moving with muscle memory so he can continue to stare and send silent messages your way. No doubt he is theorizing on what exactly his brother has done to diminish you to such a state. His eyes dance with those ideas, the little quirk of his lips telling you just how creative and vial his thoughts have turned. 

Another level up and this time it is Neteyam’s eyes that have you squirming. Your impending orgasm coils tighter and tighter with every passing second and you're so desperate to find some way to release this energy that your bare feet begin fidgeting against the concrete. It’s almost like a little dance, one that has Lo’ak laughing under his breath. 

It stops.

You breathe. 

There is some sort of commotion off in the distance. Not one that you can truly pin down the source of but you do notice the way Neteyam nods as a Na’vi female says something to him. With a wave she is dismissed and then the Olo’eyktan saunters off. Although slightly worried over the trouble, you are grateful for the respite. 

And then a nightmare unfurls before your eyes.

Instead of marching to the issue, Neteyam takes a pit stop to converse with his younger brother. Lo’ak’s tail whips in the wind at whatever is whispered in his ear but the real horror comes when that traitor of a remote is handed over to the younger Sully male. 

You are seconds away from stomping over there and crushing that pink little weapon before the other male can wield it. However, your dutiful guard places a hand on your shoulder after just one step. His eyes remain locked forward but the warning is enough as his hand retreats. You are still being watched. 

With one last glance your way, Neteyam has the audacity to give you, his little pet, a warm smile before leaving you in the hands of his brother. 

Lo’ak swings the gun around to his back in favor of playing with his new toy. Every dark and viscous fiber left within you is channeled into the glare you give him. It should say everything that your lips can not.

Don’t you dare.

Don’t you fucking dare. 

Now would be a good time to look into Na’vi curses, anything you could betrix upon him for what he is about to do, because of course Lo’ak won’t back down. If anything that fire in your eyes lights his own delight and has him sitting down and bracing forward. Forearms resting on his thighs he clocks your every movement.

This is sure to be the best entertainment the bastard has had in a long time. 

He savors the passing moments of anticipation. Never backing down from the ultimate seething looks you give him. Finally a crash sounds and that distraction is right when Lo’ak sets the vibrator to high. From zero to one hundred, pleasure rackets through you like a shock wave. The force is so much that it temporarily makes you stumble on your feet. The other guard wordlessly steadies you back into place. 

Lo’ak’s grin is feral. 

This silent battle slips between your fingers so quickly it is hard to comprehend, because all that can register in your brain is how fast you are hurtling towards an orgasm. After Neteyam’s denial your body is high strung and ready to take any sensation as fuel to push you over the edge. Nails digging into the soft fabric of Neteyam’s cloak, pleasure rockets higher and higher until only the whites of your eyes are visible. 

Knees bowing inward, ecstasy is finally yours. 

There isn’t enough energy left to question why Lo’ak let you reach your high. Instead you focus on riding that wave while simultaneously keeping upright. 

That persistent buzzing against your sweet spot continues until your nerves are short circuiting. The pleasure turns to overstimulation and you give Lo’ak a look that alerts him of this change. 

His amusement tells you that he already knows your predicament but his thumb remains far from the off button. 

Pathetic noises now bubble up your throat without restraint as pleasure ebbs into pain. It switches back and forth until another release is on the verge of consuming your being. The guard next to you doesn’t say anything when he helps to sit on the cold ground. 

The second orgasm has a bitter taste to it but your greedy pussy clenches around the toy all the same. It’s almost too bad that Neteyam decided not to gag you because at least that would muffle your cries as you rock down onto the toy. Lo’ak gulps at the sight, pupils blown wide when the first glimmer of tears scrape down your cheeks.

Regardless, he shows no mercy as he takes in the show with undivided interest. 

Vaguely you register the bustle and commotion around you as different Na’vi and humans rush to and fro, giant machinery finally backing into place but they are only background noise to your third orgasm. 

Your body is caught between delight and despair with every passing second. When you are close to reaching your peak for the fourth time your body is resistant to get you there all the way. The intense buzzing in your pussy is driving you wild but still not enough to drag out another orgasm after being too overstimulated. Despite the soreness that emanates from your wrecked hole, your clit throbs in agony. Begging to be touched. To be licked. Pinched. Flicked. God, anything at this point.

Memories of Neteyam doing just that surface, pushing you closer and closer to another dumbing climax and yet only serve as a reminder of how you are not getting the treatment you so desperately need. Pride is dashed to the side, you’ll worry about the consequences of grinding onto the toy in public later. 

Lo’ak’s hands roughly brush over his inner thighs and it draws your attention. The taunt muscle and smooth skin of those thighs would surely brush over your intimate flesh so perfectly. He would probably help you too, hands clawing at your hips as they urge you back and forth over the area. Even more so, the younger brother would not be able to pass up the opportunity to show his power over the situation, muscles flexing to tease your clit oh so beautifully. 

You’re not sure when Lo’ak became telepathic but he grips his knees and gives you a look that says he knows every dark desire that plagues your brain. His nails press into that soft flesh and drag until there are pretty red marks left behind. If you crawled over there sweetly, would he let you ride? Maybe if you healed those red marks with open mouthed kisses and kitten licks. 

Unaroused you would be ashamed of this train of thought but she is so far gone now. 

The only thing your poor abused cunt is begging for was attention. Anything to get this awful mix of heaven and hell to bleed into euphoric release and rest. 

The only thing stopping you from reaching down and finishing the job yourself is the assurance that Lo’ak would snip all pleasure in a bud at the sight of any touching. 

The area has been cleared of invaders. Na’vi begin to make their way off to the hills before take off but you are none the wiser. Caught in your own little bubble you don’t even notice when a sudden shadow blocks out the sun. That is until, large warm hands slip under the cloak and skate over your spread legs. 

Such a simple touch has never made you whimper more. 

Neteyam’s accent is thicker now, words heavy enough to hardly understand the meaning as he coos at you. “There’s my sweet pet. Little slut just wants to come again, don’t you?”

His fingers force your legs to spread even wider. Lo’ak’s stares as if his glare could heat up enough to burn through that cloak. 

With such delicacy it makes you want to scream, Neteyam uses two fingers to part your pussy lips and expose your pulsing clit. The other hand slithers down to rest on your thigh as you try to buck against the air. 

“Come for your Olo’eyktan, pet,” He growls and with the other hand he begins delivering rapid little taps to your clit. It’s humiliating how tiny the gesture that puts you over the edge is but you paint the toy white regardless. 

When the vibrator finally takes a rest you are too far lost in your own little world. Neteyam swaddles you in the cloak and carries you in his arm as you bury into his chest. And conveniently, when you are tucked back in the forest there is no awareness left in you to recognize the sound of launching ships. 

As always interaction and feedback not only means the world to me but also as a great motivator for writing and updating<3

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Let me know if I missed you. It's getting a littly tricky to keep track of everyone haha

[puhmpken]

Author’s Note: This one is a filler since I am still working on “Dairy of the Obsessed” ..this one was spontaneous lmfaoo! Also requests are open feel free to give me story ideas

This has BEEN edited 🥳🎉

Warning ⚠️-> If you’re under the age of 18+ DONT interact with this post, this is your only & final warning! I do not & will not take responsibility for anything further!

You have been warned

Title: A Shape-Shifter’s Dilemma

Alastor x Reader Oneshot

written + edited by @puhmpkins-blog 🎃

W/C: 5.1K 😀 oops maybe too much lol my imagination got the better of me but please enjoy!

You always questioned where Alastor your husband would go. Most of the time you would brush it off and not think of it—Overlord stuff.

But one night while Al and you slept in the same bed he tossed and turned in his sleep you could assume he was having a nightmare

“honey..?” You said in a low ruff voice as you gently placed a hand on Alastor who stops his moving before the word he mutters out was

“charlie..”

...Now that is odd. Why would a overlord like Alastor be saying the princess of hells name in the middle of his sleep?

It made you raise a eyebrow, and questioned him.

The day following did not seem to ease your nerves one bit, he again in rather ..a rush to leave the manor

Standing next to the front doors door you watched as he moved back and forth through the living room looking for whatever he was desiring

“What's rushing for darling? This is rather out of character” You said as your eyes watched him move throughout the room

“Oh nothing to concern yourself with dearie!~ Just overlord business”

You hummed back at his bland cryptic response not wanting to pick it apart–you just decided not to question it and save yourself the energy

“Right. Just don’t go get yourself in trouble” You said smiling at Alastor standing infront of you, slightly towering over you as you fixed and cleaned off any dirt or lent that got caught on his suit as he was in your words rushing around

Moving your hands away from him, your eyes locked with his as Alastor’s reddish brown eyes, a flicker of amusement dancing within them. His lips curved from a small smile into a sly smirk, revealing his pointy teeth.

“Trouble?,” he questioned, making his one of his eyebrows raise in a cocky way , “Why..thats my middle name, my dear.” He said clasping and holding both your hands as he stared at you, before shrugging “But perhaps maybe I’ll make an exception—for you.”

You rolled your eyes to your husband's playful antics, before giving Alastor his goodbye kiss and waving him bye as he sinks into his shadow disappearing leaving you alone in the manor.

A moment of silent filling the air before

“Now, let me figure out WHAT’S actually happening.”

And that’s how this whole shenanigan began with you.

You see, while Alastor might have been expected to marry some ordinary demon, you in your case, were far from ordinary. As a shape-shifting demon, you possessed the ability to transform your identity at will, becoming a whole new demon or a manifestation of whatever your imagination desired.

The only limitations were those of your own imagination or..if Alastor was able to sniff you out, thanks to his keen sense of smell. HOWEVER, avoiding detection was usually easy enough… for the most part.

Weeks to months you’ve been keeping up on this “routine” of cat and mouse but all was paying off.

You found out Al has been to much of your dismay harboring rather a couple of secrets hidden and tucked from you. Other than your known overlord stuff he was a suppose helper at a hotel called the “Hazbin Hotel” that princess charlie owns and works at with a couple of other people almost made you drop with laughter when you first seen Alastor helping out with the hotel, you had to tell Rosie about this later.

It was easy to stay undercover and even easier to get close to him without him realizing and knowing it was you.

You made up your mind weeks ago that his territory would be fine, if you step away here and there to follow Alastor to the hotel

And that’s how you end up to the present day you.

You weren’t satisfied with knowing Alastor helps at a hotel. Yes indeed it was a shocker but that’s all? You were still puzzled on why Al said Charile name to began with

Alastor hasn’t suspected a thing yet due to him kinda being busy at the hotel or up in his office.

On the rare times you would see him, he was up in the upper balcony with nifty laughing with her, you couldn’t hear what they were talking about but knowing the both of them.. it was rather something strange or gruesome

As another shifted ended, the day ended with you back at the manor seating in your comfortable loveseat, reading a book before mere minutes Al got back, making it seem as normal as possible to not raise suspicions

The next day as things moved along you wished Alastor a goodbye as you watched him shift into the shadows and disappear off.

Waiting a few minutes after he left you then began to get ready for your shift at the hotel, that first started with showering to rid yourself of your natural scents–you didn’t want to be tackled down by your husband as soon as you walk in through the door.

Finishing up with your shower you stepped out spraying some random cheap perfume you had bought to scramble Al scents.

As you began styling yourself from being a lady of the 1920s with elegant beauty and designer dresses to a ripped petite coat, old bleach stained black skirt with a hole at the bottom with a finish messy down hairstyle

You laughed at your reflection

Seeing what you looked like in your normal form made you laugh. Alastor would probably gasp and dropped to his knees at the things you wore.

You walked out the house being sure to not be seen

Successfully making it past the fenced gates and out of the woods you came to the main roads of hell shifting yourself into a hell creature you have been using for this whole little “spying game”

A lengthy white fur being that stood, 6ft having two red stripes covering both arms and legs. Your (h/c) just reached the middle of your back and on your head sat two cream colored pointy horns, you kept your sharp teeth to still be able to scare off unwanted demons if the occasion was to rise

Checking yourself out in the reflection of the glass windows, you made sure everything was correct: your look, your attire and your scent.

You started to walk to the hotel, the sidewalk you have taken at least more than ten times.

As you inched closer to the hotel you for safe measures stopped and sprayed yourself down one more time in cheap perfume emptying the bottle before tossing it off in the distances and kept walking

Getting inside the hotel was an easy task,

You said hello to everyone vaggie, angeldust, sir pentious and his eggo children, huskier and nifty.

‘Everyone is down here practically–well almost everyone’ looking around furrowing your eyebrows together

“Where Charlie? She's usually with you, Vag?” You said to Vaggie who was sitting on the couch next to Angel looking at the TV

“She should be in her office right now Lucy. I think she also wanted to talk to you” Vaggie said kinda nonchalantly shrugging her shoulders towards the end as she looked up from the tv to you as you nodded your head

Making a hum noise you turned on your heel and began walking to Charlie office

Knocking before you entered, Charlie sat at her desk looking at papers

“Helluva morning Charlie. Vaggie was telling me you were looking for me, I just wanted to speak to you about what you wanted” You said as you walked towards her desk and seating down in one of the chairs across from it

Charlie still having her go lucky smile on her face nodded putting down a couple of papers “Yes Vaggie was right! I was looking for you Lucy!” She said pausing as she slide over a little stack of paperwork, “It’s nothing serious promise! I just wanted you to run these up to Al~!”

You nodded silently thanking hell for the opportunity to be closer to Al

“Yeah of course I can do that” You said standing up taking the paperwork in your black gloved hands “Consider it done Charlie!” You said walking out of her office as she screamed a thank you from behind a closed office door

You hummed quietly to yourself as you walked up the flights of stairs to get to Alastor’s door

Minutes passed before you got to the door that read in bold letter

“Alastor, Radio Demon”

Knocking lightly on the door, ‘he should be in there?’

“…”

‘No response..hm that weird’ You thought as you looked over both your shoulders before you placed a gloved hand on your door handle twisting the knob before it opened slowly

!!!CREAAAK!!!

Your body mentally cringed at the noise as you pushed the door more open glancing around one more time you slipped in the crack of his door, gently shutting it closed once you entered

‘Wow’ Was the first word that escaped your mouth looking into his room now, it's his office yes, but what was beyond it that made it almost feel like you were..alive it was the bayou swamp/forest it was just how you remembered before you died all those years ago..breathtaking

Scanning the dimly lit area with the only light being a moonless night and the few fireflies that infested the air, you didn’t see Alastor anywhere in sight, just a table with a chair on it in the middle of the grassy forest.

You bite your lip gently as you looked between the paper work and the forest before groaning knowing your mind was made up, as soon as you laid your eyes on the bayou. Leaving the paperwork for Alastor sitting on his wooden desk before you walked passed it and too the bayou landscape filling as it was almost a dream

Walking slowly into the grassy area with a smile as you breathed in the smell of forest closing your eyes and taking in the sound

It was a wonderful moment of quiet before the light noise of static in the forest made you snap your eyes open,.. that’s Alastor getting closer into range of where you were standing.

Being lucky and hopeful you HOPE he didn’t see you in the clearing just standing their with your eyes closed

You ran and hide behind some bushes and trees that were away from the table and chair you were standing near–and just in the nick of time

You could hear and see him from where you were hiding the full static sound of a certain radio demon as he hummed a tune with a deer slumped dead over on his shoulder, carrying it with ease as he slammed it down on the table, you examined as he sat down making a fork appear out of thin air as he leaned his staff against his chair, before disappearing into air as he began to eat the deer raw pulling at its meat–made you want to gag in disgust

‘He could’ve cooked it’ you thought watching him munch down on his hunt you can assume. Licking his lips after a couple of bites he wiped his mouth with a napkin like a true unhinged gentleman

Before he cleared his throat his eyes shutting but his smile spreading wider, causing you to get goosebumps

“I know your there” He said making you do a double take ‘he knows i am here?’ you thought blinking as you didn’t buy his bluff

“I can sense your presence,” he drawled, his voice dripping with a sinister charm.

“You can’t hide from me.” He opened his crimson eyes as they began scanning the area. You kept your movement still as he scanned over the area you were hiding. You saw how he squinted his eyes almost immediately at the bush you were in

“Come out, come out wherever you are” He sang out in a haunting tone

“You do know as a predator.”He started in a cheery tone before his voice dropped to a dual and deep one “ I can smell you out.” His voice ringing of no radio filter

Your heart began to sped up

‘fffuck’ Is what you thought before you seen Alastor disappear into thin air—it wasn’t a surprise you were accustomed to that but you couldn’t help your heart starting to speed up as he vanished into the air

“Run,” a disembodied whisper breathed against your nape

Took you no time of convincing as you ran not looking behind you as you kept your eyes forward only hearing the sound of something chasing behind,

You hit left and right, hoping to get Alastor off of you

As you take another right you ran behind a tree, hiding behind its figure as you heard and felt Alastor run pass you

You have never done something like this, it was rather fun but dangering

Peaking your head from behind the tree after what felt like entirety you didn’t see Alastor for safe measures you transformed yourself to a small forest animal, just in case Alastor wants to sneak behind you..again

Following near your foot trail from the tree branches, you jumped from branch to branch with ease as you stopped once more hearing static noise come from nowhere, you smirked in your creature form as Alastor wouldn’t suspect a thing

Watching from above, his form essentially appeared from thin air as he had a wide smirk and a look of hunger in his eyes as he looked at the spot you were suppose to be standing

“Where are you~?” He said

“…”

After a moment of looking in all the places he would expect and assume for someone to hide, he stood in the middle of the forest arms crossed as his ears flickered now and then

“Now where did they go? I was rather hungrier for something other than deer” He said you can tell by his voice he was almost dumb struck how could he still be able to smell you but your nowhere near..weird?

You slowly shifted yourself backwards away from Alastor as you didn’t want to alarm him nor give away your hiding, you were almost clear before a vibration was felt throughout the branch and in one second the branch snapped as you land ontop of Alastor head

“...”

“...”

It was quiet not either one of you dared to move before you felt your body being picked up fully by his hand and now..the jig was up

“What do we have here..” He said looking at you “A small diversion from the person thats in here?”Alastor’s gaze bore into you, dissecting your very essence.

A wicked glint in his eyes began to take place, “Well I guess since I couldn't catch my actual food, I shall eat you little one” Pausing to smug smile before continuing “Bad luck for you?~” He said as he lifted you above his mouth

You squirmed in his hands, heart racing.

‘This can’t be how (y/n)'s story ends’, you thought desperately.

Just as he was about to drop you into his abyssal maw, you shifted—your disguise falling away

You landed on top of Alastor, who staggered back, utterly unprepared.

“Don’t eat me,” you blurted out, adrenaline surging. Alastor stood, bemusement etching his features.

“Lucy?!” Alastor’s voice crackled through the air, a radio filter distorting his words. The static hummed, raising the hairs on your arms.

“Why are you in here?” His step was deliberate, menacing. You retreated, heart pounding.

“How did you make yourself appear small? Then big?” His eyes narrowed, dissecting you. Each step he took, you mirrored, until your back pressed against a tree—literally.

Your mind raced for a lie, an escape. But then it happened—the slip up, the unraveling.

You shifted into your true form, the one Alastor would recognized.

“(Y/N)?!” His voice lost the radio filter, and you met his gaze. Confusion etched his features. You bit your bottom lip, a awkward laugh escaping.

“Erm, surprise…?” You said as you watched him back up a little from you a smile now spreading wider by the minute as the static was the buzz in the air

As it was overtook by the applause he started to emitted as he turned the other way starting to laugh

“A surprise indeed dearie who would’ve know my wife could pull such a thing off” He started.. you didn’t like how this was sounding as you moved away from the tree watching him as he created slight distances between him and yourself

You watched as a nagging feeling was telling you to start running but ignoring that you spoke up “Alastor I-” He cut you off with his words

As he appeared behind you—the Radio Demon, with crimson eyes and a dangerous smile. His arm encircled your waist, pulling you closer. “You had the entire hotel convinced of this Lucy woman,” he murmured, his voice devoid of filters. “Bravo, dearie. Truly bravo.”

You didn’t like how he was taking the situation as what he said to you in a flare voice on confirmed how much you actually DID piss off Alastor with this little disguise

“You should run now.”

Those four words holding a threat of the unknown and you wanting to at least talk for yourself turned to face Alastor his crimson eyes only reflecting the pure chaos he was about to inflict on this game of catch with you, as you shook your head

“Please let me explain” You urged, desperation coloring your voice.

“5” Alastor your dear husband replied, holding out his hand. The air crackled with tension

“Al please—…”

“4..” He sung out as he closed his eyes, standing tall. One hand rested behind his back, the other poised like a pendulum. The smile of him showing his sharp teeth made you swallow harshly

“3” He warned out to you knowing your still there as he opened one eye to look at you breathing out short “Hmm..a shame your going to let me catch you so easy” He said shutting his open eye closed

“2 dearie” He warned out now holding two fingers as he began to shift in his stances his neck elongated he was slowly shifting into his demon form, and that’s when you finally decide to run

You huffed and panted as you switched your form a couple of times to give you longer distances away from Alastor as you made it deeper into the Bayou the ground under you turning slightly squishy as you kept running not interested to turn around

You ran for what felt like hours before you stopped down near a swamp bank hunched on you knees as you gain your second wind, taking a few more breathes you stood up, the air was quiet you couldn’t hear the static of Al, so you have to be far from him? or he just turned off that noise so he could stalk and pounce on you

Whatever the case maybe you took a breathe in and out as you looked ahead of the lake, nothing but more forest—

You thought different ideas like turning into a winged creature and flying back towards the rooms door to get out of here, but you didn’t know how high you could fly and since Alastor can’t fly nor has wings, you doubt that celling is high enough to get high enough where he couldn’t hit you out of air

Best option was to keep running or go into the swamp water, it would give you better opportunity, reflecting your options about it you heard the ground beneath you move with vibrations ‘fuck he already found me’ you thought coming to the defeat you were going to let yourself be caught but that was until you seen that fucken demon form mere seconds before he seen you, you bailed out dipping yourself slowly in the cold water taking a big breathe before dunking yourself under

Seconds stretched into eternity as you held your breath, your lungs screaming for release. The vibrations in the ground intensified, and you knew he was near. What was Alastor going to do when he catched you? He wouldn’t actually hurt his wife? You thought of as your heart hammered against your ribs, and you wondered if you should be actually concerned

Alastor scanned the area, seeking his dear wife. You pressed deeper into the water, your head submerged further, only the top part of your head concealed by a stray lilypad.

Minutes passed—or perhaps it was mere seconds—before you surfaced. Gasping for air, you wiped water from your eyes. Alastor wasn’t in sight.

You continued walk towards the edge of the pond before crawling out of the pond, lying down on the edge of it your knees still submerged as you sighed out in relief, shutting your eyes for what felt like a second

Before you heard, the clearing of a throat—a sound that sent shivers down your spine. Opening your eyes standing above you was the oh-so-familiar radio demon. You smiled, but before you could vanish into the water, Alastor’s grip closed around your arms. His purr was a velvet blade against your skin.

“Come now, darling,” he drawled, his tone deceiving. “We don’t want you to get wet. Let me assist you in this rather…exchange.” His strength pulled you back, and you squirmed, defiance flaring. But Alastor was stronger, and you found yourself pressed against his chest, dripping and caught.

“Let go,” you demanded, but he only laughed—a predator savoring its prey

“Now, dear, this is part of the game.” His eyes bore into yours, crimson flames dancing. “I’ve caught you, and now you’ll be the prize I win.” His tongue flicked across his lips

As Alastor carried you through the forest he hummed a simple tone, making you more on edge

You both arrived at another clearing?

“This isn’t where we started Al” You said as he set you down, gently helping you get up, as your eyes shifted from the scenery to him

Alastor’s gaze was going up and down on you, as you caught little symbols manifesting themselves around him as he was now a step or two away from you

“Come here” He said in a commanding tone, a chain manifesting around your neck as your eyes widen to metal chain outline with the color of green. Your hands immediately shot to your neck trying to grip and claw at it. You felt a tug come towards Al before you leaned your body away from it trying to keep space, digging your feet lightly in the ground

One real yank got you to move forward unprepared, the earth meant your face very quick and you instantly felt blood in your mouth

“Ah, be good for me, Y/N, and just obey,” he murmured, his grip unyielding. You crawled on your knees and hands, inching closer to him. The chain around your neck tightened, lifting you off the ground. Alastor’s crimson eyes bore into yours.

“My dear sweet little wife, Y/N,” he drawled, his voice devoid of filters. Each word carried weight, punctuated by his southern accent. “You, dearie, violated our little agreement.” His fingers traced the chain. “We had an understanding, did we not?”

Your breaths came in ragged gasps. “I didn’t mean to Al” you whispered

His chuckle echoed through the clearing as he lowered you gently to the ground, ensuring the fall didn’t harm you.

“So, my doe,” he began, his voice a velvet blade, “please give me an explanation. Why has my wife been running around disguised as a Lucy person, working—” His fingers closed around your hands, the chain that had bound you vanishing into thin air. “Her dear, softly delicate hands at a hotel that deserves none of her attention?” His words hung in the air, a question wrapped in menace. “Rather than be in a manor that belongs to her and her husband? Have I done something wrong?”

You sighed out as you nodded taking your hands out of his, to his displeasure “All this started because i heard you mumble in your sleep rather a month or so ago..princess name Charlie” You said with embarrassment flaming your checks as you looked away from Alastor not wanting to know what expression he held

The air was quiet between the both of you, not a word was spoken—You felt like you were holding your breathe with the tension in the air before you felt the touch of your husband on your hands again

“Mon cher~” He purred out making you look at him, his face of course held a wide smile but the look in his eyes held anger with something else glimmering around it “Nothing could replace you”

“No hotel” He said his hand holding out your arm as he kissed at the palm before saying, “No demon” Alastor continued raising his head kissing you at the center of your arm, looking at you in the eyes before kissing more up your arm while saying “And certainly no Lucifer daughter could take my eye off of something as ravishing as you my doe~” Al kissing up you between each pause as he at your neck slowly peaking at it having you basically in his lap with your back towards him, as you moved your head to side to let him continue as he only chuckle at the gesture

Al with his free hand grabbing at your chin to make you look at him as he stared into your (e/c) “But my dear mon cher, you agree at my words as if you understand, but it seems as though you forgotten who I belong too” He said letting go of your chin as both of his hands traveled down to your hips resting there “You forget who's name causes thrill of different emotions within me, so let me remind you~”

Alastor leaned into you, as you meant him half way kissing him

A passionate kiss with some underline aggression made the kiss much more thrilling as Alastor fought for dominance with you trying to dominate over him

With a deep chuckle he pulled away from the kiss, “You being defiant won’t end well for you dear” You looked up too him as you bite your lower lip holding on too his bow tie slowly undoing it as his hands trailed up and down your legs

“No words so be it” He shrugged before pushing you down to the ground, your back laying on the grass as he spread your legs open wide, everything on full display for him to see

He leaned his head down as his ears pushed back towards his head as his eyes half lidded looking up to a red face you “Mm~Darling your so intoxicating with that look on your face” He said before plunging his head down open his mouth before eating your pussy

Your eyes shut closed as your hands went immediately to his hair gripping and pulling at it, as you mumbled out moans holding onto Alastor head down as he kept eating you out

“Al~!” You said in low moan as you felt yourself starting to come undone down there “Alastor..I..I am going to—”

Before you could muster and get out the words to warn your husband, the sensation of Alastor mouth moved away from you leaving you in almost blank state, so close to clarity but yet so far …

You whimpered as you looked down to Alastor who’s face was smirking as he shook his head licking his lips slightly “You think after the charade you pulled your going to get to cum that quick and easily?” He said and laughed “Dearie we are just starting.”

Alastor in a instances flipped you over making you rise to all fours with help of his shadows tendrils you were now ass up face down, with your arms being held down by the shadows tendrils, you whimpered trying to move against them as you felt a burning sensation on your bottom causing you to move it from side to side

Alastor watched in trans like state as you moved your ass after he smacked it only making his boner go harder, as he rub on it through his pants

“Al, let me out of this! I don’t want to be—Ahh~!”You said feeling a familiar feeling slide in you as your eyes rolled behind you, you clawed at the grass alastor pushed all himself in you

“Mmm~There you go Mon Cher~” Alastor said rolling his hips as his head tilted backwards, both of his hands gripping on your hips keeping them in place as he began slowly pumping in and out of you

You moaned as you moved with his thrusts, arching your back as Al grunts and low moans could be heard

Alastor started to pick up in speed as you could only speak out the simple word “Al~” Which was music to the radio demons ears

“Oh (Y/n)~” He said as he kept up fast with his thrusts moving one his hand to your hair, gripping at it pulling you backwards as your head flung back

“Open your eyes.” He said making you slowly open your eyes as meant with the eyes of crimson red ones as his smile was deceiving as his eyes showed pure lust that was feeling “Fuck.” He said as gripped tighter on your hair yanking almost at the root as you moaned with each thrust

“I am going to finish in you.” He said in not a question but as a command as you tighten around him bring him closer as he shut his eyes letting go of your hair before opening his mouth and bitting at the back of your neck as you moaned closing your eyes feeling yourself reaching edge as you reached climax sametime as Alastor

Couple months later drawed by quick before you knew it you were back at the manor, watching over Al’s territory sipping tea as you smiled mindlessly, yeah there was really nothing to worry about.

FIN!!!

Extra! Extra!

(Y/n) and Al strolling through the park. hand in hand as Al hums a tune

Al: “I do say mon cher, I think I never told you why I was saying Charlie's name”

Y/n: “Yeah you haven’t, do share”

Al: “You wouldn’t believe it! Charlie in my dream was trying to paint my Radio Studio, it was all going to be rainbows with fluffy pink unicorns if I didn’t say her name”

Y/n: deadpans

Al: Only telling you the truth dearie~!sings out

Y/n: Your truth is utter dogshit sometimes

Al: gasp Darling!

[0tivez]

adrenalize

synopsis: a perfect student can get in toruble every now and then too, right? except this time, you get into trouble with your famous bachelor professor satoru gojo for an unorthodox reason, and he'll make sure you make up for it

characters: gojo

warnings: female reader, student reader x professor gojo, semi-public sex, age gap (early 20s to late 20s), oral (female + male receiving), very light power play, dub-con (maybe?), unprotected sex, degrading/praising, breeding. mdni

wc: 4.3k

note: yes, this is my dark fantasy of being accepted as a mean looking emo bitch. no, i'm not in love with my professor. emo sluts rise (emo=reader wears all black and has dark makeup lol sorry couldn't pull a wattpad) it's our time to have steamy office sex with 2d men. see the end for more notes!

you know, i don't really put in songs, but what the hell. this one's for the emos

<- navigation

"oh, i have an appointment with professor gojo today" you tell your friend as you lay your lunch tray onto the table.

"for what?" she asks, her motion following yours. you two sit comfortably on the wooden chairs.

"i don't know. my grades, i guess? but my grades are fine, so i don't really know" you answer in confusion, and stab a big piece of chicken.

"well, i wish he would call me in his office"

"what?" you almost choke on your food. you look at your friend with big, dumb eyes. you wouldn't have been this surprised if she confessed to murdering someone, and you shouldn't be surprised at her confession either. yet somehow, you are.

"satoru's kinda hot, isn't he?" she responds, scrunching her nose. "he's also, like, extremely smart and funny"

"he's fucking old"

"um, no he's not? half of the school has bag of bones for professors, satoru's like... what, 30? i've fucked older"

"still, so inappropriate" you shut the conversation down. sure, you two had joked about how hot gojo is, and sure, the idea did entertain your mind, but it's between you two, a very private inside joke. you feel exposed this way, and the last thing you need is having that image of your professor in your mind as he lectures you about god knows what later today.

"i bet he fucks like his age too" she smirks across the table. you turn your head around anxiously to see if anyone's heard you two, but the loud cafeteria outweighs your little dirty convo.

"shut up!"

"girl you know damn well-"

"let's talk about this after i get scolded today. i don't want to worry about this man anymore"

it's 5.40 pm. where is he? he was supposed to meet you after class, yet he's nowhere to be found. and you're there standing in shame, as students pass you by, probably wondering what happened for you to be waiting like a stray kitten by his office.

of course, it's nothing to be ashamed of. god, you don't even know what you're supposed to be ashamed of yet! but here you are, cold sweat down your neck, hands nervously moving up and down your arms as you wait for time to pass.

that's how you are. quiet, nervous. yet most people have a different image of you; a colder, meaner image. it's difficult for you to socialize, so you stick to your two friends you made ages ago for your in-class interactions. for classes, you opt for quietly listening to your lectures rather than being interactive, even though you know it's not the right way, and you want to be social. that's why most professors rarely remember your name or your face- not that they're eager to know you anyways. that's why it's so confusing. what did you do to get called like this? how did he even know your name?

"ah- sorry for being late" gojo rushes next to you. his tall figure guides you to the narrow hallway where his office is hidden in. he quickly unlocks the door, and waits for you to enter first. "sit, i'll be back in a couple minutes" you nod.

once he turns around, you quickly observe his clothes. he always knew how to be stylish, even though his clothes are always basic. you figured it must be his fit figure that makes anything he wears compliment him. he's always clean and rich looking; never would he wear a wrinkled shirt. the female students would anticipate warm weathers, where gojo would sometimes wear a tight, black t-shirt and jeans. not today tho. although the weather is warm, he's wearing a light blue linen shirt with black jeans, complimented with a thick, leather belt. his shirt exposed his contoured collarbones, and arms exposed with an expensive looking watch to complete the look. and his face... god, his face.

he shuts the door behind you. you're left for your own thoughts. sitting down is uncomfortable for you, the only thing you can hear is your heartbeat. the building is empty, you can faintly hear students speaking from outside. you get up, and look around his office. it's filled with thick, leather covered books. interesting, you wouldn't assume he's into reading by looking at him, or hearing him speak. it must be professional deformation. papers are scattered around on his desk. everywhere else except for his desk is tidied and clean, but his desk is a warzone.

the door opens.

"hi, hello, sorry for making you wait. hope you didn't miss me too much" gojo paces toward his desk.

you shake your head. "it's alright, you must be very busy"

gojo stands over his desk and gathers some papers in his hand and puts them aside. "well, it is difficult to be the fun one in this department, y'know?" his blue eyes focus on yours for a moment, as he waits for a reaction from you. you chuckle in response.

gojo pulls out a paper from the batch and sits down. he raises the paper and looks at you. he calls your name. "correct?"

just the way he said your name sends chills down your spine. god, in that moment, you truly wish you would be more active in class, only to hear him call your name.

"correct"

he reads the paper quickly without putting it down. he looks like a kid doing it, yet you feel as if you were in front of a judge.

"so, interesting. you know your grade, right?" you nod.

"i-is there a problem? i thought i did good"

"oh, you did, definitely. this paper is very impressive. i enjoyed reading it." he smiles at you. "the only problem was, i had no idea whose paper i was reading the whole time"

you sit there silently. where was he heading at? he didn't call you in just to tell you to be more active in class, right?

"i mean i did know, i know how to read, but there wasn't a face you know? our class is pretty small, so i know most people. but you, who are you?"

"excuse me?" you manage to let out.

"you don't speak much in class, don't talk to anyone else in class, yet you never skip a class. and then boom! you write out this paper"

"am- am i being accused of something, sir?"

gojo looks amused. he grins, and rests on his back, crossing his arms. his muscles show up, is he trying to look intimidating? is he trying to get a confession out of you? cheating? stealing?

"no, nothing at all. i'm just curious. it's important that i know my pupils. talking to strangers affect my performance too"

"i- guess i'm more of a listener" you feel so small in front of him. this is embarrassing.

gojo gets up and walks to the chair across you.

"but you see, you don't look friendly either."

"wha-"

"i remember seeing you in class and thinking 'wow, she really doesn't wanna be here' which is new to me, cause i'm fun!" now you're sure he must be offended or something.

"sir, if that's the issue, i'll be more active from now on" you just want to leave. whatever it takes, leave.

"but why?" he ignores your suggestion. "why hate being with me?" gojo leans in to be closer to you. his long legs and big body help him be closer to you, despite the small coffee table separating you two.

"there's not a reason, sir. i don't hate-"

"i'm used to being popular among female students, y'know?"

this time, it's your turn to giggle.

"i'm sorry, is this what it's been about? you're offended that i'm not attracted to you?" lie. you're crazy for him. maybe that's why you're extra shy around him. but somehow, a wave of confidence washes over you in this moment. maybe it's the sincerity of him, maybe it's the ridiculousness of the situation. but whatever it is, it made you get a fiendish chuckle from your professor.

"it just doesn't happen. do you hate me? did i do something to you?"

"no, sir, i'm just a shy person"

"why the face?" he points at his own face, and makes a sulky face that you think is supposed to be mimicking your face.

you shrug your shoulders and smile in disbelief. "it's just my face! sir, if it matters to you, i think you're great. i enjoy your lectures, and i promise i'll be more active from now on" you wave your hands and get up to leave. gojo follows after you.

he lays a hand on your shoulder to keep you still.

"that's not it, is it? you missed something"

"e-excuse me?" what the fuck is wrong with this guy?

"tell me i'm handsome" gojo looks into your eyes. his piercing gaze makes you freeze in place. his face is too close to yours, you feel even more embarrassed to know he can see you blushing.

"t-that's not very appro-"

"oh come on! i know you want to say it" he smiles.

hypocrite.

you are a hypocrite. if this was any other person, you would have been scared shitless. yet here you are; heart beating fast, empty minded, an uncomfortable wetness growing stronger.

the sexual tension is so strong. you feel nervous, whatever you say will break the tension or make it reach its breaking point. and you don't know which one you prefer.

you stay silent.

gojo looks into your big eyes, face so close that you wonder if he'll kiss you anytime soon.

"if you're not gonna admit, i'll help you with it" he steps back. "sit on the desk" he orders, voice dark and strong. you stand in disbelief. gojo walks over to his desk while slowly taking off his watch. "you comin' or not?"

you walk over to his desk and sit obediently. your legs are closed, your nervousness can be read from your posture.

"don't be shy, you're in good hands" gojo suddenly kneels and places his palms on your knees. he looks up at you with puppy eyes. "may i?"

you bite the inside of your cheeks and nod. you unbutton your pants and rest your palms next to you. satoru grabs the hem of your baggy jeans. you lift yourself as satoru easily takes your jeans off. your baby pink, cotton panties are exposed in a comical way. satoru laughs at the contrast; your heavy and dark makeup, resting bitch face, and all black clothes hide pretty pink underwear under it. and satoru feels like one hell of a lucky man to be able to witness this.

satoru slides his hand in between your legs and lightly separates them, exposing your sopping panties. satoru's delighted to see you as excited as him. after all, you seemed scared at first.

his soft, juicy lips lay soft kisses all across your plump skin as he makes his way up to your panties. his demeanor suddenly changes, and he rips your panties beastly. one hand lowers your body further to reveal your folds better. satoru doesn't wait another second.

gojo licks your folds, all the way from your hole to cilit. his tongue masterfully dances around the delicate skin, and runs around your clit. your shy moans fill the office room. you cherish the view below you. his broad shoulders are about to rip through his expensive shirt, white hair buried between your legs, long fingers gripping your legs firmly. he plants a firm kiss on top of your clit that makes you shiver. he sucks on the delicate skin and leaves it with a tiny plop sound. he continues untill you're a moaning mess. and god, you hate to admit this, but she was right. he knows how to fuck good.

"gosh, do you do this to all of your students?" the sudden adrenaline rush takes over you, but the embarrassment follows quickly after. for a second, you're scared he'll get mad and stop, but he doesn't.

"i don't. but don't think you'll be my favorite student after this or something" he looks at you with half lidded eyes.

his warm tongue fucks your wet hole until you feel weak in your knees. you wonder how good his cock feels if he can entertain you this much with his tongue. his tongue pushes inside your hole, letting your sweet juices roll down to his throat. he's so amused at how much you're enjoying yourself, it makes his excitement only grow harder. in a few seconds, he'll fuck you till you can't walk out his office.

"s-sir!" you squirm with his touch.

"yes?" he looks up in a mischievious manner and makes gesture at you, as if you were raising a hand to speak. you roll your head back and laugh before grabbing his hair and pushing him back in.

satoru lays a flat tongue on your clit. the pressure is enough to make your legs twitch. he holds himself there for a moment, waiting for your to beg for more. and you do, you really do.

satoru runs his tongue up and down on your clit, making the pointy tip of his tongue push the skin further as he runs his tongue back up with each lap. the pointy tip draws circles around your clit, around and around. god, he feels so good. he might even cum if he continues more. it's the first time he's ever felt so good giving head to someone. your helpless little squeaks, your shy face and confident hand buried in his hair...

knock knock

you quickly turn around to face the door

"professor gojo? i brought the books" a male voice calls. "can i come in?"

gojo gets up with a sinical smirk on his face, and gently pushes you by your back down.

"give me a second!" he shouts at the door as he takes off his belt and lays it under the desk. he sits down on his chair and calls you down with his two fingers. you instantly obey, kneeling down to his knee level. gojo pushes his chair further under the desk so that you can't be seen. you quickly unbutton his jeans before gojo calls the man inside.

you grab the hem of his underwear and push it down to expose his hard cock. it's dark, your view is limited, but you make the best of it. you hear footsteps get closer, so you hold your breath. you hesitate, you're terrified of getting caught.

"so, about tomorrow's meeting..." a faint voice fills your surroundings. your heart beats fast, and your hands shakily grab his tip.

gojo's surprised at this hesitation. maybe you really do need some help after all. he pretends to listen to what the man is yammering away about. he sneaks his hand down to table and cautiously pushes your head to mouth his length. the sudden push startles you, but it gives you the push you needed.

once gojo's palm leaves your head, you start slowly taking in his dick. you hear him exhale casually, before he responds to the man. he's big, so it takes you a while to fully take him inside. you pull your head back, and lick along his cock.

"...so i figured we would go with another plan..." gojo continues. once you swirl your tongue around his tip, licking the thick precum, finally getting a taste of him. you hear his voice shake for a second. satoru pretends to cough. he must be sensitive on his tip, you figure, and focus on teasing his tip.

you start rubbing his length where your mouth can't reach. every time you release his cock, you quickly swirly your tongue on his tip so that he shakes slightly, making him shift in his chair to not expose your affair to the clueless man. you repeat: suck, pump, release, twirl. suck, pump, release, twi-

satoru spasms on his chair once again as your tongue touches his tip. you think he's cumming for a moment, but those thoughts disappear once you feel a strong hand grab you by your hair, pulling you away from his cock.

"see you tomorrow, satoru" the man says before he leaves the room. with the door closing, satoru pulls back. in a moment, you find yourself picked up like a cat and sat on the table.

"you think you're funny?" gojo growls. "teasing me like that? in front of my colleague?" his eyebrows are furrowed and jaw is clenched. he looks terrifying.

"i-i thought you wanted me to-"

"getting spoiled, hm? do you need to be disciplined?" it's almost as if gojo was searching for a reason to be mad at you, to fuck you like you mean nothing to him.

before you could respond, gojo discards your crop top and leaves you bare chested and cold. satoru can't decide whether the twitching of his dick is caused by the shock of you not wearing a bra to meet your professor or how arousing your perky, plump tits look in front of him. whatever it is, it's enough to make his beasty look go darker.

gojo hisses with what feels like frustration. he wants you, he wants you now, and he cannot waste another second. in a moment, you're pressed down onto the desk, on your chest with two strong hands pulling your ass up high. the wooden desk is warm, yet the hotness of your body combined with the cooler desk makes your body shiver. it doesn't help that gojo's teasing your entrance with his tip either. you whine under his touch, signaling him to go further in. he's amused at your neediness. you want to use your words, but you end up only being able to whine and groan. it's cute, adorable. satoru wonders how you'd be once he's done with you.

"what should i do?" gojo teases. he places his tip in your entrance, only for your hole to stretch enough to take the head in. the feeling is overwhelming even now, and you know it will hurt once he fully inserts himself.

well, they don't say curiosity kills the cat for no reason.

"p-please, f-fuck..." you whisper, tears pooling in your eyes slowly as frustration and tension grow bigger.

"hm? what was that?" gojo leans in closer to your face, making his cock enter a little more. you whimper with the new feeling. it's more painful, yet somehow very intimate.

"p-please..." you quietly respond again.

"we talked this through. speak up, don't be shy!"

you squeeze the papers scattered on the table, trying to from words, but your mind is blank.

"embarrassed? if it helps, princess, no one can hear you" gojo whispers. the irony. gojo satoru, the nonchalant extrovert that warns you in a craven tone; and you, the shy, anxious little girl, soon screaming your lungs out, begging him to fuck you.

"god, just fuck me!" you scream. it's the start gojo needed, and finally, he can unleash himself into you.

gojo slides his length inside without waiting for you to adjust to him fully. your walls stretch and shrink within a second, as he pulls himself almost completely before entering himself fully once again. your wet hole takes him fully, squeezing every inch of his thick cock. your walm, velvety walls make gojo dizzy with pleasure. his voice switches from manly groans to helpless whimpers. and you, gosh, you're a complete mess. your hair falls over your face, but you're too busy getting railed into oblivion to pick it up. you helplessly grab the edges of the desk in an attempt to gather yourself, but it's no use. the only thing you can do is scream out his name, the only thing you can think of.

"fuck..." gojo hisses into your ear. he grabs a fistful of your hair, finally opening your face. he grabs you closer to his chest and holds you in position by your throat as he uses his other hand to help you catch the rhythm of his thrusts. your back instantly arches, and you need to hold on to his tighs to not fall off. you gasp for breath as he mercilessly pounds into you behind your back. the slapping sounds are too far away from you. your vision gets blurry. it feels good, it shouldn't feel good, but it does. he moves as if he wants to hurt you, to take revenge. he's ruthless, contrary to how softly he kissed your cunt and how sweet he called your name earlier.

"yeah? feels good, hm?" gojo turns your face to his. your wet eyelashes, red cheeks wet with tears, mouth shiny with saliva... what a view he had. and him; his white hair always perfectly in place is now all over his forehead, sweat glistening his long neck, and tight muscles showing under the thin fabric of his shirt. and his eyes... his eyes screaming wildly, violently; yet his gaze is soft and caring. gojo realizes too, as he loosens his grip on your neck, and slows down his tempo. you inhale, cheeks puffed up and head slightly tilted back. gojo takes advantage of the vulnerability of the moment. satoru's soft lips lock with yours in a passionate kiss. he holds your chin in place, and you help him by grabbing his wrist. his tongue dances over yours, and all over your lips. wetness covers your lips. it's messy, you both miss your lips as satoru continues thrusting, but it's more romantic this way. you're both craving each other, something neither of you had realized before this exact moment. your heart beats even faster for a second, as you want to be like this forever. even with his most violent desire, he's so caring and romantic. you know it's all meaningless, that none of these matter, and that your affair will meet its end once he decides he's had enough. so you want to be in this moment forever.

"don't stop" you breathe in his mouth and look into his eyes. satoru's cock twitches inside you, his pace slows down. he slips himself out. did you say something wrong? did he realize what he's doing?

you look at him, confused. satoru's face is impossible to read, he just stands there looking at you. the sudden silence makes you anxious once again. you back up and hit your leg into the desk.

satoru grabs you by your leg as you almost lose your balance. he gently pushes you down by your shoulders and sits you down. he lowers his body before grabbing your knees and making you wrap them around his hips. he unbuttons his shirt but doesn't take it off. his toned abs are finally exposed. you examine every curve on his body, his chest.

satoru locks his lips with yours again. he's softer now. it's like he's known you since forever, like his tongue knows how it's supposed to move inside your mouth. this time, you don't shiver, but a warmness follows down your spine. you cusp his cheek as you deepen the kiss.

there you are, warm light framing your bodies under the sunset, bodies locked. where you end is where satoru begins. your bodies move in harmony. he gently rolls his hips into you, and you lift your hips to meet his. not leaving each others' embrace for a second. what happened so suddenly? is this the beast you were so scared of?

"yes... yes..." you moan into his mouth.

"yeah? you like it, baby?" he asks with a soft voice. you move your head and bury it into his neck. you grab his broad shoulders under his shirt tightly, making sure you're gentle. but you can't help it, you're about to snap. you dig your nails into his skin. he pants and moans into your ear. his voice gets shaky, he sounds so pathetically needy. you realize he needs you as much as you need him.

satoru holds you closer to his chest and embraces you as he fucks through your climax. his steady pace strengthens the tightness down your abdomen. you feel the tingling travel all over your body, as you beg satoru to continue.

"you close, baby? want me to finish inside you, hm?" he asks with a raspy voice. he already knows the answer.

"sa-satoru..." you breathe into his skin.

"look into my eyes" he calls your name. "fuck, look at my eyes"

you tilt your head and meet his glassy, baby blue eyes. he looks so vulnerable in this moment. satoru kisses you once more before he rests his forehead onto yours. his steady pace doesn't change, as you both wait to reach the end.

the knot inside your body tightens and tightens, until it's impossible to stand it. your body spasms under him, and you can only call out his name.

"satoru!" you squirm, not leaving his touch for a second.

"come on baby, cum for me" he pants. "my pretty little girl, you're doing so good"

you let out one last shaky breath and lose control. you shake and spasm, but satoru holds you tightly in place. he rides your climax, as he chases his own. he plants soft kisses all over your face as you lose your mind. your whole body's tingly, mind fuzzy, and numb. you stay there, watching satoru's breath get faster.

you grab both of his cheeks and look into his eyes. you don't look away or move, you hold him in place. his shiny eyes look into yours, amazed at how beautiful you are, how pretty you are for him. and how you're his, in this moment, he's yours.

satoru moves hips further once more before his thrusts stop. his moves come to a full stop. he doesn't avert his gaze, as he slaps his hips into you once more. the warmness washes over you as he empties himself deep inside you. satoru whispers your name, followed by a shaky moan. he stands still for a second, lets his cock rest inside you for a moment as you both stand in silent. he's lost in your embrace, and so are you.

all your anxieties from earlier wash away. he's right, he definitely made sure you like him. and all the papers you ruined, the ones he's supposed to show his students, he will have to think about later.

"you really are very handsome"

gojo's comeback might have taken shorter than mine, but hey, better late than never right? lol anyways, sorry for the long wait and sorry, this isn't the unboxing smut. i suddenly felt the urge to write another jjk teacher/student fic but it's a little more legal now at least. i'm also obsessed with gojo again. hope you enjoyed your meal! (ok but why do my snopsises lowkey eat harder than the fic itself)

this was... easier than i thought it would be. i missed writing so much and haven't felt this much fun and ease writing anything in such a long time! i'm so excited for jjk season 2 and the manga's progress. i think this is another jjk summer yall. also, i'm doing an unofficial internship this summer! so, since i like being active when i'm busy with daily life stuff, who knows, i might become active again

hope you guys liked it! see you next time you horny emo slut ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

[helpallthenamesaretaken]

The Judo Flip Scene; The Scene that Divided the Percy Jackson Fandom: What Went Wrong?

Annabeth grabbed his wrist and flipped him over her shoulder. He slammed into the stone pavement. Romans cried out. Some surged forward, but Reyna shouted, “Hold! Stand down!”

Annabeth put her knee on Percy’s chest. She pushed her forearm against his throat. She didn’t care what the Romans thought. A white-hot lump of anger expanded in her chest—a tumor of worry and bitterness that she’d been carrying around since last autumn.

“If you ever leave me again,” she said, her eyes stinging, “I swear to all the gods—”

Percy had the nerve to laugh. Suddenly the lump of heated emotions melted inside Annabeth.

“Consider me warned,” Percy said. “I missed you, too.

-Mark of Athena

This scene is one of the, if not most, controversial scenes in the entirety of Rick Riordan's books. It has caused many fans to go deep into the morality of the scene--into the question of boundaries, whether it is just a good boundaries into Percy and Annabeth's relationships or just abusive behaviour. In this post, I will talk about my opinion on, 'What went wrong?'

First, let us dissect this scene, shall we? We have Annabeth, who has lost her only proof of permanence for six months. The guy she was dreading would die for five years before she thought they had their happy ending was suddenly snatched in a time where she thought life couldn't get any better. During this time;

she saw jason falling in love with piper and was stressed that percy would be doing the same without her

she was stressed percy would never even remember her.

she canonically spent hundreds and thousands of drachmas (and probably time too) on iris messaging every monster and god she could just so that she could find him

she spent a WHOLE lot of energy on this.

she was probably advised by people in camp to find another guy, probably got these comments regularly

she was also troubled by athena's roman form to find athena parthenos statue and ditch finding percy, which must have been hard to handle

she was in charge of helping build a WHOLE WAR SHIP

she was also in charge of rebuilding the home of the gods

And you know what? It makes sense that she would have all of these emotions buried inside her. It makes sense that she would be angry, stressed, and depressed and that she would bury all of this inside. "During their separation, something had happened to Annabeth’s feelings. They’d grown painfully intense—like she’d been forced to withdraw from a life-saving medication. Now she wasn’t sure which was more excruciating—living with that horrible absence, or being with him again" Yep, homegirl was going through some stuff.

Though we don't know what his thoughts were on his point of view, from the fact that he laughs and never brings it up later, we can conclude that Rick wanted us to know that he didn't care, and that these interactions are common between both of them, though one could argue that isn't really reliable.

So; Annabeth having an outburst of emotions is a completely normal reaction, judging the amount of things she has gone through, even though it isn't the right way to express her feelings. But, why is the judo flip scene actually bad? Why did it give even percabeth shippers the ick?

The Way Rick Wrote It: Rick treated the scene as if it was funny, Annabeth was such a girly girlboss who did it to keep Percy in his place. "I only judoflip my boyfriend". And people were mad. Mad that girls are portrayed to be girlbosses by making them violent. Mad that this violence was against a guy who was implied to be abused in his childhood.

My Argument: This scene was written in a time where media with violent comedy was popular among kids (tom and jerry, oggy and the cockroaches, i see you), and that it aged badly. Another important thing: a lot of the fandom also thought of it as percabeth's most romantic moments, and hyped it up so much, which contributes towards the whole ick of the scene.

My Argument: One thing to take into account was that the romans were really on guard when the greeks arrived. they were scared it was going to be an ambush. so when annabeth judoflips percy, their nerves took over. i fully believe the humor of 'i only judoflip my bf' was just their way of diffusing a potentially dangerous situation of misunderstanding.

But in the end I do agree, the way this was written was a major disservice to the feelings that Annabeth was experiencing that time. Rick failed to portray that scene as an exhausted traumatised teenager having an unhealthy outburst of emotions, which is what it really was. Instead, he tried to make it a funny type of scene, and the fandom carried it forward by hyping the scene up as if it was one of percabeth's most romantic moments, and even though the intentions were good, he failed to convey the meaning behind what they said properly.

So now that we've answered the question this post was made for, I'd like to end this post with a positive note. I'd like to point out that in cotg, there is no moment that annabeth physically hurted (hurted is too much of an overstatement) percy if you think about it, which shows that she has improved. If you want proof, I searched any time where Annabeth teased percy physically when he said something 'stupid' and what I found was 'nudged me with her toe' and 'lightly pinched me'. So, even though Rick messed up in writing that one scene more than ten years ago, it's safe to say he has improved.

****************************************************************

[from-the-clouds]

bad liars (savior complex ii) - joel miller x f!reader

part one | masterlist | song inspo |

Baby, you're a vampire You want blood and I promised...

summary: It's been a month since Joel has last seen you, fully healed since your last interaction. But you haven't spoken...at all. Your radio silence becomes cause for concern when he hears about an outbreak of Infected at the hospital where you work. There's enough explanation in this part that you could read it on it's own, probably, but I'd highly recommend reading part one first to get the full experience. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 7.9k warnings: SMUT - 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. (porn w/ plot, unprotected sex, oral, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, age gap. dom/sub dynamics.) Heavy angst, multiple POVs, implied drug abuse, alcohol use, canon-typical suffering! Blood mention. Both reader/Joel are insanely emotionally unavailable, and love to lie to themselves and each other! (please dm for specifics if you have any questions). a/n: Ya'll loved savior complex and I'm so happy! Literally don't think I've had a fic get that many notes before, i had so many requests for a part two and because it felt like i left things open-ended enough, this came to me pretty easily! It might be the horniest thing I've ever written and also very angsty (what's new?)....but I think you'll like the ending <3 Special to @ay0nha for letting me yell at you about my writing and to @zbeez-outlet for the wonderful idea.

Joel exhales and runs his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair – the tips of which were frozen together from standing outside for so long. It had gotten cold out. Very cold. Boston always did this time of year, and because of it, people stayed in, and crime in the QZ dropped, making it a safer place - though that wasn’t saying much. 

Of course, the cold didn’t stop him from dealing. It did make his job a hell of a lot more difficult, since FEDRA was bored, out looking for trouble, and didn’t have more pressing matters to attend to. Although today, he must’ve been in luck, because the only sign of FEDRA had been helicopters and tanks that were clearly on a mission, driving to the opposite side of the QZ. Good, he had thought. A distraction. 

Joel leans back against the brick wall of the alleyway, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his ears, stares at the ice in the cracks of the pavement. When he hears the crunch of gravel underfoot, he straightens.

The man approaching looks nervously over his shoulder, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his flimsy sweatshirt. Dave, a customer of his for some time. 

“You’re late,” Joel doesn’t bother with a proper greeting.

“I know, I know, I got held up on my way here,” Dave answers, immediately beginning his excuse. “They cleared out the hospital because of an outbreak, that whole area was locked down so I had to take the long way.”

“Outbreak?” Joel tilts his head.

“Infected. I guess a bunch of hospital staff got bit. FEDRA had to go in and put them all down.” 

Joel feels a distant pang of concern somewhere in the back of his head. “How many?”

Dave shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know, man, that’s all I know. It’s not like they’ll ever tell anyone what actually happened.”

Joel can’t help but think of you. He knows a couple people who work at the hospital, most of them through smuggling, but you’re the only one who he’s really able to bring to mind at the moment.

“So, can we, uh…”

Joel pulls the plastic baggie out from his pockets, fishing out the pills. On his end, Dave produces a wad of credits, his shoulders sagging in relief once they’ve made the trade and the drugs are in his hand. He takes one immediately, shoves the rest in his pocket. “Thanks man, I’ll see you next week?”

Leaning back against the wall, he nods, and watches his customer disappear down the alleyway. 

The second Dave is out of sight, Joel’s chest tightens, and he takes a deep breath. There’s no reason why news of Infected at the hospital should concern him. If FEDRA had been called in – they would’ve gunned down anything that moved until it was under control. He knew, better than anyone, that they would do unspeakable things in the name of keeping order. Innocent people probably died, but the dead can’t get infected.

It had been about a month since Joel had last seen you, after he’d gotten beaten within an inch of his life and ended up on your doorstep, and you were the only person that could help. It hadn’t gone at all how he expected it would – at the end of the day, he had been surprised by your tenderness. 

Still, despite that you’d let him take you on the edge of your bed, legs wrapped around him, bouncing on his cock, he wouldn’t really say that it changed anything about your relationship. He had actually been kind of afraid that it would, that your attitude towards him would shift to something more amicable.

But you hadn’t spoken to him in a month. Joel had told you he owed you one after you stitched him up, and had anticipated that you’d take him up on his offer pretty quickly. There were so many things he could do for you to make your situation better. Maybe you’d need credits…. Medicine…. Food…. Booze… Pills, something, but you haven’t reached out. You could just be biding your time until you really need the favor.

Still, the radio silence takes him aback. He should be relieved that you aren’t talking to him. But nothing? Even if it’s not about a favor…he wants some kind of confirmation that you’d both made a mistake. After all that, did you really expect nothing from him?

It dawns on him there’s now a chance you’ll never speak to him again, because you’re one of the ones that FEDRA killed. Or worse….you had gotten bit. 

Joel passes by the hospital, taking the long way home. Everything is locked down, taped off. There’s a crowd around the place – family members, he assumes, pleading with FEDRA agents for information and getting nothing in return.

“Go home. I’m sure they’ll turn up,” he hears one of them say to a weeping woman. It’s useless to ask for an honest answer, for one of them to actually care. 

Joel could go home. He could crush a couple pills, snort them, and quell the burn with a couple drinks. He could fall into restless sleep and wake up the next day as he always did, go about his business as usual. Survive. One day at a time. 

Would he ever get confirmation that you’re alive? Because at this rate, he’s not sure he’ll ever know either way. 

The feeling is going to linger. He hates it. Were you gone? If you are, he can handle knowing. Its somehow worse not to. 

He tries to justify it to himself. You’re one of his solid connections to the hospital, you’d traded with him for medical supplies before. This is business, really, if he thinks about it that way. If you’re dead, he and Tess need to find someone else to work with. 

Joel decides to take a detour on the way back to his place.

It’s past curfew when he arrives at your apartment, the sun has long since dipped below the horizon and with that comes an even harsher cold. Boston winters, he thinks to himself. If he is capable of missing anything, he’d say he missed Texas. Before all this, the last place he’d be caught dead was on the East Coast. 

Joel raps on your front door. He forgets how shitty your building is, that you sleep here alone every night, listening to your neighbors arguing through the thin walls, shady characters slinking out of shadows in the dimly-lit hallway,

A few seconds pass. When he hears nothing behind your door, he knocks again, a little louder. 

More time passes. He knocks again, louder. Maybe you didn’t hear him. 

Nothing. He does it again. Could you be asleep? His jaw clenches.

Still nothing, and Joel knocks even louder. Maybe you’re not even here, and you work nights, and he’s just missed you as you head out for another shift. But he knows that’s unlikely. Since he’s known you, you’ve never worked nights. So where the fuck were you?

Joel’s pounds on your door, yells your name into its chipping paint. He listens for something, anything, on the other side, and there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, but he keeps going The side of his fist starts to hurt, but he can’t stop himself. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until he hears one of your neighbors yelling from the end of the hallway. 

‘Shut the fuck up!’

Joel doesn’t hear exactly where the voice comes from, but it’s enough to snap him out of it. He halts his movements, his forehead falling against hollow wood, and in the silence, hears his heart pounding in his ears. 

“Fuck!” he kicks the wall just outside the frame of your door so hard the drywall gives, leaving a hole behind. “Fuck.”

He stares at the result of his outburst for an undetermined amount of time. You were all alone. To his knowledge, you had no immediate family to inform. Who would be around to remember you? He’d never really know for sure what had happened. 

“Joel?”

He looks up, his hands still clenched tightly into fists. When he sees that it’s you, standing at the end of the hallway, they loosen. 

You look horrible - haggard, tired, your hair tangled and matted. As you move closer to him, he doesn’t miss the way your shoulders are hunched underneath the weight of your backpack. But once you’re standing in front of him, you straighten, lift your chin. 

“What is this?” you ask. “What are you doing here?”

There’s no animosity in your tone, he thinks. You might be trying to put some in there, but you don’t have the energy to do so, so it just comes out sounding very flat.

Joel realizes, suddenly, that he doesn’t have a reason. A real reason that wouldn’t….give him away. He puts his hands on his hips, thinks desperately. You do nothing to help.

When he settles in silence, offers you nothing, you just sigh and shake your head. Your teeth are chattering, lips cracked from the cold, and you seem desperate to get into shelter, twisting your key into your lock and opening the front door. Once you step inside, you flick on the lights. He follows you, closes the door behind you both, and locks it.

“Oh, yeah, come on in, I guess,” you say over your shoulder. 

Joel crosses his arms, standing in your kitchen. 

“What, am I in trouble or something?” you ask. “Because if I am, you’re gonna have to wait until I’ve showered.”

“It can wait,” Joel says, and sits at one of your kitchen chairs. 

You shrug off of your backpack and leave it on a chair, then unbutton your coat, tossing it on top. Joel swallows hard when he sees the damage it’s been hiding. Your scrubs are dirty, tattered in some places, one of the sleeves hanging, partially ripped off. And they’re covered in dried blood. It’s smeared on your arms, on the back of your neck. Not yours, he hopes. 

What the fuck happened to you? You don’t turn to see his reaction, don’t look over your shoulder to see if he’s going to ask about it. It’s almost like he’s not even there, and you clearly wish he isn’t. 

He realizes then, that he has the confirmation he’s looking for. You made it out alive. He doesn’t actually need anything else from you. And you’ve given him a perfect out. He can leave while you’re in the shower. 

But he doesn’t. Not when he hears the shower start, or the screech of the curtain across the metal rod, the sound of water hitting the basin. He stays there, motionless, until you duck out of the bathroom with your arms wrapped around yourself, wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, hair damp and teeth chattering. 

You pad with bare feet onto the tiled area of the kitchen, brushing past him. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” he asks. 

You finally look at him, like you’re surprised he spoke up, or even asked the question. A choked, bitter laugh leaves you, and you shift your attention away from him, reaching into your cabinet for a bottle of bourbon. “Pass.”

You pour yourself a whiskey, and Joel watches you throw it back in one go, your nose scrunching up, your hand clasping into a fist as you take the shot. The taste doesn’t stop you from pouring another drink and gulping that one down, too, without as much of a reaction as the first. It’s only when you start pouring the third that he intervenes, standing and crossing the room to cover the glass with his hand before you can grab it. 

“Slow down,” he says.

“I know you’re not telling me what to do in my own home.” Your mouth opens as you look up at him, incredulous. 

Joel looks past you, shakes his head. He supposes your right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to watch the self-destructive behavior, which is funny considering how often he engages in it himself. He gives in, removes his hand from your glass. “At least…pour me one. You shouldn’t drink alone.”

Your expression softens slightly, and he’s able to see all the pain you’re hiding, just for a flash, before you turn to retrieve a second glass from your cabinet. 

Once you hand him the whiskey, he sits in the middle of the tiny loveseat you’ve got in your front room, expecting you to sit in the armchair across from it. Instead, you approach with your own drink, nudge his knee with your own, and Joel slides over to make room so you can fall onto the couch beside him. Much closer than he’d expected. 

It’s surprisingly good bourbon, and he wonders how many times you’d wasted it by downing it like you just had, instead of taking your time, savoring. He waits for you to get settled before he speaks again.

“What happened to you?” he tries once more, a little softer this time. 

There’s some contemplation on your end, you look at him for a moment, then at your glass, then back up at him again. He can almost see you trying to figure out how much you’re going to share, but he wants to know everything.

“There was an accident at the hospital,” you answer, finally. 

Joel slings his arm over the back of the couch, angles his body towards where you’re curled up, legs tucked underneath you. I’m listening.

Your voice stays even, blase. “A guard at the border broke protocol…and someone who was infected was brought in. By the time we realized, it was too late….”

“Were you hurt?” 

“Almost.” you say. “I mean, yes, actually, I’m a little scratched up, but…it’s not as bad as it could’ve been.”

Your teeth start chattering again. Joel wonders if it’s because of the cold, or your nerves. Figures it’s probably both.

“My coworker turned and I uhm….I had to…” you say into your glass, your free hand flexing like it’s trying to shake off some unpleasant muscle memory. “I had no choice.”

“I understand,” For whatever reason, he spares you from telling the story. To him, taking down Infected was nothing. But to you…“What else?” he presses.

You shrug, avoiding his eyes, one of your arms coming to grip at your opposite shoulder. “I can’t really remember. A bunch of people died. FEDRA came in and just started gunning everything down….” you shook your head, and straightened up.

“I heard about that,” Joel offers.

“Wait…you knew about this?”

“Yeah.”

“So then why are you here, asking m-” the rest of your sentence drops off, your lips parted slightly. The look on your face shifts, slowly. Your eyes narrow. Remorse turns into something more neutral, then into curiosity. “Oh my god….you were worried about me.”

“No.”

“Yes, you fucking were,” your lips curl slightly, it’s not quite a smile, but it’s something close to amusement. 

“No,” Joel defends himself. “I wanted to hear what happened from someone–”

“No you didn’t,” you interject, but he raises his voice to finish his thought.

“–who actually works there, not FEDRA’s propaganda.”

“No you did not. You’re checking up on me. You came over here after curfew to see if I was–”

“Enough,” Joel growls with enough conviction that it shuts you up, and he’s grateful, but its not enough to wipe the self-satisfied look on your face, because it doesn’t.

“What are we, like, friends now?”

He doesn’t answer, and slugs back the rest of his whiskey.

“Or would that be too much for you?” You don’t wait long for him to give you an answer, probably because you know he won’t respond. “I mean, if we’re both being honest–” He definitely wasn’t being honest. “–Today was really fucked up.”

You’re leaning forward now, some of the space between you is gone. And though you’re trying to give the impression that you’re unphased by everything, your hand is clenched tightly around your glass, and you avoid his eyes. It’s painful to watch you resist the urge to trust him. Not that he’s ever given you a good enough reason to – he knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he wants it anyways.

“It’s funny…” you say after a while. “I remember thinking that I didn’t want to die. At least… not like that. I’ve never felt that before…That’s something, isn’t it?” you ask him. 

Joel looks at you, and is surprised at the vulnerability in your expression, sees you looking for some kind of validation from him. “....It is.” 

You finish off your drink, and put the empty glass on the coffee table, shift closer to him.

“It looks like you healed up okay,” you say, after a spell. “How’s your shoulder?”

“A little sore, nothing I can’t handle.”

“Did you take those antibiotics?”

“Yes.”

“Good. And I can’t even tell you had a black eye.”

“I’m fine,” Joel asserts. 

Another shiver wracks your body, and he can tell this one is actually from the chill – your apartment is cold as fuck, it even is starting to bother him. 

“Don’t you have a heater?”

“Kinda,” you glance over at the radiator in the corner. “Sometimes it works.”

“What do you do when it’s colder than this?” It was only November, things would only get worse. 

You shrug. “I don’t know….just be colder, I guess.”

Joel imagines you curled up in your bed alone, wrapped in a thin comforter, shaking in front of him like you are now. He winces. 

“How long are you going to stay?” you ask, changing the subject.

“I should probably go now.”

You nod, scoot closer. “But maybe…” you trail off, contemplating. 

Joel sits up straighter, prompting you when you don’t speak again. “Maybe what?”

“Maybe you could stick around for a little while longer.” There’s a warm hand, yours, that lands on his thigh, and he recoils like you’ve touched him with a fire iron. He rises to his feet. 

“Hey,” you stand along with him, step in front of him to block the pathway to the door. He could easily get past you, obviously, but it’s not as simple as that. 

Of course he’s fucking thought about what happened the last time he was here – his arms around your waist, his mouth on your neck, your chest, your hands on his shoulders, whining his name. A freak accident, a glitch in the matrix, a statistically improbable thing. 

“What?” he asks as you step forward, the fingers on your free hand sliding into the belt loops of his pants. He feels blood rush to his cheeks, to other places. And you’re still fucking shivering. You look so fucking miserable, he wants to yell at you to put on a coat, to wrap yourself in a blanket, in his arms. 

“Joel,” you say his name softly, tilting your head up, leaning close. And then your hand is on the side of his face, and he realizes you’re fucking pleading with him. He knows what you want, but he has a feeling this isn’t just about sex. You’re looking for comfort, as if he’s capable of giving it. 

“We made a mistake…once,” he tells you. “We’re not going to make it again.”

He says it to hurt you, but it doesn’t work. It’s like you knew it was coming all along. “I knew what I was doing,” you answer, earnest. “Didn’t you?”

Yes. You glance down at his hands, which are squeezed into fists so tightly, his knuckles are white. If he’s not rigid, he’s not sure how he’ll be able to resist. He wants you. God, he wants you. He never thought he’d be able to have you again. 

“I could help you loosen up.”

Joel’s walking on the edge of a one-thousand foot cliff and hoping his foot slips. He wants to surrender. The only thing he thinks might save him is to say the meanest thing he can. Maybe you’d get turned off.

“Listen to yourself,” he says, finding the strength to meet your eyes. “You want me so bad, you sound pathetic.”

“Asshole,” you step closer, your mouth twitches, your lips are inches apart. “Do you think I care what you think about me?”

Joel realizes his plan has backfired. But he really only has himself to blame, he should’ve known better. With you, he’s never in as much control as he wants to be, and deep down, he likes it. 

“Go lie down on the bed.”

It’s the only thing that seems to shock you. “What?” 

“I won’t ask you again,” Joel steps backwards, crosses his arms. “Go lie down.” 

──────

If you told yourself a couple months ago that one day you’d find yourself pinned down by Joel Miller, you’d think it’d be because he was about to kill you. Maybe because you cheated him out of something, maybe because you did something else to piss him off – it didn’t really matter. Regardless of how fucked up it was, that idea would seem more dignified than what was happening now. 

Your back is being pressed deeper into the lumpy old mattress, and he’s on you. His mouth is warm, hot, wet, and dragging down your neck, nipping, sucking, licking. Your hands are itching to reach out, to skate down his torso, trace along his jawline, tug at his hair, but you can’t because he’s got them pinned above you with only one of his own. Anytime you try to fight him, his grip only grows stronger. 

It was shameful, really, but you had asked for this – begged for it, basically. There were a number of reasons why – one of which was to blow off some steam after a near death experience, the other because you’d fucked him before and it had been good, much to your dismay. There was also a third reason that you weren’t interested in acknowledging now. 

After the night Joel had gotten jumped, and you’d taken care of him, everything has changed. It’s a cliche, but true. You’d known what you were doing when it happened, and had no regrets. But it was probably not supposed to happen again, and you tried to keep it that way, more for his sake than anyone else’s. But….he was the one who showed up tonight after he’d heard what had happened. It wasn’t nothing.

Joel pulls away from you so abruptly that you gasp, shivering in the wake of his impossible warmth. 

“Sit up,” he instructs, and you turn to find him at the end of the bed, arms crossed. 

You obey, mostly just for the view. You hope to admire him, fresh from kissing you – flush skin, wet lips, tousled hair. Only he’s frustratingly stoic, unsullied – like he hadn’t been touching you at all. 

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. 

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s nothing,” you agree. 

“I won’t be gentle.”

“I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“Good,” you watch his shoulders loosen, just a little, and he takes one step backwards, his eyes tracing down your body and then back up. “Strip for me….” 

You aren’t dressed sexy at all, you remember, a sweatshirt and sweatpants. If you had thought this through a little more, you might’ve tried to make it nicer for him. “....Okay.”

“Start with your shirt,” he says, and you grab at the hem, but he snaps at you. “Ah-ah….slower.”

You swallow, nod, and carefully lift the fabric, dragging it up over your stomach, over the swell of your breasts, revealing your tight, thin white tank top. 

“That’s it, nice and slow.” 

Joel’s voice is soft but stern, a low rasp that makes your cunt clench around nothing, and he’s not even touching you. The sweatshirt is pulled over your head, falling somewhere on the crumpled bedspread. 

Languidly, you lean back, shifting your weight to get off the mattress, and Joel palms himself through his jeans. You can see where he’s straining against the denim, and you find it hard to tear your gaze away as you go to pull off your sweatpants. Joel stops you again. 

“Turn around.”

You do, and you’re sure he has a nice view of your ass as you slide them over your hips, bending over to let the fleece pool around your ankles. Slowly, you rise back up, looking at him over your shoulder for approval. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs. Your stomach flips. A month ago, you would’ve done anything to get him to stay away from you, and now, you’re terrified to disappoint him. 

That’s the problem. You’d spent most of the day fighting for your life — literally. But even after standing behind a barricade of heavily-armed FEDRA soldiers outside the hospital, you didn’t feel as safe as you did when you saw Joel at your door. You need him. For now, at least.

“Now the shirt,” he tilts his head towards the mattress, nodding encouragingly.

You get back on the bed, sitting back on your heels, and begin to pull the tank top up. It’s your last layer up top, you’re not wearing a bra, and you’re feeling a little vulnerable with him just watching you, fully clothed and composed, your gaze falling down to look at the threadbare linens. 

“Eyes up,” he instructs. “Look at me.”

Taking in a shaky inhale, you do. It’s not easy. Everything about him looks dark, animalistic. A coiled ball of energy, waiting to pounce.

But, even when you’re bare before him, he doesn’t. 

“Lie back, close your eyes.”

Of course, you don’t refuse, settling your head against the pillows. 

There’s a sound of a belt – his belt, unbuckling, the snap of a button, the dip of the bed where he kneels when he comes to hover over you. Two hands land on top of your thighs, pressing the backs against his denim-clad knees, thumbs pushing your legs further apart. 

And then…nothing. He’s still. He’s still for so long, that you actually think that something’s wrong. When you open your eyes, you’re met with a view of the underside of his jaw. You can just make out the pinched expression he’s wearing as he looks down upon you. Disdain, maybe…but it’s not meant for you, it’s for someone else….him.

“Joel,” you murmur. Instinctually, you reach for his hand.

The second it makes contact, he smacks your hand away so hard your whole body jolts. “I told you to close your eyes.”

“Sorry,” you mumble quickly, closing them again. 

You are well aware that he’s actively working through shit, probably doing some kind of mental gymnastics to rationalize why it’s okay to fuck you again, which, when you really think about it is kind of….pathetic. It’s the only thing that makes you feel any sort of power in a situation where you’ll surrender everything else. It’s a fair exchange. 

Maybe, on a different day, you would want it softer. You’d like to think he’s capable of that, even though he seems determined he isn’t. Luckily, you don’t want it softer. After today, you want to be so far gone you can’t think. 

Joel answers by leaning down and catching you in a bruising kiss. Finally. You press yourself against him cause you’re freezing and he’s so warm, and you frantically begin to unbutton the flannel he’s wearing, making it about halfway down before he pins your hands above you again.

“Slow down.”

You whine, a little frustrated because all you want to do is touch him. The fingers on his free hand hook around the elastic of your underwear, and he starts to drag them over the curve of your ass. 

He’s got to be joking with how deliberately he’s moving, anticipation only building underneath his featherlight touches.

When he’s got your panties around your ankles, you slide your legs together so he can pull them off entirely, keeping them closed as his weight shifts, and your thighs are pulled back apart.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he doesn’t need to feel you to see it clear as day, with you spread open in front of him. “So fucking desperate.”

He’s all-but glaring at you, like you’ve done something wrong, and for a minute, your eyes flick away, just for a second of relief from the tension.

“What, are you embarrassed?” he asks. 

“N-no,” you stammer, though it was supposed to sound confident. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t press you, his head dipping down to press his lips to your knee, then an inch higher, then an inch higher, then higher – keeping his eyes locked on yours the whole time, an arm winding around your thigh.

“I wanted to do this last time.” A confession. 

“Yeah?” you sigh, trembling. It’s maybe the nicest thing he’s said to you, but you can’t even acknowledge it, because you’re buzzing.

He turns his face, his beard scraping along sensitive skin. “Mhm,” his deep rasp vibrates directly to your cunt, and when his head dips down, you close your eyes – it might just be better to focus on only one sensation at a time, you’re not sure you can handle seeing what he’s about to do.

Joel’s mouth is on you the second you do, and you gasp. He licks up the seam of your lips, mouth latching around your clit, swirling with his tongue, and back down – firm, determined, practiced. You try to buck up, but he has an arm locked around your hips. 

He removes himself from you just enough to utter two words. “Stay still.”

You want to protest, but you realize that he’s let go of your hands, and it gives you the opportunity to thread your fingers into his hair, while you dig your heels into the broad expanse of his back, and he groans, tongue curling into you. 

“I’ve thought about this,” you gasp, answering his earlier admission.

“When?”

“At night. More than once.”

“Fuck,” Joel growls, and you wheeze when he works one finger into you, forcing you to take it along with his next words. “You know how fuckin’ bad that is? Dreamin’ about a man nearly twice your age?”

“I d-don’t care, I want you anyway. Y-you can do whatever you want to me,” It’s too early to be past the point of speaking coherently, it really is, but you’re already there. 

“F-fuck,” Joel repeats himself, and pushes another finger inside you next to the first, the stretch almost uncomfortable, but quickly fading to pleasure. “I’m going to.”

You’re not the going to tell him, though, that he’s the first man whose ever gone down on you, because you’re a little fucking scared for some reason. It’s intimate, very intimate, more than you expected. 

The truth is, you weren’t actually very experienced at all. You could count on one hand the number of partners you’d had, and still not use all of your fingers. While some of them were good enough, they all paled in comparison to Joel. There had never been anyone like Joel. 

His fingers curl as his tongue swirls around your clit and you cry out, inhale sharply. Minute by minute, you’re getting wetter and wetter – can hear yourself with each twist of his fingers inside you, bearing down on him. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he grunts, and your eyes flutter open just for a second, just to see his forehead, dark eyes staring back at you, and his hips dipping, rutting against the mattress. God he’s getting himself off to this. As hot as it is, the thought of not getting to feel him inside you causes a rush of anger. 

“F-feels so good,” you’re right there, already, and it’s pitiful.

“I know, baby, I know,” he says. “You’re already so close, aren’t you?”

Instead of answering, you just nod, gasping. Joel works you right up to the precipice, hands tightening in his hair, hips lifting off the bed – and then he slows a little –  just enough – to pull you back off the edge, and you let out a humiliating sob.

“Shhh!” he hisses with his mouth still on you, resuming the steady pace he had going. A little sigh of relief when you feel your release approaching again. He just lost his rhythm for a moment, it was nothing.

Again, he’s got you right there, you’re so close, hips jerking, breathing in short, sharp pants, something molten working its way up your spine. “Joel, that’s it, please I-”

He falters again – just enough. And it’s gone again.

You realize, with dismay, that he knows exactly what he’s doing. He hadn’t lost his rhythm. He’s doing this on purpose. 

If someone asked – not that anyone would – you wouldn’t be able to recall how long he keeps you in that state, being dragged and dangled, but denied the privilege of falling. It’s torture. 

And at first, you try to be patient. You figure he’ll grow tired, desperate, and eventually want to move on. But apparently, he doesn’t want to move on. He’s content to keep you this way for as long as he sees fit, and you can’t handle it any longer. It’s starting to hurt.

“Please, Joel, let me-” you gasp.

“Let you what?” he pulls back from you, frustratingly too soon, once again.

“Let me come, please, I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, please, please-”

“Just a little longer,” he dismisses you.

All you can do is pant and writhe, completely at his mercy. He keeps going like that, and you’ve stopped trying to filter yourself, the sounds he makes as he laves at you are obscene, you can see yourself glistening on his chin, and can feel the sheets damp beneath you. At this point, he’s enjoying this more than you are.

“Joel,” you plead with him again. “It’s too much, I c-can’t. Just, please I really need-”

“You wanna come for me, baby?” he asks. You nod ferociously. 

“Yes, please, please,” 

“You’re so fucking sweet when you beg, you know that? ” he murmurs. “Wish you were like this all the time.”

“Fuck off,” you manage, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. You should do this to me more often. 

Joel chuckles, and it vibrates just right, his fingers curling again and you moan, hands tightening in his hair. He’s focused now, you can tell because the constant stream of filth he’s been whispering has finally stopped. He’s persistent.

You’re unable to stay quiet, continuing to whimper just like that and please don’t stop over and over. And then all at once, every muscle in your body grows tense and you cry out, cunt pulsing around him so tightly that his fingers slow. “There you go, pretty girl, that’s it.” 

You whisper his name as he continues to fuck his fingers into you, riding you through your orgasm and licking up the mess you’ve made. 

At some point in the aftermath, Joel withdraws from you, and you hear the sting of his zipper. It takes a moment, but you’re able to see him through heavily lidded eyes, kneeling in front of you with his shirt unbuttoned all the way, pants around his ankles, jerking himself slowly in his hand. God he’s fucking huge, how had you forgotten about that? He’s a vision, beard still wet with you, looking down, watching your chest rise and fall. In that moment you realize two things. One, even though you’ve already come, you somehow want him even more than you had before, and two, you’ve never wanted to suck a dick so bad in your life. 

So you sit up, crawl towards him, and reach out with one hand to take him in your palm. He lets you, sighing, closing down his eyes. First, you have to kiss him, so you rise to your knees, and he pulls you into his arms, one of them winding around your waist, the other coming to rest at the small of your back. “You take such good care of me,” you whisper. 

He grimaces at the words like they’re an insult. You expect him to retaliate, to tell you that you shouldn’t say that sort of thing, but he never does. So you kiss him, gently, bringing your free hand to the side of his face. Once again, he lets you, and you taste yourself when his tongue presses into you mouth. You run your thumb over the head of his cock, and he hums against your touch, almost contentedly.

You’re doing whatever you want to him, and you’re shocked he hasn’t put a stop to it. It could be satisfying enough, you think, just to keep kissing him like this. Still, you sink back towards the bed to test things further. You’re about to wrap your mouth around him, but he pulls you off by your hair, so quickly, so hard that you yelp.

“No.” he says firmly. “Lie back.”

“But I just wanted to-”  

“No.” 

You consider trying to reason with him, but decide it won’t be worth whatever he’d do if you continue to argue.

Joel braces himself with one hand above your shoulder, the other wrapped around his cock, slowly teasing you by rubbing himself up and down a few times, before he gives in, finally pushing into you.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp at the stretch, reaching out grasp at his bicep, arching your back. He’d prepped you, and it was still too much. 

“You can take it,” he says, pressing deeper into you. His hips are all the way flush with yours, he’s to the hilt, and he still snaps them even further, once, holding you there, so deep, you feel like you’re choking on him. “See? There you go.”

It seems like you can’t quite catch your breath, and you squirm underneath him for some kind of friction, some kind of relief from how intense it all is. You can feel him throbbing inside you, feel how badly his own body is begging him to move, but he doesn’t. 

“Joel,” you cradle the back of his head, look him in the eyes. “Move, please.”

He doesn’t answer, he just brings his hand to grip your jaw, his thumb and forefinger pressing into the soft flesh of your cheeks. 

“Please?” you murmur again, and his thumb slips into your mouth, silencing you. You suck on it obediently, and after you do, he finally gives you what you want.

──────

Joel told you he wouldn’t be gentle, and he isn’t. 

He hadn’t been able to do this last time. Taste you, spread you open, fuck you properly. His hips snap against yours – ferociously, unrelenting, over and over. You’ve been going at it for awhile now, and he actually wants you to break. He wants you to tell him to slow down, to be a little more tender, not press into you so deep, so hard, so that if he listens, it wouldn’t mean he’s breaking his own promise. He’s got to be rough with you, because he’s afraid of what could happen if he’s not.

But you don’t break. You fucking take it, take him, each time, again and again, your nails digging into arms, your legs locked around his hips. Each time he delves into you, you’re getting wetter and wetter, and yet, you’re still so fucking tight. He doesn’t understand it. It’s been a long fucking time since he’s been with a woman like you – and you might be the best he’s ever had. 

You’re not even making any noise – you’re just panting, gasping in Joel’s ear as you cling to him, and that’s all. He can’t even look you in the eyes. If he does, he knows you’ll see everything that’s wrong with him, and still beg for him to give you more. 

Two hands land on either side of his face, turning his head so you can kiss him. Despite how he’s treating you, you keep trying to connect, to ground yourself. For as much as he wants to refuse, it feels too cruel to deny you. He lets you lock your lips with his own, feels your cunt clutch him even tighter. It’s impossible for you to kiss for more than a few seconds at a time without it getting broken up by a whimper here and there. You’re getting close again, he’s started to get better at recognizing it.

“You’re fucking so perfect on me, baby, you feel that?” he asks, and you nod, breathless. “Taking me so well, such a good fucking girl-”

A gasp from you cuts him off, your eyes squeezing shut as you are taken over by your climax. Joel groans and does everything he can not to come when you start pulsing around him, holding him closer, since there’s nothing else to do. It’s way too intimate…because it’s missionary, and he should’ve known better than to start off like this. 

Pulling out of you is the hardest thing he’s had to do in a while, and he ignores your noises of protest now that he’s left you empty. Then, he flips you onto your stomach. He takes a moment to admire the curve of your ass, how it dips into your waist….to him, your body is perfect, and you’re young, your skin still supple and smooth. There are still places he hasn’t gotten his mouth on, and it’s a shame, he thinks, but tonight his patience is wearing thin. Joel pulls you back until you’re on your knees, and slides back inside. There’s a little resistance, you whimper, but it’s easier than the first time. He wraps an arm around your waist, the other across your chest, and starts to jerk his hips upwards, into you. 

“Oh fuck, Joel,” you sigh in relief.

“I know, I know.”

You drop your head back until it falls against his shoulder, winding your arm back so you can pull at his hair, which kind of fucking hurts, but he likes it. 

Ultimately, you’re pretty easy to please, and it’s not long before he feels the telltale flutter of your walls as you drip down over him, soaking his lap. 

“You’re making a fucking mess, baby. You gonna come for me again?”

All you can do is plead with him. “I can’t, Joel. I can’t do it again, please just-”

“Yes, you can,” he interjects. “I know you can, baby, don’t worry…I’ll help you.”

“O-okay.’ 

He slows the roll of his hips just a little, focuses on deeper, longer strokes, and lets the hand that’s currently squeezing one of your tits fall to where your bodies are joined, finding your clit immediately.

You whine, arching back against him, the swell of your ass packed against his lower stomach. He sees a single tear leaking from the corner of your eye and feels a little guilty for what he’s doing to you. Only a little, though. 

Without any warning, for the third time, you’re coming around him – easier than the last time, like always – and he uses the feeling of you throbbing around him to chase his own release, his hand clapping over your mouth to muffle your moans as he becomes increasingly frantic. 

He turns his head, rakes his teeth along your exposed neck, and sinks them into your pulse point with a groan. Your breath is hot against him when you whimper in response. 

“Just a little more, honey.” He’s so close. You bob your head, though you’ve nearly gone limp in his arms.

Like last time, Joel knows it’s a bad idea, but he’s not going to pull out. The thought of deliberately coming inside you is actually what sends him over the edge, and he’s cursing and moaning your name. You whine at the feeling of him pulsing inside of you, arching back for more, even though he can tell you’re exhausted. 

It’s fucking freezing in your apartment, and yet, his skin is damp with sweat when he finally regains some awareness of his surroundings. He’s panting, you’re sniffling, a weak smile on your face as you catch your breath. Before he can stop himself, he presses his lips to your cheek. 

Joel tilts you both forward – very tentatively, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist. At some point, your hand settled over top of his, and you threaded your fingers between his own, holding his hand across your stomach. You keep it there, even after you’ve settled onto the bed.  

It takes a few minutes before either of you move, but it’s you who gives in first, wriggling out from where he’s got you trapped partially underneath him. 

You retreat to the bathroom, like you did last time. Somewhere during your coupling the linens have slid down the bed, and Joel settles back against the pillows, throwing an arm behind his head.  Now that he’s stopped sweating, he’s just cold, and he reaches to pull the bedspread over him. He should leave, he thinks, before you come out and ask him to. Beat you to the punch. Maybe while you’re still in the bathroom. 

A few minutes later, and you return from the bathroom, dressed again in sweats. He hears you pour yourself a glass of water, gulping it down. You flick off the lamp on your bedside table, and fall into bed next to him, lying rigidly on your back. He should reach out, pull you against him, let you settle in his arms. Instead, Joel rolls over on his side. 

It’s terrible how beautiful you are, he thinks, watching you stare up at the ceiling, hugging yourself. So beautiful, and fucking smart. You’re strong, too, but not as strong as he wishes you were. Of course, no one could ever be that strong.

He whispers your name. You turn your head, pupils still blown wide with lingering lust.

“You need to learn to defend yourself, to shoot a gun, to fight,” he says. “After today.”

“What?” you roll to face him. 

“You said you didn’t want to die,” Joel continues. “So you need to learn. ‘Case something like that happens again.”

“Oh yeah? Lemme guess, you’re gonna teach me?” your voice is a little hoarse after what he’d done to you, and you smirk at him.

“Yes.” It sobers you up, that he’s not fucking with you, or giving you a hard time. “I owe you, remember?” 

“You do.” 

“So…. I’ll teach you.” 

“....Okay.” 

“Alright.”

Joel rolls over to his opposite side, and you’re left staring at his back. Arms wrapped around 

himself in a tight hug, he waits for you to tell him to go.

You never do. 

Instead, he feels the heat of your body as you curl up against him, slotting one of your legs between his own. Your hand grazes up his ribs, over his bicep – a gentle, quick massage – before you tuck your arm underneath his own, your palm flat against his heart. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, frozen at how tender the embrace is. It’s a foreign feeling, he can’t remember the last time someone touched him like this. 

The tip of your nose hits the nape of his neck, and he can feel your shuddery exhale.

“I’m cold,” you say, like it’s obvious, lips brushing featherlight against his skin. “And if you’re staying, you might as well make yourself useful.”

He can’t roll over and wrap his arms around you. He can’t kiss your forehead or play with your hair or murmur into your ear. He can’t offer you anything in return. Joel decides, though, if he’s going to accept comfort from anyone, it’s going to be from you.

──────

taglist (basically if you asked for a pt 2 on the last part i tagged you): @bbyanarchist @dlwrish @imaginewrites24 @captain-yellow-96 @daisyintheskyewithdiamonds @sludgec0r33 @c0wb0ym3nace

[yukidragon]

I'm a bit curious was it ever confirmed that Shaun and Ian interacted with one another or met before the eventual breakup between Ian and MC. If not what are some of your headcanons on this matter would they have gotten along at all?

Actually, yes, it has been confirmed that Shaun and Ian knew each other before Ian and MC broke up in this comic posted over on the official Sunny Day Jack twitter!

Credit as always to Sauce for their awesome artwork and for giving us this hilarious glimpse into college age Ian and Shaun. Consider supporting them and the rest of the SnaccPop Studios team by joining the patreon for even more lore tidbits I can't even mention publicly. Just remember, don't share anything privately posted!

While a lot of teaser/development art should be taken with a grain of salt, if it appears on one of the official pages, it's a pretty safe bet that it's canon to the timeline of the game.

So this comic, also drawn by the awesome Sauce, while hilarious, may or may not be canon.

I think it's a pretty safe bet to say that Ian did not pass Shaun's vibe check.

The first comic certainly makes it clear that Shaun didn't find Ian attractive considering the way he reacted. Maybe it's due to jealousy (I don't think Shaun wants to think about his crush having sex with someone else) or maybe it's because of Ian's bad taste in anime. Who can say?

Content Warnings: This post contains talk of cheating, jealousy, drinking in excess, (unintentional) self-harm, near death experience, SA, issues with sex, and toxic relationships.

I suspect that these two just didn't get along. Between Shaun suffering from jealousy due to his crush and the two of them having different tastes, they were probably only friendly to one another for MC's sake.

I would imagine that Shaun's opinion on Ian took an extreme nosedive when they found out Ian cheated on MC.

Man... can you imagine how much pain Shaun has been through? He had to watch his best friend/crush be happy with someone else... then get devastated by being cheated on. The worst part was if he had bad vibes from Ian from the start, but he ignored his gut feelings for MC's sake.

When it comes to my personal headcanons that I use for Sunshine in Hell... Shaun and Ian had friction since the first day Alice introduced the two of them.

It wasn't just Shaun being jealous of Ian either. Ian was jealous of Shaun too!

Ian has always suffered from a low sense of self-esteem. Shaun, by comparison, is much more well put together, more outgoing, and has this natural charisma that draws people to him. Shaun is just so likable that he gets a lot of attention and friends. For years, Ian was the exact opposite of that, which led to him being bullied and degraded often.

So one day Alice, his childhood friend and partner, is super excited to introduce Ian to her new friend. Shaun and Alice have a lot in common, and it was very visible in the early years of college when Alice was in the middle of her pastel goth phase. Shaun and Alice had a love for horror movies, cats, the goth aesthetic, and a whole bunch of other things. They clicked so quickly, and it scared Ian a little.

It didn't help that Alice had trouble making friends like Ian did. They had that in common, something that gave them a sort of understanding that no one else could intrude on. Now that they were in college they started making more friends, and that was a good thing, really! But Alice clicked with Shaun about as fast as she did with Ian.

In the 1st grade, one day Alice mustered up the courage to talk to Ian in order to cheer him up. After that they started talking every day and they were besties ever since. From there, they started dating. She's never really clicked with anyone else so fast like she did with Ian...

Until Shaun, that is.

Ian kept comparing himself to Shaun, unfavorably. He kept worrying about Alice falling for Shaun instead since, well, clearly Shaun had so much more than Ian had to offer. Why wouldn't she? What didn't help his insecurities was the fact that they had been a couple since high school, but they still hadn't had sex yet.

I integrated the comic into part of Alice and Ian's troubled sex life. The depicted instance was Ian's attempt at making things romantic so that they could finally go all the way.

It took them a while to start being sexually intimate due to their mutual lack of practical knowledge and Alice's SA trauma. She was very cuddly with Ian, not afraid to kiss him or go into a make out session, but she struggled to go further than that for a long time. It left Ian struggling with insecurities, fearing that he wasn't attractive to her despite her constantly reassuring him that wasn't the case.

Really, it was that insecurity and self-blame that pushed Alice to go further than she was ready for, to pretty painful results that she learned to just accept as part of the experience.

Alice is the type of person who can't be comfortable with people touching her unless she trusts them. However, when she gets close to someone, she can get pretty cuddly, even with her friends, giving them hugs often. So, for Ian, seeing his girlfriend get comfortable hugging another guy... someone he might have noticed looking at her a certain way...

Well, getting cockblocked on his rocky road to losing his virginity didn't help Ian see Shaun in a more favorable light.

Really, this was an incident that pushed Ian to be a bit more possessive of Alice. He was already struggling with the fact that his partner was sharing a dorm with someone else, but for Shaun to just casually walk into her bedroom like that without knocking? Ian certainly had permission to come in there without Alice knowing since he's her boyfriend, and he was planning to surprise her with a romantic evening, but how long had Shaun been just letting himself into her private space so casually?

Ian didn't believe that Alice was cheating on him, but what if Shaun decided to take advantage of her? What if this casual blurring of their living space led to feelings blooming?

What if Alice realized that Shaun was so much better than Ian in every way?

This led to Ian asking Alice to move into an apartment with him, even if it cost them money. He was able to feel more secure when they were living together, and he could be the one going into her bedroom at any hour of the day to be with her instead of someone else.

Shaun did try to befriend Ian, but it seemed like every time they hung out, something would rub him the wrong way. He did his best to be happy for Alice and Ian in their relationship, but it wasn't just Ian's shit taste in anime that struck Shaun as a red flag.

It didn't take Shaun long to notice a pattern in Ian and Alice's relationship. Ian would be down on himself, even cry and apologize for being inadequate, and Alice would reassure him. It seemed like every day, he saw this happen at least once. He tried reassuring Ian as well when he could, but after a while it gets tiring to try and lift someone up who keeps dragging himself down. Shaun would suggest Ian try therapy, and Ian would insist it wouldn't work, he was hopeless, and it wasn't worth wasting money on.

It was only when Alice showered Ian with love, and when their mutual friends bent backwards to cheer him up, that Ian would perk up again.

Shaun saw the red flags going up, how Ian was so needy for Alice and it was wearing on her. She went out of her way for Ian all the time, doing so much more because Ian "needed" her.

What made it worse was that Shaun saw how unbalanced their relationship was, how Alice gave Ian so much more than Ian gave back. Because Ian was so clingy, Alice had to often cancel meet ups with friends at the last minute, citing that he was having a bad day and needed her. Yet, on days when Alice was feeling like shit, she just kept powering through, pretending nothing was wrong. It took Shaun a lot of effort to pry her into leaning on him, and he'd even go out of his way to do stuff for her without her asking, like buying her lunch when she was so overworked she forgot to bring any.

Shaun worried for Alice because she was his friend, and she didn't deserve this sort of treatment. It was like she had become Ian's emotional crutch. Regardless of his attraction towards her, regardless if they could ever get together, he wanted her to be happy.

Shaun's opinion of Ian slowly deteriorated over time, but it turned into downright hate when Ian cheated on Alice, especially after she almost died because of it.

It was just a normal night when Shaun got a phone call from Ian. It was about Alice of course. It was the only reason Ian ever called Shaun - to check up on Alice. That night was different because Ian was in a panic. Alice wasn't picking up for him, which was unusual enough, but Ian was insistent that Shaun needed to check on her to make sure she was okay.

It was lucky that Shaun had the spare key to the apartment Alice and Ian shared. The sight of her lying unconscious in a pool of blood in the bathroom is a scar that'll forever be etched in his memory.

Shaun spent an entire night terrified, wondering what had happened. Did Alice try to kill herself? Why? She might have been missing Ian after he moved across the country, but she always reached out to Shaun and others when she wanted company. What happened that night? When he mentioned Alice's state to Ian, he just wailed that it was all his fault and Shaun couldn't reach Ian after that, as Ian was busy trying to book a flight back home to see her at the hospital.

Shaun had to be the one to call Alice's family too, but he had no answers to give them. The doctors would only let family or her legal partner see her for a while. It was only the next day that he learned that it was all because Ian had cheated on Alice, and she drank to dull the pain, only to hurt herself under the influence of alcohol poisoning.

Shaun could've kicked himself. He saw the problems in their relationship, but he didn't think it was his place to say anything. He worried his jealousy was coloring his perspective, seeing things too negatively. Now he wished he pushed harder like his gut told him, got Alice to see that the relationship was no good for her.

When Alice forgave Ian and tried to make it work, Shaun couldn't just sit back and let it happen.

So, yeah, Shaun's opinion of Ian in the present day is very negative. He views Ian as a toxic, manipulative, cheating scumbag who didn't deserve Alice. It was a relief when he managed to help Alice see that too so that she could finally end that toxic relationship. He was there for her so many nights when she cried over Ian and missed him. He saw the pain Ian put Alice through, and it just made his hatred of Ian grow.

Ian is grateful for Shaun being there to help Alice and even getting her to the hospital, but that doesn't get rid of his jealousy. Shaun and Alice are still talking even though she never picks up the phone for Ian anymore. He sees their exchanges online. They're still close. Shaun could one day sweep in and...

Ian can't let that happen. He can't let Shaun steal away the person who means so much to him. He can't let Alice just let him go like this. He just has to apologize to Alice, keep apologizing, and everything will be fine.

Sooooo... yeah, suffice to say, Ian and Shaun do not get along, and I doubt that they ever will... at least in my headcanons.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

[racetrackmybeloved]

why didnt albert get an assignment?

obsessed with the implications of jack not giving albert an assignment when it came to telling the other newsies about the strike. he's clearly one of the tougher/older newsies (calling out the delancey brothers for beating up striking trolley workers with finch and race, being the first to suggest beating up scabbers, carrying crutchie), clearly confident (his entire interaction with wiesel) so it would have made sense to pick him to go to a different newsie group.

jack singled out specs, tommy boy, and then finch to tell different newsie groups about the strike. (mush, race, jojo and buttons volunteered, so they're irrelevant to me). albert was right beside specs and tommy boy, and he was sitting on the table so its not like he was hiding.

specs as a choice to make the journey and talk to the queens newsies makes sense to me: we know that he's used to doing long journeys to deliver messages (brings jack the note from crutchie), is somewhat of an authoritative/respected figure in lower manhattan (led newsies to the journal) and in general has the vibe of being one of the more mature newsie in the lodging house.

tommy boy? who knows. we know nothing about his character besides the fact that he is extremely literal (the "keep your shirt on" moment). as discussed HERE i don't think he scabbed, but we don't know enough about his character to make a judgement on whether it made sense for jack to single him out.

finch? yeah nah, he was clearly one of the more cautious newsies ("what if the cops bust our heads?") and less sure about the strike ( "are we?" in response to jack's "they wanted proof that we weren't gonna fold at the first sign of trouble", and "how's about we just don't show up for work?"). not surprised that he didn't want to talk to spot conlon of all people. so why did jack pick him?

with finch and tommy boy being questionable choices, and albert being right there, and also being a logical pick based on toughness and likely age, there must be a reason he wasnt picked.

my reason? he's an awkward SOB who accidentally pisses people off, and jack doesnt want to risk it. he's not great with social cues (pisses off all the newsies with "if you can find her" about henry's mom, steals race's cigar, and is still confused about what "the world is yer erster" means even after it is explained), has a severe case of RBF, and is overall just not the greatest communicator.

that was an extremely long winded way of saying that albert is awkward as hell (and i love him for it).

[dykeulous]

about me.

hello! i am apollo and i am aspiring to be an author and an activist someday. i come from a small, underdeveloped “post-socialist” country. i hope my blog will be helpful to everyone, and i try to be as open-minded on most topics as i can be. this is how i would describe myself:

i am a butch lesbian with heavy sex (& social) dysphoria. i would refer to myself as transmasc, and i am still very much trans-identified, as dysphoria has caused me much trouble over my formative years, and it has been making my life a true agonizing hell :)). i approach trans issues with sensitivity and criticism. i try my best not to be black-and-white about things; and i always try to be well-informed before speaking on anything. i love gender acceleration, and i would describe my views as gender critical. i am explicitly anti-racist, anti-capitalist & anti-imperialist. my views align with marxist feminism/proletarian feminism & radical feminism– which is why i would describe myself as a dual system feminist. my analysis & beliefs come from dialectical materialism, rather than idealism, which is why i’ve found myself in opposition with most trans rights activists. i am for abolishing the prison system, and i believe rehabilitation should be the goal, rather than punishment. drug addicts & recovering addicts have a special place in my heart ❤️‍🩹. i’m not vegan, but i appreciate & love all my ecofeminist sisters: i try my best to be vocal about animal liberation & climate activism. i believe the bpd diagnosis is being hyper-sold to female people, and this is because of medical misogyny & institutional sexism– it is being used as new age female hysteria. oh, and i’m also autistic. i love autistic women, and i wholeheartedly want to smash medical misogyny whenever i see how my neurodivergent sisters are being treated. 🇵🇸 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA PALESTINE WILL BE FREE!!!

my special interest is gender abolition (i’m very very passionate about this!!!) and marxist politics. my current hyperfixations are harry potter (i’m a slytherin 🐍), greek mythology & mlp. i unironically use the word kinnie; my highest kins are severus snape, twilight sparkle and diane nguyen. i love punk rock music, and i love riot grrrl. ask me about ww2, i used to be very hyperfixated on it last year– i reviewed a lot of ww2-themed movies critically & pointed their historical revisionism out. i am a slavic patriot by heart, and will punch a westerner who chooses to ignore our beautiful history. tito, lenin, che guevara, rosa luxemburg apologist. also i’m very interested in soviet history (the night witches are so fascinating!!), north korean culture & cuban cuisine.

if you wish to block me, go ahead. if you don’t, cool. i don’t block people, i allow a wide range of people to interact, and quite frankly, i think dni lists are useless. won’t hold back if you’re going to attack me. will engage in respectful arguments, and also will engage in disrespectful arguments, with the same energy you give me.

check out @pokegyns! it’s a group blog modded by nuancefem discord server members, owned by our precious pikalay @tirfpikachu.

links to some of the posts of mine i find quite useful for people who are going to hate-scroll through my blog, and also for people who are interested in radical feminism, but are scared we’re a hate group.

1. Intersex People, Transitioned Trans Women & Transitioned Trans Men

Are Trans Women Privileged?; Gender Socialization & Transmisogyny

Intersectionality Is Key: Our Issues Intersect, but They Differ

2. Feminist Praxis & Tactics: Separatism VS Proletarian Feminism; My Personal Critique of Radical Feminism

3. Transmedicalists VS Queer Theorists; Transmedicalism: The Sexism, Racism, and Classism

4. Listen to Dysphoric Voices

5. What Is Gender?; Gender Acceleration

6. The Word “Cis”

*Thread: Transness and Radical Feminism Can Coexist*

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts

It's the day of the Fall in the Sherlock fandom...needless to say that today's prompt is fall...

The Luckiest Girl in the world (chapter 4)

Summary: Rosie starts to interact with her uncle in earnest, much to Sherlock and John's delight. Mycroft is not that amused...

Four Years Old

Shortly after our seaside visit, things were set in motion by the British Government, aka Mycroft Holmes. Papers were signed, and a few months before my fourth birthday, I was Sherlock’s legal daughter. My Papa. God, how I love him. Just as much as I love Dad. And the adoption came with more benefits. I got an uncle and two grandparents as well.

My uncle Myc, as I call him, which he wrinkled his nose at in the beginning, is a complex man. Like his younger brother, but also different. The walls around him are thicker and not as easily penetrable as Papa’s. Gaining access to Mycroft Holmes’s heart, is no easy feat. Only a handful of people have managed it, and I’m the last one in line. Walls can indeed fall.

Dad told me how Papa constantly bickered, argued and fought with his brother, but Dad knew there was love there. Uncle Myc did anything in his power to keep Papa safe, and later Dad and me.

When I started to really interact with my uncle, Papa apparently had the time of his life, because at the age of barely four, I had no idea who Mycroft Holmes really was, or what he was capable of. I just saw a pompous man, always dressed in a three-piece suit, and carrying an umbrella. The latter spurred my brain, not to mention my tongue, into action.

“Why do you always have that parasol with you?” I asked and pointed at his umbrella.

Papa rumbled and Dad chuckled. It was Papa who had told me the name of the item. 

“It’s an umbrella, Rosamund,” he said stiffly and glared daggers at his brother, fully knowing who had “taught” me the name.

I didn’t care what the damn thing was called, but stared stubbornly at him and waved a hand, as Papa used to do when he didn’t want to be troubled with trifles.

“Why?” I asked sternly, lifting my chin in challenge.

“Oh, John. That surely is the spitting image of what you looked like when you turned his offer down in that garage all those years ago,” I heard Papa say.

I had no idea what he was talking about, and didn’t bother asking, so I continued staring my uncle straight in the eyes, daring him to deny me an answer. 

“You got your stubbornness from your dad,” Papa always says.

Uncle Myc cleared his throat and sat down on the sofa, before he explained some nonsense, I didn’t believe for a second. How the British weather is unpredictable, that he sometimes needed it for support if his leg should, for some reason, give way. At that point Papa and Dad snorted in unison and I rolled my eyes. That got me a tiny hint of a smile. It probably reminded him of his brother when he was my age.

“When you’re old enough, I will take you to the shop that makes these, and let you choose your very own,” he offered in a tone that was supposed to be friendly, but his lack of training in that area, made it sound more like a threat.

***

“Did you see his face, John,” Papa laughed when everyone had left my birthday party.

Dad giggled and was almost unable to answer, clinging to Papa’s arm like it was the only thing preventing him from falling.

“I did! Please tell me he still got surveillance cameras in the flat,” Dad said breathlessly and looked up at Papa with a pleading expression.

Papa bent down and kissed his forehead, and whispered something I couldn’t discern. It clearly contained something sentimental, because Dad cupped Papa’s face and murmured “love you”, before they started laughing again.

The reason for this silly behaviour had everything to do with Nana’s gift. It was an umbrella. Light green, with yellow flowers, green plants, and a white bird with a large beak on the rim. That in itself, wasn’t what got my fathers into a fit of giggles, but rather my outburst after I’d thanked Nana for it.

“Look, uncle Myc! I got one too. Just like yours. “

Also available on AO3

Tags in the replies.

[brucewaynehater101]

"If it's closer to fanon Tim, he would feel guilty for Jason. Closer to canon Tim would either be indifferent to Jason's troubles or he'd feel glad (maybe even a little spiteful) that Jason is facing the consequences of his actions. He would, however, feel guilty for how the revelation affects the street kids."

I have to say I disagree with this. Firstly; with the whole post you're framing this as though Jason beat up a child... which like, true, but also Jason is hardly two years older than Tim. I know comics make him seem aged up, but its simply not the case. (dont @ me if u know this cuz u probably do know this already)

Secondly, Canon Tim.... doesn't hate Jason?? Like, really not at all. If there is any dislike, I'd see it as when Jason is acting particularly villainous, he treats him like any other rogue. Though they don't necessarily interact a lot when Jason is in his villain moments. It's other bats who take care of that, so there's really no beef there.

When Jason isn't having an evil moment, honestly a good word for what Tim feels for him is either pity at worst, admiration at best. With the admiration, I'm not talking about Tim liking him as Robin 'cause that's honestly pretty fanon, I'm talking about how Tim admires his tenacity and determination to keep going even when he feels like everyone is against him. And Tim wants to support him! He sees Jason struggling a lot and wishes Jason would accept help- hence the pity.

I sincerely doubt that Tim would ever feel glad or spiteful towards Jason. He's gotten him back for the whole 'beating the shit out of him' thing. Which really, wasn't really about Tim? Plus its far in the past at this point.

Not to mention Tim is one hell of a badass, he doesn't wallow in self-pity, and I don't think he'd want to interfere with RH's stuff and would probably stop the information leak himself, or even deny the rumors with something like "Oh that? It was just a disagreement/misunderstanding lol the rumors got out of hand,"

Sorry if this was too much, I like ur blog and the things u say, this one just felt really misinformed.

Thank you for letting me know. Reading the post back, I can see how I worded it wrong. I appreciate you giving me the chance to correct that and clarify.

Yes, Jason and Tim are close in age. However, Jason's age (as far as I'm aware) isn't known to civilians. Because of his helmet and bulkiness, a kid would view Jason as an Adult. If they knew his age and then the fight with Robin, that would probably be an acceptable level of violence for them. That's just two kids beating each other up, then. From their perspective, though, Robin is a Kid and Jason is an Adult. A possible solution to gain back their trust could be to disclose how old they were at the time (they might not even need to disclose any details or reasoning with that).

Later in canon, Jason and Tim start getting along. If the reveal happened at that point, Tim would not feel gleeful and spiteful. He'd feel bad for Jason. That is entirely my bad for not making that distinction.

Tim is, undeniably, an asshole at times. He wants to do good, tries to help people, and overall is kind. He's badass and I love him, but he can be an asshole (particularly to Steph). He, especially his inner dialog, sometimes makes asshole comments. This includes Jason. To add on, when Jason was beating him up and demanding Tim to answer if he thought he was good (skill wise), Tim answered yes twice. To me, this seems like a petty/spiteful response. That or Tim is just being honest af about his feelings, not giving a shit he's taking a beating.

However, Tim would not hold this grudge against Jason. One of his better qualities is to not hold grudges against most people (even those that he arguably should). It's why some villains/rogues/enemies become his allies or end up becoming fond of him.

Tim may feel glad that Jason is experiencing the consequences of his actions, but not for himself. This would be during his time as Robin exclusively. Red Robin would not feel this way.

Spiteful, though, was the wrong word to use. Tim, as the loveable asshole that he can sometimes be, might be sort of happy that Jason, in his villain era, is being shown the effects of his actions and possible wrongs in his ways. Happy also seems to not match, but the emotions wheel isn't really giving me an alternative.

Tim would, despite his feelings, hate the effect of this on everyone. The street kids, Jason, and the batfam would be negatively impacted by this, and Tim would try everything he could to stop or mitigate the outcomes. He would never release this information willingly nor stand aside to let it happen. Robin may internally say some shit about Jason and the situation if it blew up in their faces, but you're right that he wouldn't purposefully make shit worse. He would actively work to fix the entire mess.

I really am thankful that you helped me articulate this.

It's 100% my bad that I dropped the ball so hard. If y'all see me fuck up like that again, feel free to let me know. As long as you're not mean about it, I appreciate constructive criticism.

Imma edit the previous post this is about and link it to this one so that I fix the mischaracterization

[ckret2]

this is a little bit of a bizarre question but the way you manage to “flesh out” characters while keeping them consistent is really remarkable to me!

I’m having a lot of trouble making characters feel less ‘one-dimensional’ (especially female characters…It’s like my mind just draws a blank)

I understand it helps that most of the characters you’re writing have pre established personalities, aesthetics, etc. but I still feel like you manage to make the characters your own in a believable way.

do you have any advice for someone with this issue? if not, just know that I’m really really loving Bill-Goldilocks-Cipher and always look forward to the next chapter!!!

so the first thing you have to do is get deeply deeply obsessed with the story and then you have to go on walks fantasizing feverishly about the characters

But more serious answer:

Advice #1: Just take whatever you already know about the character and dig dig dig dig dig.

Take Wendy. She's the cool girl. Her character concept when she was designed was The Cool Girl. She's such a cool girl that by the end of the series she's symbolically represented by a bag of ice. She also says in one episode that she's NOT laid back, she's stressed all the time, because of her family.

Why is a 24/7 stressed teenager trying to give off an air of being cool and chill? Why did she start? What's she getting out of it? Why does she feel the pressure to maintain that facade? If she's so stressed, what's going on inside her head when she interacts with people? Her friends? Her boss? In one episode, she responds to both a request to hang out at a carnival and a request to start a romantic relationship with "yeah, I guess so." It's so passive. Why's she so passive in her relationships? Especially when she's so outwardly tough and assertive? What's the source of this side of her that just goes along with what other people suggest with seemingly no interest of her own���again, including a ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP? How does this relate to her being the "cool girl"? How does this relate to her deliberate decision to portray herself as "the cool girl"? In one episode she gets a scrape and the FIRST THING she does is forcefully tell Dipper NOT to freak out—why is her priority hastening to reassure the people around her before taking care of herself? She's got three younger brothers—is that how she interacts with them? Is one of them scared of blood? Does she see Dipper like one of her little brothers? Elder sisters often get handed the responsibility to act like mini-moms at young ages—did that happen to Wendy? Her mom is GONE, did that INCREASE the pressure on her? Is that why her family stresses her? What's it like in that house? Being pushed into acting like a mini-mom is a very traditionally feminine role—nurturing—which is at odds with Wendy's kinda soft butch presentation and way of speaking/acting—but is it at odds with Wendy's overall behavior? Following along with what the guys do rather than deciding for herself, passively accepting romantic propositions rather than pursuing someone she actually wants? Is she comfortable in those roles or does she feel pushed into them? Does it grate at her? Does she ever want to act assertive rather than just appear like an assertive person? Why do we never see her "we're WOMEN and we TAKE WHAT WE WANT" side more than once—and is it significant that she only pulls that out when there aren't any guys around? Does being the cool girl—supportive, accepting, nurturing, passive—chafe at her? Why's she do it?

Just keep digging. Overanalyze those tiny character details. Tie them together. Become the "I've connected the two dots" "You didn't connect shit" "I've connected them" meme. You can, will, and must connect the two dots. Treat every character like a mystery to figure out.

But your starting point is always whatever you already know about the character. You're building off of that foundation. You throw NOTHING out the window, buster—EVERY detail is important. You're not just wholesale making shit up—you're extrapolating wildly from whatever you already have. Making shit up always feels unanchored and vague. I said in an ask a few days ago that I headcanon Wendy likes that "stomp clap hey" hipster music genre. I didn't grab that randomly. I grabbed it because when we see her bedroom, she's got a poster with a banjo on it; she's super stoked to go to the Woodstick festival, and when she shows some of the featured indie bands to Dipper she focuses on two of the hipsteriest-sounding ("Scarves Indoors," "Wood Grain on Everything") and the apparent headlining band is the Handlebar Bros (just look at them); and she desperately wants to move to Portland, which in 2012 was the hipster capitol of North America—that's the culture she wants to escape to. No making shit up!! BUILD OFF WHAT YOU HAVE.

And Advice #2: you're telling a story, here. You have a plotline. Shape your characters to serve the story you're telling. What kind of a story are you telling? I'm telling a story about the destructive consequences of being a "special" kid—gifted kids, child celebrities, pageant kids, kids pushed to fill adult roles too young—the perfectionism, the burnout, the fear that anything short of excellence is insufficiency, the need for external validation, seeking love through fame rather than intimacy. When I'm looking at shallow characters and seeing how to fit them into the story, I'm prodding at them to see whether anything we know about them holds the potential to comment on themes like that—and then, if they do, that gives me an direction to dig in that already personally fascinates me, because it helps me weave this character into the story I already want to tell. If a character doesn't inherently carry any of those themes—then what can I do with the contrast between this character and the others?

And then, sometimes, I'm telling a story about two guys getting hunted down by a tooth fairy that desperately wants to steal one's teeth and a dentist that's willing to do anything she says but not motivated to furiously avenge her when she's defeated. Now I've got to make up two characters completely from scratch, BUT I don't have to make them up aimlessly. I already know the exact shapes they need to be fill their assigned positions in the story—I know what they need to do to make the story work—and now I can build them from the edges in, to make them the kinds of people they need to be to perform the actions I want to serve the plot they're in. And from there I can build them just like any character—I take the things they need to be, the things I already know about them (the dentist obeys the fairy but doesn't want to avenge her) and I dig dig dig (why would he not want to avenge her if he's so obedient? Does he obey her out of obligation but not true loyalty? Why? What kind of a person does this make him?)

And the tl;dr of all of that advice is:

so the first thing you have to do is get deeply deeply obsessed with the story and then you have to go on walks fantasizing feverishly about the characters

[stargazer-sims]

Count On Me

Like your favourite chair, I'll hold you close whether you lose or win. I'm that breath of air flowing out and flowing right back in. I hope you know that I am here, always close and always near.

♫ Count on Me - Diana Ross ♫

_______________

This will make more sense if you've already read Full Circle and Broken Glass

CONTENT WARNING - violence, death

_______________

"Ugh... I suck." Fox sinks onto his sister's couch with all the grace of a seal flopping onto a beach rock. He leans his head against one of the decorative cushions on the back of of the sofa and lets out a groan. "I never imagined I'd screw up a conversation so much. And with my own kid, no less."

Now that he's calm, he realizes how exhausted he is. He navigates difficult situations all the time at work with kids in care, biological parents, foster parents, and professionals connected to each of his clients, but none of those interactions ever seem to drain him as much as this one conversation with his teenage son has.

He'd shared everything with Clancy in the car on the way over to her house, all about his confrontation with Forest and what had led up to it in the first place, and about his frustration and sense of inadequacy to handle it. Clancy was sympathetic, but he could tell she also had a lot she wanted to say. To her credit, though, she hadn't offered any of her own opinions in the car. She'd let him talk

Clancy hands him a mug of tea and then sets her own mug on the coffee table before sitting down next to him. "You don't suck. Your kid sucks."

"No, he doesn't."

"Okay, maybe not him personally, but it sounds like his attitude could use a serious adjustment."

"I don't know where we went wrong," Fox says. "None of our other kids are like this. Not that they're angelic or anything, but the other five combined don't give us as much trouble as Forest does. I thought we were parenting them all more or less the same way, but we must've dropped the ball with Forest."

"I don't know why you think it has to be your fault, or Takahiro's," Clancy says.

"Because we're his parents."

"And?"

"And we're supposed to teach him how to be his best self," he says.

"Kids are individuals, you know," Clancy points out. "You can try your hardest, but at the end of the day, they're the only ones who can decide if they're gonna be the best version of themselves or not. Forest is seventeen. He's going to make his own choices whether you like them or not."

"Yeah, but I hoped he'd make better ones."

"We all want that," Clancy says. "I want Grey and Frankie to make good choices too, but they're getting to an age where I have less and less influence over them. Especially Frankie. A sixteen year old with a driver's license and a part-time job? That kid thinks she owns the world."

"I'll bet she's never openly questioned your love though, or looked you in the face and told you to shut up."

"She knows better than to do that," Clancy declares. "She's free to make her own choices, with the understanding that every choice has consequences. I might not be able to spank her any more, but she knows I'm not above handing out other punishments."

"You know Taka and I don't punish our kids."

"Maybe you should," she says. "I know you guys are into that gentle parenting or whatever, but sometimes trying to reason with a kid is about as effective as banging your head against a brick wall. I'm not saying you're failures as parents, because you're totally not, but I think a few well-placed slaps on the bum when he was little might've done Forest some good."

"Violence isn't the answer, Clancy."

"Nobody's telling you to commit violence," she counters. "People shouldn't be indiscriminately hitting their kids every time they make some little mistake. All I'm saying is that on the occasions when using your words isn't getting the job done, sometimes you have to use other methods."

Fox sets his tea down on the end table and then turns to fix his sister with a level gaze. "Such as assaulting children?"

"Oh my God." Clancy lets out her breath in an audible huff. "I see where Forest got that hard head from."

"Excuse me?"

"Fox, you're deliberately missing the point," says his sister. "Look, I know spanking was never in your playbook, and it's fine. It hasn't been in mine either since Frankie was maybe six or seven years old. My point was, sometimes just talking to a kid isn't enough. Sometimes they need a stronger message."

"Such as?"

"Such as consequences that make them think about their actions. Some people have to learn things the hard way."

"I guess that makes sense," Fox concedes.

"Of course it makes sense," Clancy says. "Forest needs to understand he's not entitled to a free ride through life and that he can't get away with throwing a tantrum when things don't go his way, and you and Takahiro need to teach him that before someone else does, 'cause they won't love him like you do and... you know."

"We'll give him a safety net, and other people won't."

"Exactly."

Fox sighs. "Why can't parenting be easier?"

"If I knew how to make it easier, I'd write a book, make millions of dollars off it, and retire from the police force." Clancy gives him a half-smile. "Incidentally, if you think you've got it hard, you should try parenting by yourself.

"Sorry," Fox says. "I wasn't thinking of—"

"No, don't apologize. I was the one who brought it up." She reaches for her own mug of tea. Several seconds pass as she holds the mug between both hands and gazes into it. "The actual parenting part wasn't any less difficult when Garrett was alive. It's just... I miss being able to discuss things with him, and I miss us backing each other up."

"I don't know how you got through it," Fox tells her. "I'd be devastated if anything happened to Takahiro. I have no idea how I'd survive losing him."

"You'd survive," Clancy says. "I can't tell you how, but you'd do it somehow. If you were on your own, you'd have no choice. You'd find a way to do it for your kids."

His sister is right. As much as he knows a part of him would want to lie down and surrender, he would go on for the sake of his children, just like Clancy did. "I guess I would."

"You would," Clancy reiterates. "Sink or swim, you know? It's what you've got to do."

Fox nods. "I know."

He recalls the day, eight years ago, when his brother-in-law Garrett died. It had started as a perfectly normal Friday in early August, and Fox had been at the office finishing some paperwork and writing notes on the files one of his co-workers, Chloë St-Jean, would be overseeing for him while he was on vacation for the following two weeks. His mind hadn't been entirely on the task. He'd been too busy daydreaming about his family's upcoming camping adventure. He pictured himself playing and exploring with Taka and their kids, spending hot, hazy afternoons painting by the lake, making s'mores and singing campfire songs, and then snuggling by the slowly fading fire with Taka after all the kids were tucked into their sleeping bags.

Lost inside his own head, he barely acknowledged the approaching sound of police sirens on the street outside his office window. About fifteen minutes later, the distinctive wail of ambulance sirens racing past the building didn't entirely register either. It was only when Chloë dashed through the open doorway of his office with her phone in her hand and a wild look in her eyes that he pulled himself away from his reverie.

She announced herself with, "I just got a call from my brother."

"What happened?" Fox asked, and then because Chloë seemed so upset, "Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he and Belle are fine, thank God. They're shaken up, probably like everyone else, but they're not hurt."

"What happened?" he asked again.

"Fox! There was a literal high-speed chase outside your window, like twenty minutes ago, and you didn't notice?"

"A high-speed chase? In downtown Willow Creek?" He was thoroughly confused and knew he sounded incredulous, but he couldn't help it. "I heard the sirens, but I didn't realize—"

"Davian said the car the cops were chasing crashed straight through the front of the building where his studio is," she explained, breathless. "Some people in the building got hurt, and Dav said they could hear shooting outside and he thinks somebody might've died, but he didn't know if it was a police officer or one of the bad guys or somebody else."

As things unfolded, Fox learned that more than one person had lost their life. While Chloë was still in his office, trying to calm herself down after the phone call with her brother, Fox's own phone rang. It was his sister.

"Fox, I need you." Clancy's normally strong, assertive demeanour had been replaced by a voice so weak and small that he almost didn't recognize it. "I got a call from dispatch. It... it's Garrett. There was a situation... something happened downtown."

She offered as much information as she knew, and asked Fox to meet her at the hospital. When he arrived at the ER, he found Clancy, her partner Harry, and two uniformed officers standing in the waiting area, apparently heedless of the handful of unoccupied chairs. To an outside observer, Clancy might've seemed steady and composed, but Fox could tell she was a hair's breadth away from losing it. He couldn't speak for Harry or the two patrol officers, but he knew why Clancy wasn't sitting. The instant she let herself relax, she'd fall apart.

The uniformed cops started to move toward him as if they might try to stop him from getting to his sister, but Harry reached out and put a hand on one of their shoulders. "That's her twin brother. It's fine."

Fox hadn't wanted to be right, but the moment Clancy was in his arms, she let out a sound that was so filled with anguish that it couldn't have been mistaken for anything else. Then, she began to sob. It was as if every tear she'd never allowed herself to shed throughout her life finally burst out of her in an almighty flood.

He'd never seen his sister like that before, and he hoped to God he'd never witness anything like it again. He didn't know what to do, so he just held her as tightly as he could and let her cry.

Clancy was wholly incapable of getting any coherent words out, so it was Harry who told him, "He didn't make it. Garrett, I mean." The detective clenched his huge fists and growled, "That bastard got him."

Harry went on to explain that Garrett and his partner had responded to a 911 call from an employee at a downtown bank who reported an armed robbery in progress. Just as they arrived on scene, the two armed suspects exited the bank and jumped into a waiting car where a third person was already behind the wheel. That, Fox learned, resulted in the chase Chloë had seen from her office window. Harry couldn't say if the getaway driver had lost control of the vehicle or if he'd smashed through the front of a building on purpose, but the collision had effectively ended the chase.

The driver of the getaway car was killed on impact. The back seat passenger, who was still armed with his gun from the robbery, scrambled out of the car and attempted to escape, but he was injured too. He fired at other officers who'd arrived on the scene, but he didn't get far before they were able to disarm and apprehend him.

Meanwhile, Garrett and his partner were checking on the front seat passenger. The guy was obviously injured, and according to what Harry found out from Garrett's partner, they thought the man was unconscious. When Garrett reached in through the smashed car window to check for a pulse, the man suddenly opened his eyes, grabbed Garrett's wrist with one hand and whipped out a previously concealed knife with the other. Before anyone had time to react, the man plunged the long, sharp blade directly into Garrett's neck.

The paramedics made a valiant effort to save him, but he'd passed away in the ambulance, less than a kilometre from the hospital.

"This job's a fucking nightmare some days," Harry concluded. "We all know the danger, but it's like you put it out of your mind so you can get shit done. And then you develop this thing where you start to believe it's never gonna happen to you. Or to somebody you love."

Clancy and Garrett had loved each other passionately, and they both knew the risks. They'd met when Clancy was still a patrol officer too, and despite the warnings of their parents and their fellow officers that getting involved with another cop wasn't a great idea, they would not be deterred.

Six months after they met, Clancy earned all her qualifications to become a detective. Six months after that, she and Garrett got married in a stunningly elaborate ceremony. complete with a police honour guard made up of their colleagues and friends.

They were over the moon when baby Francine came along, and just as elated at the birth of Greyson three years later. It was obvious to everybody who knew them how devoted they were to each other and to their little family, and their bond only grew stronger as time went on.

They loved like there was no tomorrow, as Garrett's mother had put it, or in Garrett's own words, "Make it count. Do all the living you can while you've got a life to live."

Fox was left utterly shaken by the description of his brother-in-law's last minutes. He couldn't imagine what it must've been like for Clancy to hear it again.

"Can I take her home?" he asked Harry.

At that, Clancy raised her head from his shoulder. "No," she said weakly. "I can't go. Not until I see my husband."

So, they waited.

When a doctor eventually came out and said Clancy would be permitted to view the body, both Fox and Harry went with her. When she saw her husband lying on the gurney, with a pristine white bandage across his throat, Clancy let out a scream so feral that Fox struggled to accept it was coming from a human. The sound of his sister's pain and the image of her cradling the pale, still body of her husband had haunted his dreams for months after that.

When they finally did depart the hospital, Fox had to guide her to his car. She stumbled along beside him, seemingly unaware of anything, mumbling things to herself that Fox was unable to comprehend.

He'd been afraid to leave her, so he took her to his own house. Knowing Frankie and Grey were safe with Garrett's parents, he made the decision to let them stay there undisturbed for the time being. Clancy was in no condition to help her kids, and Fox knew they'd be even more traumatized by what had happened if they saw their mother in that state.

As soon as they walked through the front door, Takahiro was there to meet them. He held out his arms to Clancy and she stepped straight into his waiting embrace. Open-hearted Takahiro, with his gift for comforting others, didn't say he was sorry or utter any meaningless platitudes. All he said was, "We're here for you."

Fox could visually observe the tension leaving Clancy's body. She sagged in Taka's arms and whispered, "Thank you, Takahiro."

It wasn't until the next morning that Clancy was ready to be with her kids, and even then she wasn't able to tell them about Garrett herself. It was actually Takahiro who’d broken the news to them and, in his gentle way, answered their questions about what dying meant.

Fox was grateful. He wasn't sure he could've handled it as gracefully as Taka did, and when he said as much to his husband later, Taka's response had been, "It's all right. Sometimes people need help from someone who's one step away. Close enough to care, but not too close to see things in perspective."

That piece of wisdom is something Fox has carried with him ever since. He thinks he fulfills that role in the lives of his clients, his niece and nephew and his friends, and he's taught himself to recognize when he needs someone to step into that role for him. As much as he wants to prove he's grown enough to manage things on his own, the truth is that he can't keep all the proverbial balls in the air by himself. No one can.

"Hey."

Fox realizes he's allowed too long a pause in the conversation when his sister's one-word sentence interrupts his reminiscence. He glances over at her. "Sorry."

"You okay?" she asks.

"Yeah. I was just thinking."

"About...?"

"Garrett," he admits. "Sorry if that's weird."

"It's not," Clancy says. "I was thinking about him too."

"Because of what I said?"

"Not really," she says. "There isn't a single day where I don't think about him at least once. Sometimes it's the most random thing that'll remind me of him. Like, when I accidentally burn the toast at breakfast, or when I catch myself squeezing the toothpaste in the middle. That annoyed Garrett so much. He used to say I was wasting it."

Fox smiles. "Taka gets after me for being a middle-squeezer too."

Clancy releases an abrupt laugh. "A middle-squeezer?"

"That's what he calls it. He's an end-squeezer, and he thinks that's the only correct way to squeeze out toothpaste. He also thinks there's only one correct way to put a roll of toilet paper on the holder too."

"There is. I had it on good authority from my late husband."

"We have to heed the experts," Fox says.

"Yeah," says Clancy. "God, I miss him. Sometimes I still come up with stuff I want to tell him, and I have these moments where I think 'I can't wait to tell Garrett when I get home from work'. But then I remember, and... yeah."

"So then you call and tell me."

"I'm glad you don't ignore my calls, even when it's about something dumb like seeing a stray chicken in the parking lot at Tim Hortons."

It's Fox's turn to laugh. "Can you imagine the lame jokes Garrett would've made about that? But yeah... you know I'll never ignore your calls. I'm here for you, one hundred percent."

"Same goes for you," Clancy says. "And you're not wrong about the jokes. Garrett thought he'd be a great stand-up comic, you know. He used to write down all his best material, as he called it. Kept it in a notebook in the apartment."

"The garage apartment?"

"Yeah. Well, it wasn't the garage apartment then, but you know what I mean."

As far as Fox knows, Clancy and Garrett's attached garage had never actually had a vehicle in it. The previous owners had been using it primarily for storage, and when Clancy and Garrett bought the house, Garrett decided it'd make a perfect family room. They had the garage door removed and replaced by a regular wall, had a small bathroom built in one corner, and moved in their big-screen TV, exercise equipment, pool table and an old sofa Clancy got from one of their cousins. Fox and Taka had spent many evenings hanging out with Clancy and Garrett, chatting and watching movies while all the kids played together nearby.

After Garrett passed, Clancy had the space converted into a bachelor flat so she could rent it out and supplement her income. She hired a contractor to construct a kitchenette and to install a separate entrance so her tenants wouldn't have to enter or exit through the house.

"Do you go in there much?" Fox asks. "To the garage apartment?"

"Only to collect the rent, or to fix stuff or clean up after somebody leaves," she says. "I gotta go in there this weekend, actually. I thought the student I had was going to stay for the whole school year, but she up and left. Decided she was going to move in with her boyfriend instead. She left it looking okay, but I still have to clean the floors and give the bathroom a good scrub."

"If you need help, let me know."

"Why? Are you going to send your kids to..." She lets the sentence fade and then grins at him. "Oh, wait."

"What?"

"I just had a genius idea," Clancy declares. "It's brilliant. Kind of a win-win, you might say."

"So, tell me what it is."

"You really could send one of your kids to the garage apartment. I mean, if Forest wants to move out so badly, maybe he should."

"And you think he should move in here?"

"Why not?" says Clancy. "He has a part-time job, doesn't he? He could pay me a little bit of rent every month. You wouldn't have him disrespecting you under your roof any more, and he'd learn how to be responsible for himself."

"I don't think he could do that, being totally on his own."

"He wouldn't be totally on his own. I'd keep an eye on him to make sure he's not going completely off the rails." She winks conspiratorially. "We just wouldn't tell him he's being surveilled."

"He wouldn't last a week," Fox says.

"Weren't you ready to let him run off to Japan by himself earlier today?" Clancy inquires.

"Do you think I actually believed he would?"

"You called his bluff."

"I did," Fox confesses.

"I'll bet Mom and Dad didn't believe you'd run away, but you did. They didn't think you'd make it on your own either, but you did that too."

"Fair point, but the difference between me and Forest is that my life was actually terrible and I had a valid reason to run away. I had to get out of there, and I was ready to change. Plus, I was twenty-five and fully educated."

"True, but the end goal is still the same," Clancy insists. "Look how much getting out from under our parents' roof did for you."

Fox considers it. He likes Clancy's plan in theory and he's thankful that she's willing to covertly supervise Forest, but he's not totally convinced his son could cope with being independent. As much as he wants Forest to learn that particular lesson, it'll defeat the purpose of the experiment if Forest begs to come home after only a few days.

"I'll have to discuss it with Taka," he says.

"I'd be concerned if you didn't," Clancy replies. "You can let me know what you decide, but don't take too long, okay? I want to advertise it for rent again if Forest isn't going to be moving in."

"Okay," Fox says. "Hopefully, we'll be able to let you know by the weekend."

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

Hi? Gosh how do I even start with this :'D

I know it's been ages since I've last popped up on here. I've been debating when to post this for a while, but I kept adding to my draft more and more and now it's the end of JULY omgg I felt so guilty disappearing with zero updates but then thought my birthday would be the best day to finally address this considering it'll feel less random? idk but Ive always celebrated my bday with you guys and I'd feel so bad answering your kind asks without me at least explaining why I was gone for months.

Truth be told, I was dealing with a lot of stuff irl. health issues and sudden declining grades that left me stumped and drained for months now- along with technical issues like having to replace some parts of my computer that took a while for me to find to even draw digitally, which I didn't have the time for anyway with how tired and weary I felt every day.

I'm frankly shaken up by a lot of shit rn and I don't know how to be active online with this burden on my chest- Especially as it's been a while since I've even looked at utmv related content and my motivation dwindled. I swear I'd hype myself up to post or reblog something- but I'd see just how much I've missed or the overwhelming amount of posts I'd need to go through and I'd feel so swamped with exhaustion and most importantly guilt, for not clearing the air up sooner to reassure you guys that I'm, y'know, alive, and not dead in a ditch somewhere. And I'd procrastinate cause typing it all out is hard and I'd give up halfway every time and it's just not fair to you all!

I thought I was handling it well when I started going out and socializing more, instead of staying cooped up at home on my computer all day. and in the first draft of this post I made months ago I was gonna detail some of the fun plans I had, for my life and for this blog :D but relaxing my strict study schedule and letting go a bit of my tight routine, thinking it was better than wringing myself dry to keep it up, backfired horribly, to say the least.

I know right?? so silly to be hung up on stupid shit like studies of all things! but this is a very important thing for me considering my career plans and the competitivity encouraged by everyone I'm surrounded by, the pressure of keeping up adding to my already stressful days. I had to fix myself up first and I couldn't handle the strain nor interact with people and thinking of jobs and exams sapped my energy so much it's frankly embarrassing. writing this feels so cheesy too and it frustrates me to know I could've come back a month earlier if it weren't for that, but I also know putting all of this into words then would just sound like incoherent venting (not that this is very different tbf) and I wasn't in the right headspace to address my absence, or anything really- I didn't want everyone to see me return when I couldn't muster up a genuinely positive message, let alone talk to anyone with a shadow of my usual cheer

I feel like a complete mess and It drives me up the wall how depressed I've gotten. I debated deleting this blog so many times 'cause the fear of disappointing my audience and my friends, for lack of a more fitting sentiment, made me feel even shittier. I'm constantly thinking if this wall of text is worth posting, or if it's better not to burden you all with all my sappy troubles as if it's the end of the world. Trust me, I'll be fine. I'm not trying to dramatize this situation, but I don't think I'm up to pretending I'm all sunshine and enthusiasm you're all accustomed to.

So sorry for worrying you all! I'll try to catch up, deliver some missed birthday gifts, and answer some asks while I'm at it! Again, I can't state how much I appreciate your support throughout the years. It's frankly a miracle I kept any of you around with how much I keep popping and leaving at random with no warning. I definitely can't promise for my stay to be without a hitch, and if you don't mind an inconsistent schedule you're free to stay of course, but I'm afraid I can't sustain the pace I had when I first started this blog. I'll keep posting art, but lower my activity in the fandom sphere to reduce the strain on my mental health. so fewer rants and walls of text, more art, and less stress overall. Love you all and thanks for waiting for this long <3

[somewhereincairparavel]

okay. So I've finished book 1 of keeper of the lost cities for the first time. And I'm loving this keefe dude already?? Like I never thought I'd like a fictional character so quickly. All it took was like one page for me to fall for him, I am aware that keefe is one of the most loved characters in the fandom, and I can see why (correct me if I'm wrong).

Also the book is a solid 9.5/10, the only thing I was frustrated about was probably the slight info dumping about the whole blackswan thing towards the end? because it took me like 3 reads to understand the whole situation, of course, we could just narrow it down to me being slow too, lol. But I'm VERY excited to continue reading the rest. So while we're at it, I'll put in my first impressions of the characters, so I can look back on it after I've read all the books, to see how much my perception has changed of them.

Sophie- i like her, she's really mature for her age, I keep forgetting that she's like 12 lmao. But she's well written, her emotions seem very raw and natural. Of course, she may seem overpowered but, I think that's the whole point of the story, she is supposed to be overpowered, so I don't mind and i wouldn't call her a Mary sue. Overall great protagonist, my girlie deserves a break tho, she got dumped in the hospital atleast 6 times lol.

Fitz- i actually think he's cool. I liked him better in the beginning of the story tho, I feel like afterwards, the dude kinda just disappeared a little? Keefe and Sophie seemed to have more private interaction than those two, and keefe literally only came by in the middle. But yeah, I feel like he had more of a personality in the start. Keefe and Dex, in my opinion had more personality in 5 minutes than fitz did the whole book, but I wouldn't judge so quickly, it's only the first book after all, Hopefully he'd have more page time in the later books. I still like him tho, just not as much as keefe.

Dex- Yeah he is such a typical best friend, I love him. His beef w the vackers is so funny lol I was relieved when Sophie stuck with him even after she became popular tho, also, he seems to have a crush on sophie right? It's kinda obvious, but overall friendship goals 10/10. I vocally "AWW-ed" after he said "are you kidding, i can't wait to tell everyone that you're my first friend" like I need a guy bestie like him :(

Alden- honestly, my heart warmed so much with his father-like dynamic with sophie tbh. He seemed to genuinely care about her well being, but I don't want to get too attached to him tho, just in case becomes a traitor or some shit later on, you can literally never tell with the adults lol. I've read enough books to back that up. But yeah, i really like him and della, the amount of reassuring hugs he gives sophie really heals me :(, They're like sophies 2nd (well, in her case, 3rd) parents. The amount of effort and lengths Alden put to get her out of trouble is actually sweet.

Elwin- This guy is such a W. He is like an adult keefe tbh. He is probably my favorite adult so far lol.

Cassius- I'm sorry, but Mr jerk face over here reminds me SO much of Lucius Malfoy??? Like ?? I feel so bad for Keefe, like poor baby leave him alone smh. I really wanna deck his royal highness in the face tbh.

Biana- absolutely loathed her in the beginning, she gave off such bad snob vibes lol but I love her now. I like the trope of two people forced to be friends w eachother by someone actually end up becoming friends. It's rather uncommon as far as I've read, atleast.

Grady and Edaline- is it bad that i thought they were going to be evil? Yeah I have so much trust issues, it's concerning. But yeah, they're both big W's, their backstory, their temporary contemplation to reject sophies adoption, everything aligned well with their backstory. Greatly written characters.

And last but not least, the king himself, Keefe- okay, he's like added to my list of fictional crushes now lol (along with Percy Jackson, Jason grace, Steve Harrington, chat noir, Eugene fitzherbert, edmund pevensie and Ravi singh ofc). How does sophie not have a fat crush on him, like- ma'am if you don't want him, I'll take him. But jokes aside, he feels like the most authentic character out of them all, tbh. Epitome of great writing. He was inserted to the story as this random dude that sophie runs into, and becomes an og in like 5 minutes. He is like a mix of Eugene from tangled, Kristoff from Frozen and chat noir from mlb all at the same time?? I cannot wait to see more of him and his backstory, especially with his parents. I know alot of people dislike the humorous guy with depression trope since it's overused, but I like how it played out on keefe, he uses school as an escape, which is very relatable.

Also, bonus, i LOVE the world building, the light leaping and all, very creative. I cannot wait to get my hands on book 2

[lucystark12]

how will, mike, and vecna's arcs chase eachother around the show

to begin

byler: the early ages (predating the show and season 1)

our very first real interaction between mike and will speaks directly to my theory of the genius of the friends to lovers trope. the very first time we see them talk it's will confessing something to mike that neither of their other two friends wanted to. it's different. there is immediately something different about will's relationship with mike compared to the other kids. call this will's honesty, but the one thing us bylers have going for us is that will is very much canonically in love with mike. this is them showing us clearly that SOMETHING. IS. DIFFERENT. i would not go so far as to say that will is in love with mike or vice versa this far back because they're literally twelve, however, that 'something different' that's seemingly been there for a very long time is important and needs to be noted. we don't know what's different, they don't know what's different, but they don't feel the same way towards each other as they do towards their other friends. this much is obvious

(flickergate mentioned!! 🔥🗣🗣🔥🔥)

now we've got our search for will. mike is totally champoining it. of course dustin and lucas are incredibly invested, but mike is our leader here. once again, this could just speak to his personality, but i think not! mike's level of investment in finding will safely causes him to act against the caring and nurturing nature of his personality which we see in the way he lashes out at el when the body is found.

to be totally real with you, i don't remember nearly as much about the first season as i do the other three and also believe that since will is missing for most of it there isn't quite as much to go off of. so now i'm going to move on to season two.

byler: season 2

once again in season two we see mike being the one who's most protective and most conscious of will and his wellbeing. i will reiterate- for both of them at this point i think this still feels like they are just two people with a deep connection. as they are literally thirteen, i don't think either of them understand the depths of what love really means.

but uh oh... here comes the paradigm shift for will...

we ALL know what i'm talking about here.

in this scene, mike is able to break will out of the weird trance thing with his monolouge, which for anybody who has forgotten, reads as such:

"Do you remember the first day that we met? It was…It was the first day of kindergarten. I knew nobody. I had no friends and… I just felt so alone and so scared, but… I saw you on the swings and you were alone, too. You were just swinging by yourself. And I just walked up to you and… I asked. I asked if you wanted to be my friend. And you said yes. You said yes. It was the best thing I’ve ever done."

initially, i thought this monologue was just super sweet, but the implications actually run a lot deeper than this scene just being some kind of masked love confession. what are those implications?

vecna has will in a trance during this scene. vecna is the same monster who you only have a chance of surviving if something is tying you to the real world.

we see this with max and music, with el and the mike monologue.

the difference is, neither of those work because neither thing is strong enough.

what is strong enough to break will out of a vecna trance though is mike's honest, hearfelt words.

vecna is a monster who feeds on people who fundamentally don't have enough love in their life. this is why he chooses will in the first place. henry creel was a deeply troubled child who didn't have any kind of love in his life, leaving him susceptible to become vecna when taken to the upside down. will on the other hand comes from an abusive home and is bullied in school. this seems like the perfect target for somebody feeding off people lacking that kind of support in their lives. only vecna gets it wrong, because will does have that unwavering, devoted, love in his life. that is mike.

mike who refuses to give up on him even after his body is found. mike who waits with him in the hospital for days. mike who was always the first to make sure he's okay.

the hospital scene opens will's eyes to this, which is why i'm calling this the unitalized "oh" in your "oh... oh" moment. this is will realizing there's something deeper. this is his first inclination.

byler: season 3

throughout the course of early season 3 or during the gap between seasons is when i like to believe will was starting to realize what that "something deeper" for mike was. although i think objectively season four is the most important byler season to date, i think season three is when it really solidifies itself into the brains of our characters that they are in fact in love with each other.

the first scene i want to focus on when discussing season three is the infamous rain fight, in which i believe will has already realized his feelings for mike.

in my eyes, mike wasn't actively trying to be like "it's not my fault that you're gay"- i do think that he meant to say "it's not my fault you don't like girls yet" but that with the erasure of that word, the initial meaning and what mike meant to say left with it. they both know how his words sound and the implication of what they must mean.

i mean, look at will's face. this isn't even the best screenshot of it, and you can still tell how the words struck a deeper meaning in him.

his initial reaction after the fight to go and tear down castle byers also helps us a lot with the narrative and even relates back to vecna.

jonothan and will build castle byers as a save haven to escape from lonnie and his abuse. lonnie's abuse is what directly relates will to henry and his cause. by tearing down castle byers, will is actively destroying his safe haven as a way to cope with the person who showed him the vecna-defeating love not loving him the same way anymore. even though mike apologizes, they don't have a real concrete conclusion that solidifies for will that mike cares about him in the same way that he once did. they do have something though-

the moving scene. mike's paradigm shift.

when mike and el talk in this scene their conversation begins with el confronting mike with the thing that scares him- the falsehood of his love for her. mike spends the beginning of this scene playing coy, trying his hardest not to play into what she's saying until she has to be upfront about it. when they kiss, mike thinks- something is off. i can't reciprocate her feelings.

you can see it when his eyes are open, you can hear it when he pretends not to know what shes talking about. mike is uncomfortable with the notion of being in a relationship with el because he knows it's not something he will ever realistically be able to have. not really.

then in his conversation with will, we get more resolution to their fight from earlier, a real and honest conversation. i can't remember which happens first, but both make sense.

if the el conversation happens first:

mike talking to will shows his comfort level with will over el and how inevitably he will always be able to be himself with him.

if the conversation with el happens first, this goofy little face is his "oh...oh" moment in a "this feels different in a good way sense.

if the will conversation with el happens first:

mike's hostility towards el shows how negatively he sees her after being with somebody that he truly does love

if the conversation with will happens first, this is the "oh... oh" moment.

either way, this is when mike realizes that he has feelings for will that are entirely different than the platonic ones he feels for el. this is him realizing that there's a difference between strong platonic adoration and real romantic love.

to further back myself up on this being the moment™️ for him, this is him immediately after.

this is the face of a boy who has just had his entire world rattled, the face of somebody who has just realized that he is in fact gay and in love with his best friend, and that he will never feel the same way for el (or any other girl) that he does for will.

boom, mike drop (haha)

byler: between season 3 and 4

since vecna is watching at all times, he's starting to pick up on this and realize that the all encompassing love that will needs to break free from vecna's grasps is becoming more imminent by the second. so naturally he starts to fuck with things.

first and foremost, mike not being able to call, therefore severing ties between him and will, was orchestrated by vecna. vecna can manipulate time, making it entirely feasible that will never got mike's calls to begin with.

now i bring u... lettergate!!

even though churchgate is my favorite gate, i fully believe that lettergate is real. it is absolutely canon to me. it makes perfect sense. the only other way for the two of them to communicate is via letters, and since will has been waiting for mike to reach out to him, the power is in mike's hands. however, like the writer he is, mike is really shitty at writing letters, so one never gets sent, leading to further miscommunication and cause for vecna to make will believe that he isn't loved.

byler: season 4

the first byler scene we talk about from season four is almost an extension of the in between season stuff. this scene is the airport scene, where mike's fully fledged feelings for will prevent him from hugging him back out of fear of it making things awkward, leading will to believe, once again, that mike doesn't care about him.

similarly to how mike and will make up and then get interfered with by vecna at the end of season four and the gap before season four, the two fight and then make up the next morning, making for relatively smooth sailing between the two for the rest of the roadtrip. until mike decides to confide in will, that is.

mike's intention in that scene was to get out that he thinks his charade is failing without actually outright stating that he thinks his beard isn't convincing enough. he remarks about how he doesn't think el will need him anymore just like how he needs el to cover up who he truly is.

so then will shows him the painting. confesses his love for him behind a mask, leading mike to believe that there is still a way his relationship with el could work out. he doesn't want it to, he needs it to. we know this already.

but here vecna comes, this time inadvertently. in order to thwart vecna's plans, mike is forced to give this false love confession to el (which, by the way, doesn't work). making vecna at fault for will's newfound feelings of less love from mike. will is convinced that mike is far gone, which is why vecna is able to slip into will's head once again.

vecna is back and is ready to use will for his grander purpose of making him into a mini vecna after orchestrating the greatest use of the miscommunication trope of all time. he has successfully convinced will that mike doesn't love him, which will make him an easy pawn.

so where does this leave us?

with the end all be all answer to what will happen come season five. will will need to be broken out of vecna's possession to save the world from power too strong for el to dream of taking on- double vecnas. we've seen it with will before, and we will see it again, mike's love for him will be the only thing capable of breaking him free from vecna. mike's character arc of self loathing and insecurity will culminate with him realizing how he feels about will, will's character arc of exploited insecurity will end with him getting the one thing he wants, and vecna, in his last moments, will be made to believe in the central theme of the show, that love triumphs hate.