#but it's funny they're the first people who get blamed

[blathersthecat]

AU where Ford is a paranormal investigator who's specifically obsessed with the ghost side of things. He'd seen plenty of the average ghost but he wanted to know how their plane works and if there's a way to bridge the gap.

Ford at some point finds the writings in the cave as usual and doesn't know he summoned a straight up demon. Bill actually died with the rest of his people in his dimension, but while the others either moved on or became ghosts (that dwell inside Bill's mind), Bill became a demon instead.

Ford of course, eventually tries to stop making the bridge and gets stuck in the other plane and Stan (with Fiddleford in this) tries to bring him back to the land of the living.

Important context for the next line: Fiddleford's gun is different in this AU. It isn't much of a memory gun but makes the target be more inclined to ignore or become straight up blind to paranormal activity. So it's instead just called the Paranormal Eraser.

The Eraser, when used on Stan's mind, erased the paranormal activity in it, which Bill was, entirely. It was not made to be used at such a high power though (enough power to erase a literal demon) so this is what caused the memory loss because of all it erased.

Fiddleford has a lot changed in this AU so it's all below with some other lore:

- Fiddleford saw Bill in his demon form and heard screams of the dead when he saw across the bridge.

- Besides what happened to Stan, no one ever had the memory side effect like in the show. In this AU, Fiddleford stays fairly sane and doesn't ever start a cult since he regrets what he did pretty quickly after he realizes the paranormal can still mess with him but now he just won't know when they are and that terrifies him.

It's like seeing a ton of roaches in your room and putting on a blindfold so they won't stress you out, but obviously, you know they're still there and it makes it worse - IDK HOW ELSE TO EXPLAIN IT LMAO

- Fiddleford goes back to the shack to try to tell Ford frantically about his grave mistake. But he meets Stan instead. He starts to help Stan with the bridge out of guilt that Ford got taken by this awful stuff in his absence. He blames himself and thinks that Ford would've been okay if only if he stayed.

- Fiddleford has soo much anxiety when it comes to this stuff. He also regrets heavily how he can't help the family much whenever they need him because of his paranormal blindness. Fiddleford can't even see or hear Bill at all at first.

- During weirdmageddon, his head hurts constantly and he feels incredibly disoriented from all the paranormal stuff going on everywhere. But since it's so overwhelming, the effects of the gun start to wane and he actually starts to be able to see the paranormal again.

- Fiddleford was in on the lies with Stan (knows he's called Stanford, tries to tell the kids that Gravity Falls is completely normal, and goes to work with Stan every night)

- Gravity falls doesn't have tons of random anomalies but only has tons of paranormal/ghostly activity.

- The mystery shack is more spooky themed. Stan has a pretty funny blue and green van instead too. He definitely didn't do that to reference anything - the colors are also mixed up for 'copyright reasons')

- Ford was not able to be killed in the other plane since he was technically dead but it was perfectly possible to feel pain and be tortured so he definitely wanted to avoid that.

- Ford has to get used to having to eat, drink, and sleep again now that he's back alive.

- Ford is less upset with Fiddleford than with Stan which seems unfair to Fiddleford who gets very frustrated with Ford because of it since he has gathered a ton of respect for Stan over all these years.

- Bill's goons are other evil spirits.

- The zodiac circle is replaced with an exorcism circle.

- Fiddleford, Stan, and Ford all become ghost hunters together after the kids leave.

Feel free to send any asks about this AU. This is my pride and joy now, oh my god

[imjustusingthistolikeartists]

Dracula Daily 10/30

Something bad happens in Galataz

Random citizen: SLOVAKS

[fujosh1dreamer]

Alright Apology Tour... I don't even know where to start for this episode.

So I'll start with this statement:

I want them to make it work.

Surprise, surprise but I think that when stolas and blitz aren't forcing it, they are actually cute together.

This is my favorite scene from the episode because stolas just falls into blitz's arms and blitz just holds him.

He cares, it's obvious that blitz cares but I think he's still unaware of how much. I also think that stolas know that blitz cares.

In the conversation at the beginning of the episode there are two scenes that kinda prove this.

In the first scene blitz is talking about how relationships are boring and not worth it, and stolas leans on the table and basically asks him if he thinks that then what are they doing now.

Which is a valid question, because blitz is clearly fighting for them right now. He's doing a terrible job and saying all the wrong things but he is there. Stolas understandably gets annoyed and walks off when blitz side steps the question.

The next scene where we see that stolas is aware at least a little of how blitz feels is when he's fake apologizing. He pretty much says 'oh I'm supposed to apologize for thinking so badly of myself I push people who actually care about me away? And stolas just says yes.

There are moments of clarity that tell me blitz is completely aware of his faults but other moments that make me think differently. When stolas says he sounds like striker he denied it. Only to continue to mock stoas for being a prince and completely disrespecting him.

I feel like if blitz had approached the conversation in the garden like he had the one at the party things would have gone better.

Speaking of the party. The stolas song was amazing, and it was basically about how stolas still has feeling for blitz but he just doesn't think blitz cares. Which is a fair feeling since blitz left the garden basically telling stolas he'd apologize to everyone but him. Which was a petty thing to say.

Stolas hating the party despite the song is also really funny, up until the end of the episode that is. Stolas complained to himself the entire time how ridiculous and petty it is to host a party like this every year, he even continues that thought process while drunk.

Also while drunk stolas explained to blitz how he's looking for a romantic love. He wants to be loved and wanted by someone special a conversation that of course makes blitz feel bad but stolas can't see that.

This is the moment that cemented my belief of wanting them together. They're both so casual in this scene stolas because he's drunk and blitz because he's feeling vulnerable and guilty.

They still have a natural chemistry and quick witty dialog that flows naturally. They fit well together even when fighting, but only when they're not forcing the relationship. Only when stolas doesn't have blitz on a pedestal, and when blitz isn't blaming stolas for all of his problems. As equals they work.

I wanna see them make up.

[jellybonbons]

Shared Apartment, Shared Feelings

Leon Kennedy x gn afab!reader

CW: 18+ (mdni), virgin reader, college roommate au, retired fuckboy!leon, vendetta trio (chris, leon & rebecca), talks about virginity/relationship/trauma (car accident), fluff/angst/smut, a lot of kissing, dick piercing, oral job (afab receiving), pussy slapping, thigh jobs, aftercare.

Words: 7.4k

A/N: special thanks to my wife @roseglazedlens for beta reading and helping me with the banners <3 muah muah

Without a doubt, college is such a drag. It’s a wonder you haven’t given up on yourself already, with all the assignments piling up, submissions one after another, professors breathing down your neck, dealing with crappy groupmates and customers from your part-time job. But here you are, almost three years deep into your degree, with no turning back now.

You sighed, feeling the strain in your fingers from typing away all day. The pressure was real with an assignment due in just a few days. You tried to unwind with a book and music, but the impending thought of reading through another paragraph might just make your head explode. 

It’s been known that college can get pretty lonely at times. Sure, you've got friends here and there, but they're all caught up in their own stuff, on top of all that, their partners. This is when you wish you had one yourself. You've had your fair share of relationships or flings in the past, but it never really went beyond first base – blame it on your commitment issues and insecurities.

Virginity is a funny thing, isn't it? Some people don't really give it much thought, while others, like yourself, see it as a significant part of who they are. To you, it's more than just a physical state – it's about vulnerability, about letting someone in and truly being seen. Maybe that's why your relationships never seem to last long. You realise now that you settled for them, not for yourself. You were caught up in the idea of a relationship rather than being honest with yourself about what you truly wanted and needed. 

Heading into college, you finally found yourself crushing on someone – your roommate, Leon Kennedy. Your first meeting was awkward, to say the least. It started with your classmate-turned-friend, Rebecca Chambers, asking if you wanted to live with her and two of her friends since they had an extra room. Without hesitation, you agreed – after all, why not? Splitting the rent between four people and having a bigger apartment than your current one sounded like a win-win. But when you finally met her two friends, it felt like you stumbled upon an adorable squirrel with her two guard dogs.

You could definitely say that Leon and his other friend, Chris Redfield, were pretty protective of her, but Rebecca reassured them that she trusted you and thought you were a lovely person – bless her heart. From that day on, the tension slowly dissipated, and all of you learned how to live with each other, quirks and all. If there was ever a disagreement, Chris would call for a 'family meeting' to sort things out.

You've grown close to both Chris and Rebecca, but with Leon, it's different. He's close, yet there's still a sense of distance.

—

Exhibit A: 

The huge, comfortable couch in the living room was decorated with a mismatched assortment of decorative pillows, giving the area a homely, well-worn feel. The walls were covered in posters of bands, and a shelf next to it held a tidy collection of DVDs. Game controllers, remote controls, and empty food wrappers were frequently strewn all over the coffee table – no matter how many times Rebecca told Chris and Leon to clean them up. The room had the ideal ambience for movie evenings thanks to the floor lamp's warm glow and the fairy lights. 

You noticed that Leon would always have your favourite snacks on hand, without you even needing to ask. But then again, he made sure to get snacks for everyone else too. You never once mentioned your favourite snacks to him – you guess he might have overheard you talking to Rebecca in the dining area while he was playing video games with Chris in the living room that one time.

"Here," Leon said, passing you the brightly wrapped package after doling out snacks to the others.

“Thanks,” you said, taking them from Leon. “How did you know these are my favourites?”

He shrugged casually. “Maybe I'm just good at picking up on things.” 

"But I've never told you," you pointed out, genuinely curious.

Leon hesitated for a moment, his gaze meeting yours. "I've got my ways of finding out,” he replied cryptically before turning away to grab a drink.

You raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced by his response. “Oh, well, thanks again.”

"Oh my god! It's been so long since I've eaten those," Rebecca, who was cuddled up next to you, exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she gazed at your snacks. You chuckled at her enthusiasm.

"You want some?" you offered, opening the snack package. 

"Yes, please!" she eagerly replied.

If you had turned back, you would have noticed Leon's ears turning a faint shade of red, but you were too focused on sharing the snacks with Rebecca to notice his reaction.

Exhibit B: 

Amidst the chaos of exam week, you and Chris had taken over the living room for a study session. Notes, textbooks, and Post-it notes were strewn everywhere, creating a cluttered workspace. Rebecca had wisely chosen to isolate herself in her room, knowing that if she joined you two, it would devolve into gossip rather than studying. As for Leon, he preferred the solitude of studying alone.

By 2 am, Chris had already succumbed to exhaustion, snoring away on the couch. Meanwhile, you were hunched over your notes on the floor, frustration building as you re-read the material for what felt like the hundredth time. A headache was starting to form, exacerbated by the late hour and Chris' snoring.

Lost in your work, you didn't notice Leon's quiet approach until he set a hot mug of green tea on the coffee table beside you. "Take a break," he said casually, before moving over to Chris and gently nudging him awake, signaling that it was time for him to call it a night.

"Hey, wake up," Leon whispered.

Chris grunted in response, rolling over to his side and snoring loudly. Leon couldn't help but roll his eyes and deliver a – gentle – punch to Chris's arm, hoping it would be enough to jolt him awake.

"Ouch! Damn, Leon, that hurts," Chris groaned, rubbing his arm where Leon had punched him.

Leon, unapologetic, raised an eyebrow at Chris. "Maybe if you didn't snore like a freight train, I wouldn't have to resort to violence." 

Chris, still rubbing his arm, shot you a playful glare. "Well, if someone didn't study so quietly, maybe I wouldn't need to fill the room with my soothing snores."

"Don't look at me, I'm just trying to study peacefully," you retorted, raising your hand in mock surrender while cradling the mug in your other.

"Yeah, right. Your snores are like lullabies, Chris. I almost fell asleep while making my late-night snack,” Leon said with a slight smirk. 

Chris mockingly gasped. "You wound me, Leon. My snores are an art form." 

You chuckled. "Well, gentlemen, whether it's an art form or a lullaby, it's time for the masterpiece to take a break. Chris, go get some beauty sleep." Chris nodded.

"You too, don't stay up too late," Leon said to you, shooting a glance in your direction before grabbing Chris by his shirt.

"I'm up, I'm up," Chris protested, his voice muffled as Leon playfully put him in a headlock and guided him towards his room.

You couldn't help but chuckle at their antics, taking another sip of your tea as you watched them disappear down the hallway.

—

You found yourself in a dilemma. Leon had always been just a friend, but lately, you couldn't shake off the growing attraction you felt towards him. It wasn't just his physical appearance that drew you in, although his blue eyes, his piercings and the little details about him were certainly captivating. It was the way he was always there for you, that’s what friends are for, right?

You discovered that you couldn't stop thinking about him, day or night. His presence seemed to linger in your mind, occupying your thoughts even when you were supposed to be focusing on something else. You couldn't help but notice the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his video game strategies or the way he would absentmindedly run his hand through his hair when he was deep in thought. And those moles scattered across his skin, you found yourself itching to trace your fingers over them, to memorise every little detail of him. 

But despite your growing feelings, you were hesitant to act on them. You cherished the ‘friendship’ you shared with Leon and you were afraid of risking it by admitting your true feelings. So for now, you kept your emotions buried deep within, hoping that they would eventually fade away – but they didn’t.

— 

Leon had been sceptical when Rebecca first introduced you to him and Chris. He thought you might have ulterior motives, using her to get closer to him for his body. After all, he had a reputation as a fuckboy, although he considered himself a retired one now. That's why both him and Chris were so protective of her; he didn't want to drag Rebecca into his messy past again.

However, Leon was genuinely surprised when he discovered that you didn't know much about his past. While you were aware of his existence, you weren't deeply immersed in campus drama, preferring to spend your time online with other interests. You treated him like any other person, and he found himself grateful for that. In the past, he had been the worst version of himself, indulging in alcohol, weed, and sex, using his body to get whatever he wanted. But hey, in this economy, whatever works. 

He had grown accustomed to people using him, whether it was for physical gratification or emotional support. It was the darkest chapter of his history, and his once-close friendship with Chris and Rebecca had deteriorated to the point where they were practically strangers, but that was six months ago. Now they were back to being three peas in a pod, their bond stronger than ever.

Then came that one fateful night – that one awful night – when he had drunk too much and made the reckless decision to drive home while intoxicated from a party. What great friends he had. 

As Leon stirred awake in the hospital room, the rhythmic beeping of machines punctured the air, accompanied by the clinical scent of antiseptic. His gaze fell upon Rebecca, slumbering peacefully in a chair beside his bed, though the fatigue evident in the bags beneath her eyes spoke of restless nights spent by his side. Summoning what little strength he could muster, he attempted to rouse her with a feeble movement of his finger.

Suddenly, Chris burst into the room, bearing two cups of coffee in hand. The sight of Leon awake nearly caused him to fumble the cups, hastily setting them down on a nearby table before rushing to his friend's bedside with evident concern. Rebecca, startled by Chris's sudden entrance and booming voice, blinked awake in a daze.

“Leon, you’re awake!” Rebecca's smile lit up the room as she clasped Leon's uninjured hand in hers.

Leon attempted to speak, but his dry throat betrayed him. Swift to notice, Chris quickly retrieved a water bottle and a straw for Leon. While Rebecca, with practised ease adjusted the bed to a more comfortable position, allowing Leon to sit up slightly. As soon as the straw touched his lips, Leon didn't hesitate to take a much-needed sip, the cool water soothing his parched throat.

Once he had quenched his thirst, Leon managed a weak smile of gratitude, his gaze shifting between Chris and Rebecca. "Thanks, guys," he murmured hoarsely, his voice still rough from disuse. 

"Was anyone else hurt?” he asked anxiously, recalling the events of the previous night with a sense of dread. He knew he had made a terrible mistake by driving under the influence, and he dreaded the thought of anyone else being harmed because of his actions. 

Chris exchanged a glance with Rebecca before answering, his expression sombre. "It was just you, Leon," he replied gently, placing a comforting hand on Leon's shoulder. "You're lucky, man. Could've been a lot worse."

Rebecca nodded in agreement, her worry evident in her eyes. "We're just glad you're okay," she added softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

For once in his life, he let his tears flow freely, openly crying in front of them. There were many reasons for his tears, but two stood out: their unwavering support despite his past behaviour and the stark realisation of how close he came to losing everything. It felt like a wake-up call, a sign that he needed to change his ways.

As both Chris and Rebecca leaned in for an embrace, he felt the warmth of their love enveloping him. That moment marked a new beginning for them. They took turns caring for him, offering support and encouragement every step of the way. And with their help, he began to see a therapist to address his trauma and work through his issues, determined to become a better version of himself.

He knew he wasn't perfect, but he was steadily making progress.

—

You were like a breath of fresh air, bringing a sense of normalcy to Leon's life outside his close circle of friends. The more he observed you, the more smitten he became. He found himself falling hard for you, enchanted by the melody of your voice and the way your smile lit up the room. Even when you laughed at his silly jokes while Chris and Rebecca remained unimpressed, it only deepened his infatuation. From your quick wit to your undeniable charm, he felt like a lovesick puppy in your presence. 

Many moments with you left a lasting impression on Leon. One night, he had fallen asleep on the couch, and you had just returned from a night shift. Spotting Leon asleep, you crept, careful not to disturb him. You gently placed your belongings on the dining table before quietly slipping into his room to retrieve a blanket.

You returned with the blanket and draped them over him, ensuring he stayed warm throughout the night. As you crouched down beside him, you couldn't resist the urge to tuck a loose strand of his hair behind his ear, smiling softly at the peaceful expression on his sleeping face. 

As you quietly left the room and retreated to your own, Leon being the light sleeper he was, felt a rush of emotions flooding through him. His heart raced as he became aware of your proximity, even in his slumber. The gentle touch of your hand and the warmth of your presence lingered in his mind, leaving him feeling strangely comforted yet unsettled all at once. It was a moment he couldn't shake, stirring something within him that he couldn't quite put into words.

These mixed emotions were still present during another memorable moment, when you, Chris, Rebecca, and Leon gathered for a pizza dinner. Chris, in his usual generous fashion, ordered a variety – cheese, pepperoni, and BBQ pizzas. The living room transformed into a makeshift dining area as you all settled in to watch a movie while enjoying the feast. Despite the lively atmosphere, Leon found himself quietly observing you, the feelings from the previous night still lingering in his mind, adding a layer of depth to the otherwise ordinary gathering.

Whatever, he shook his thoughts away.

As the pizza boxes opened, Leon grabbed a slice of the BBQ pizza, only to discover a surplus of onions. His displeasure was evident and despite his efforts to discreetly pick off the offending toppings, the struggle did not go unnoticed by you.

Your laughter bubbled up as you observed Leon's onion-removing antics. "Not a fan of onions, huh?" you teased.

"Nah, I don’t like the extra crunch," Leon replied, continuing to pick them off.

You extended your plate towards him. "Just give them to me; I like onions," you offered with a smile.

"Really? Thanks," Leon responded, handing you the onion-laden slices.

"You need to stop being such a picky eater, Leon," Chris chimed in between bites of his pizza.

Leon shook his head defiantly. "Nope, not happening," he retorted, earning a round of laughter from the group.

Rebecca joined in, adding with a playful grin, "Hey, at least now we know who the real onion lover is around here!" 

After your laughter died down, you couldn't help but sneak a glance at Leon – you loved onions, but little did they know that you had a particular disdain for red onions.

Despite all this, Leon couldn't shake the memories that haunted him. Beneath the surface of his laidback demeanour lay a vulnerability he had yet to reveal to anyone outside his close circle of friends.

It was a sunny morning as you and Leon walked side by side to class, chatting idly about your schedules. But then your conversation was abruptly interrupted by the screech of tyres from behind, a sharp, piercing sound that seemed to echo through Leon's bones.

Without warning, Leon's steps faltered, his body freezing in place as his breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened with fear, his muscles tensing as if preparing for impact.

You sensed the shift in his demeanour immediately, instincts kicking in as you turned to face him, concern etched across your features. "Leon?" you called softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "Are you okay?"

"Don't," he said sharply, his voice tinged with a mixture of desperation and frustration. "Please, just... don't touch me."

You froze, your heart sinking at the rejection. You had never seen Leon react like this before, and the realisation only fueled your determination to help him.

"Okay," you said softly, pulling your hand back. "I won't touch you. But I'm here, Leon. You're not alone."

Leon's breaths came in short, ragged gasps, his gaze fixed on the ground as he struggled to regain control of his racing thoughts.

Thinking quickly, you searched for another way to reach him. You remembered the breathing exercises you learned from the internet, the rhythmic pattern designed to calm the mind in moments of distress.

"Leon," you said gently, your voice a steady anchor in the storm of his panic. "Listen to me. We're going to try something, okay? Just focus on my voice."

Leon nodded hesitantly, his gaze flickering up to meet yours.

"Close your eyes," you instructed, your own voice calm and measured. "Now, take a deep breath in through your nose... and out through your mouth. Good. Now, let's do it again. In... and out."

Together, both of you repeated the breathing exercises; Leon's tense muscles gradually relaxing with each steady breath. You kept your voice low and soothing, guiding him through the process with gentle encouragement.

The chaotic noise of the campus faded into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of your shared breaths. And with each passing moment, Leon felt the grip of panic loosening its hold, replaced by a sense of calm and clarity.

"Thank you," Leon whispered as he finally opened his eyes, his voice hoarse with overwhelming emotions.

 "Anytime.” You smiled softly at him.

—

You were attractive, considerate, attentive, but sometimes sarcastic — all the more reason to love you. So imagine his surprise when, during one of your deep conversations, you dropped the bombshell: "I'm still a virgin."

Leon's reaction was immediate. "Wait, what?" His eyes widened in disbelief, and he nearly choked on the iced tea Rebecca had made for everyone.

You couldn't help but smirk at his reaction, finding his surprise somewhat amusing. "Yeah, I know, right?" you replied casually, trying to downplay the moment. "Just never felt the rush, I guess."

Leon's expression softened, his initial shock giving way to an understanding. "Well, that's... unexpected," he admitted, his voice laced with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. "But hey, it's your choice, and there's nothing wrong with that."

"Yeah," you said, taking a sip of the iced tea. You couldn't help but grimace as the sweetness hit your taste buds; Rebecca had gone a bit overboard with the sugar again. “I guess, I just have a hard time trusting people to truly see me, you get it?” you said, revealing a vulnerability that Leon hadn't seen before. 

“Just the idea of letting someone see a vulnerable side of you and then, things fall apart, and that person is not in your life anymore... it's terrifying."

Leon nodded thoughtfully, the flicker of a reassuring smile appearing on his lips. "I get it," he responded softly, his eyes reflecting understanding. 

"It's hard to open up when you've been hurt before. But not everyone is the same, you know? And sometimes, taking that risk can lead to something beautiful."

"Yeah, but I’m not ready to take that risk," you pondered, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Leon leaned forward, his expression gentle. "That's okay," he said. "It's all about timing, and when you're ready, you'll know. Until then, just focus on being true to yourself." If the old Leon heard this, he would cringe in disgust at how poetic he has become. 

“Aw, look at you, Mr. Wise man,” you teased, playfully punching his shoulder.

“Hey, I have experience, okay,” he chuckled, offering a playful wink. "Life's full of surprises, and you never know when the right person might come along." Leon thought to himself, hoping silently that he could be that person for you.

To be your person — it was a dream he cherished deeply. He already felt privileged enough to see you with your dishevelled hair every morning, to enjoy the breakfasts you made, to hear you humming to yourself as you cleaned the apartment, and to witness all the little quirks that made you... you.

Like the way you always insisted on starting your day with a cup of hot warm water because of its health benefits. Or how you had a habit of tapping your fingers on any surface whenever you were anxious. The way you collect little trinkets and gift them to others because they reminded you of them, or how you could never resist stopping to take pictures of the sky when it looked especially pretty. The way you scrunch your nose when you laugh, and how you always double-knot your shoelaces because "you can't be too careful,” even though they somehow always come undone, so he has to tie them for you again — cue to Rebecca and Chris giggling quietly at the back.

“Yeah, who knows?” you replied with a smile, stopping him from his daydreaming state. 

Leon looked into your eyes, a gentle warmth spreading through his chest. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you at that moment. Your smiles softened, and a comfortable silence settled between you. Time felt like it slowed down as you both gazed at each other, the unspoken words and hidden shared feelings hanging in the air.

However, the moment was cut short when cock-block Chris slid the balcony doors open, surprising you guys. 

"Hey, sorry to interrupt," Chris said, his voice breaking the momentary silence. "But I thought you might want to join us for board games. Rebecca's been bugging me to drag you both inside.”

You chuckled at Chris's interruption. "Sure, sounds like fun," you replied, shooting a playful glance at Leon.

Leon grinned in response, a twinkle in his eye as he nodded in agreement. "Let's go then," he said, rising from his seat and motioning for you to follow. 

“Can’t wait to beat you in Monopoly,” you added with a mischievous grin, earning a playful scoff from Leon.

“Dream on,” Leon replied with a playful smirk, grabbing both his and your drink before heading back inside.

“Hey, we know Rebecca is the master of Monopoly,” Chris chimed in.

"Yeah, you’re right, she always bankrupts us within the first hour," you agreed with a laugh.

"Alright, let's see if we can finally overthrow the reigning champion," Leon said with determination, leading the way back inside.

—

You should have been spending your weekend with friends, but alas, the call of assignments beckoned you to spend the week in your room. Your fingers moved on autopilot as you typed away on your laptop, nearing the end of your essay. All that remained were the conclusion and the references. 

This was the second time you had to redo this assignment. Your professor, Dr. Wesker, critiqued it during the tutorial, and it fell short of his expectations, so you had to incorporate the points you had missed. You made a mental note to give him three stars in the end-of-semester review – that being generous — and to punch Chris because he said Wesker’s class was easy. No, it was not; Wesker made sure to run the class like the Navy.

As the evening turned into night, you fueled your essay-writing spree with a touch of spite. The anticipation of going to the new jazz bar in your area with your friends was the added motivation. Empty instant coffee cans littered your desk, proving your determination. In the apartment, it was just you and Leon; Chris was visiting his sister, Claire, while Rebecca was out on a date with Billy. Helping Rebecca get ready had only made you more jealous of her evening out. Ever the sweetheart, she noticed you were down and promised to bring back treats for you as a reward.

The apartment felt unusually quiet, with only the hum of your laptop and the distant sounds of city life filtering through the windows. The silence was a stark reminder of the fun you were missing out on. Yet, there was a strange comfort in knowing Leon was just in the other room, a silent presence that somehow made the tedious task of essay writing a bit more bearable.

However, the universe was not on your side as your old laptop finally decided to give up on you. Despite all your efforts — charging, troubleshooting, and pleading — it refused to turn back on. "No, no, no, no!" you exclaimed, punctuating each word with a frustrated slam of your hand against the desk. Scratch that, Dr. Wesker is getting only one star and a long paragraph in the comment section.

Hearing the commotion from Leon’s bedroom, he paused his game and rushed into your room. "What happened?!" he asked, concern etched on his face.

You looked at him with tears streaming down your face. "My laptop won't open," you said.

His face softened as he approached you. "I'm assuming you've tried everything," he remarked.

"Yes!" you exclaimed, frustration evident in your voice.

"Okay, okay, calm down," Leon reassured you, his tone soothing. "What did you use to do your assignment on?" he inquired, rolling your chair closer to him and kneeling down in front of you.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. "Google Docs," you replied.

He nodded reassuringly. "Okay, they have an auto-save feature, so your work is still there. In the meantime, you can use mine." Leon wiped away your tears with his thumb. "I know a guy who can fix your laptop, so you don't have to worry."

Leon's comforting touch eased your tension slightly. "Thanks," you said, your voice wavering with emotion. "I'm sorry for lashing out. It's just….it’s been a stressful week."

He offered you a sympathetic smile. "No need to apologise," he said softly. "We all have our moments.”

"You're too good for me," you whispered, your gratitude evident in your eyes.

Leon's sympathetic expression softened further as he gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "Hey, don't say that," he replied earnestly. "You're amazing, and anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend. And if you ever need someone to talk to or help you through tough times, I'm here for you, always.”

“I could say the same thing about you,” you said softly as you wiped the remaining tears away.

There was a moment of silence, filled only by the sound of the gentle hum of the air conditioner and the soft rhythm of your breathing. Then, you hesitated before speaking again.

"Leon... there's something I've been meaning to tell you," you began, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know we're friends, but... lately, I've been feeling something more. I can't shake this feeling that there's something between us, something deeper?"

Leon's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he didn't interrupt as you continued.

"I understand if you don't feel the same way," you said, the words tumbling out in a rush as you fidget with your fingers, feeling vulnerable and exposed. "I just needed to get it off my chest."

For a moment, there was only silence as Leon processed your words. Then, he reached out and gently took your hand in his, stopping you from fidgeting. On the inside, he was literally jumping up and down and screaming internally. His heart raced with excitement and joy, but he kept his composure, squeezing your hand gently to convey his feelings.

“I... I've been feeling the same way," he admitted quietly, his voice filled with emotion. "I didn't know if you felt the same, but… I've been wanting to tell you how I feel for a while now." His hands felt warm against your cold ones, a reassuring touch that sent a shiver down your spine.

"But are you sure you want to be with someone like me? I’m a bit damaged,” he confessed, his voice carrying a hint of insecurity. As you shared a tender gaze, his vulnerability spilled out. 

"At the same time… I want to be with you. You keep me grounded, and every day I feel like I'm becoming a better version of myself because of you. But I don’t want to burden you with my baggage."

Your heart swelled with affection as you reached out to cup his face, gently wiping away the traces of doubt etched there. "Leon, I see you, all of you, and I wouldn't have it any other way.”

“Being damaged doesn’t make you any less worthy of love and happiness. We all have our scars and struggles. What matters is that you’re taking steps to heal, to become the best version of yourself. And I want to be there for you, every step of the way.”

At that moment, Leon knew he couldn't let his fears hold him back any longer.

Leon’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as he leaned in closer, his breath mingling with yours. The world seemed to stand still as he closed the gap between you, capturing your lips in a passionate heartfelt kiss. His hands moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear to be apart. 

The kiss was intense, filled with all the emotions he couldn’t put into words—  the love, the gratitude, the desire. His lips moved against yours with fervent need, and as you responded, you could feel the weight of his insecurities lifting, replaced by the warmth of your mutual affection. 

Breaking the kiss, Leon scooped you up from your chair with ease, his arms strong and secure around you. He carried you to your bed and gently laid you down, his gaze never leaving yours. The tenderness in his eyes spoke volumes as he caressed your face.

"You mean everything to me, and I want to be the one you can always rely on." He leaned in for another kiss, sealing his promise with the warmth of his embrace. “Just how I can rely on you.”

When Leon's words settled in, you felt a rush of emotion swell in your chest. You reached up, your fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the slight stubble beneath your touch and moving down to his neck where his moles were. The tenderness in his eyes was almost overwhelming, and you could see the sincerity behind every word he had spoken.

Leon let out a gasp as your fingers continued their gentle exploration, the touch feeling soft and human against his skin. He couldn’t even remember the last time someone touched him so tenderly. Letting out a sigh of contentment, he buried his face against your neck, inhaling your familiar scent—the comforting mix of laundry detergent and coffee, so wonderfully homey.

“God, you don’t know how much you've softened me.” He chuckled softly, his lips trailing kisses along your neck.

You couldn't help but tease him, a playful glint in your eyes. "Oh, is that so?" you murmured, a smile tugging at your lips. "Big, tough Leon going all soft on me?"

He lifted his head, meeting your gaze with a grin. "Yeah, you have that effect on me," he admitted. "Never thought I'd be saying that."

You laughed softly, your fingers brushing through his hair. "Well, I kind of like this softer side of you," you teased, your eyes sparkling. "Makes me feel special."

"You are special," Leon whispered, his expression turning serious. "More than you know."

“Leon…I’m ready,” you said, your voice steady but your heart racing.

“Ready for what, sweetheart?” he asked, the endearment rolling off his tongue naturally. He liked how it felt, unlike the generic terms, ‘Babe’ and ‘Baby’ he had used for his past flings when he didn’t bother to remember their names.

“Ready… for you to take my virginity.”

Leon’s eyes widened slightly before he softened, his expression filled with tenderness. "Oh… you're so precious. Not now, okay? I want to take you out on a date first."

“But—”

“No buts,” he interrupted gently. “I can make you feel good without taking it…do you trust me?”

“I do,” you replied, feeling a rush of warmth.

“Then just relax," he said softly. "I’m here, and I’ll gladly help you release your stress.”

Without another word, Leon closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a passionate, desperate kiss — a culmination of months of longing and pent-up desire. All your worries and stress melted away as you sought solace in each other’s embrace.

As the kiss deepened, Leon’s hands roamed over your body, pulling you closer with a strong need to please you. The hunger and longing that had built up over the months drove you both, igniting a fire that burned with an intensity neither of you had ever felt before.

Leon’s fingers deftly found the hem of your sweater, slowly lifting it up and over your head. As your bare skin met the cool air, a wave of shyness washed over you. Instinctively, you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to cover yourself. 

Leon paused, his eyes filled with a mixture of admiration and gentle reassurance. He reached out, his hands gently removing yours from your chest. “Don’t hide from me,” he whispered, his voice soft but firm. “You’re beautiful, and I want to see all of you.” He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, and you felt your body relax under his touch, trusting him completely.

“Leon…” 

With a reassuring smile, Leon stepped back slightly and grasped the hem of his own shirt. In one smooth motion, he pulled it over his head, revealing the defined lines of his chest, the faint scars that marked his skin, and the tantalising happy trail leading down from his naval.

“See? Nothing to be shy about.” Leon had come so far, enduring countless battles, to reach this moment of vulnerability and softness with you.

You nodded, your cheeks flushing at the sight of his happy trail peeking through his sweatpants. His lips, slightly swollen from your shared kisses, only added to the heat coursing through you. The mere thought of kissing him had you feeling an ache between your legs — maybe those cringy scenes in films about virgin sex aren’t so fake after all. As you squeezed your thighs together unconsciously, he chuckled softly and gently pulled them apart.

"You okay there?" he teased, his voice laced with amusement.

You laughed nervously, trying to mask your embarrassment. "Yeah, just... overwhelmed, I guess."

Leon's chuckle deepened. "I'd say that's a good sign," he teased, his fingers tracing a soothing pattern on your thigh. "But let's take it slow, okay?"

Leon's fingers trailed along the curve of your thigh, a gentle caress that sent shivers down your spine. "Have you ever... touched yourself before?" he asked softly.

Your breath caught in your throat at his question, the sensation of his touch combined with the intimacy of his inquiry making your heart race. "Um, well... yeah," you replied hesitantly, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks.

Leon's touch became even more tender, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin as he leaned in closer. "Tell me about it," he murmured, his voice low and husky with desire. "I want to know everything."

“I... I just use my fingers,” you confessed, feeling a little embarrassed by the simplicity of your answer. You found yourself rambling about the prices of sex toys and how impractical they seemed, but Leon's attention was elsewhere as he trailed his fingers down to your clothed heat.

With unabashed hunger, he traced his fingertips over the fabric shielding your wetness, sending shivers through you. He moved lower, his mouth finding your inner thighs, licking and biting gently, his breath hot against your skin.

As you continued to ramble with hitched breaths, Leon nodded along, occasionally responding with a thoughtful "hmm" here and there. His lips pressed against your clothed mound and his tongue piercing tracing circles over the fabric. Each teasing lick and swirling motion sent shivers coursing through your body.

“Leon, fuck,” you moaned, bucking your hips toward his face.

His lips curled into a wicked smirk as he slid down your underwear, revealing your glistening folds. His tongue darted out, flicking against your swollen clit while his hands moved to your hips, holding you in place.

Leon savoured the taste of your arousal, relishing how you quivered beneath him, desperate for more. His lips closed around your clit, sucking gently while his tongue worked in skilled motions. As your moans filled the room, he intensified his assault, his tongue delving deeper and applying more pressure.

“You’re mine,” he murmured against your slick folds, his voice filled with possessiveness. “My special sweetheart.” With a playful yet firm touch, he lightly slapped your clit, eliciting a gasp from you.

Your breath hitched at Leon's possessive words and instinctively, wrapped your legs around his head, pulling him closer and squeezing them together in response. The sensation of his tongue and lips working so intimately against you, combined with the pressure of your thighs around him, heightened the intensity of your pleasure.

“Leon!” you babbled his name like a prayer as he worked his tongue on you. Each flick and swirl of his tongue made you tremble, the overwhelming sensation almost too much to bear. Your hands gripped the sheets, knuckles white, as you surrendered to him.

Lost in the intensity of the moment, Leon started to grind himself against the mattress. His sweatpants strained against his growing erection. He could feel the dampness of his pre-cum soaking through the fabric, each grind intensifying the need coursing through him. His cock strained painfully against the confines of his pants, desperate for release as he focused on bringing you to the edge of ecstasy.

Your breathing grew ragged, and you could feel the tightening coil of release building within you. Instinctively, your hands flew to his head, gripping his hair tightly as you arched your back, your body seeking more of his touch. The sharp tug made Leon grunt, a deep, guttural sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh. 

Despite the pain, he refused to relent, his determination evident in the way he continued to devour you. His hands gripped your hips, holding you firmly in place as his tongue and lips worked with relentless precision, pushing you closer and closer to the brink of ecstasy, refusing to let you go.

Finally, with a shuddering gasp, you surrendered to the overwhelming waves of pleasure crashing over you like a tidal bliss. Leon held you through it all, refusing to let you go until you were utterly undone beneath him, lost in the euphoria of the moment.

As you lay there, panting and trembling, Leon parted from your cunt, his chin and lips glistening with your release. He smirked, a wicked glint in his eyes, before tenderly kissing your clit. "You taste so sweet," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "I could devour you all night."

Your cheeks heated up due to his remarks, a turbulent rush of feelings that filled your senses with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. Under the intensity of his gaze, you quivered, feeling another desire surge through you again.

Leon leaned back, his eyes never leaving yours as he spat on your cunt, the warm liquid mixing with your own arousal. He clumsily peeled off his sweatpants, revealing his hard, straining cock. He positioned himself between your legs, pushing your thighs together to create a tight, plush space.

With a low groan, Leon began to stroke himself between your thighs, the friction against your slick skin sending jolts of pleasure through him. Each thrust caused his piercing to occasionally bump against your clit, sending thrilling shocks through your body and making you gasp with the unexpected sensation.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered, his eyes fixated on the scandalous sight before him — the view of his reddened and swollen tip emerging from the clutch of your thighs. 

You were certain Leon would leave bruises on your thighs from the way he was gripping them. “I’m gonna... gonna—shit,” Leon whimpered, quickening his pace. His thrusts became urgent and forceful, driven by an insatiable hunger for release. The air was filled with the sound of your moans and the slap of skin against skin. He leaned over you, shifting into a mating press with your legs squished to your chest and his balls slapping against your ass.

With a few more thrusts, Leon succumbed to the pleasure, his body tensing as he spilt himself between your thighs and stomach. Waves of ecstasy washed over him, and he continued to move, riding out his orgasm with a mix of intense relief and satisfaction. His body trembled with aftershocks and his breathing erratic as he slowly descended from the high.

As Leon collapsed beside you, panting and spent, he realised that you hadn't come for the second time. He then shifted his position, propping himself up on one elbow as he glanced down at your flushed form. Seeing the need still evident in your eyes, he gently brushed his fingers over your slick folds, seeking out your swollen clit.

"Let me take care of you again," he cooed as he began to rub gentle circles over your sensitive bud. With each stroke, he felt your body respond, the tension building once more as you whimpered and writhed beneath his touch.

Leon focused entirely on bringing you to the peak of pleasure, his movements deliberate and precise as he pushed you closer to the edge. Your moans grew louder, and your hips bucked against his hand, signalling how near you were to release. With a shuddering gasp, you finally reached your climax. Leon’s grip was steady as you trembled beneath him, lost in the overwhelming euphoria.

He pressed a loving kiss to your forehead before slipping out of bed. "I'll be right back," he whispered, leaving the room momentarily to grab a warm, damp towel. Returning swiftly, he carefully wiped away the sweat and traces of cum from your skin.

Once he finished, he picked up your discarded sweater from the floor and slipped it over your shoulders, ensuring you were comfortable. You nestled into its warmth as Leon retrieved his own sweatpants and pulled them on.

Returning to your side, he asked softly, "Feeling better?"

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips as you snuggled closer to him. "Yeah, much better. Thanks for taking care of me."

He smiled back, his eyes filled with affection, and gently massaged the nape of your neck. "How was the aftercare? It's my first time doing it."

You chuckled softly. "Honestly, I can't say much about it since I don't have any experience either."

Leon laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "Guess we're both new at this. Maybe I should include 'aftercare specialist' on my résumé."

You grinned, your eyes twinkling with amusement. "Yeah, but only if I get to be your reference."

He smirked, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Deal."

Pics are from pinterest and edited by: @roseglazedlens

Dividers by: @chachachannah

[l-in-the-light]

Trafalgar Law on touching and being touched

It won't be a perverted post despite the title lol. But I won't stop your imagination, be free!

There's this funny theme going on with Law and Luffy in particular that picked my interest.

Luffy touched him first.

And he later returned the gesture, much more awkwardly.

Again, Luffy grabbed him angrily first.

Law made sure to return the gesture. (btw he also does it with Zoro, who was the first one to wrap an arm around him at post-Dressrosa feast. In Wano Law has no problem grabbing Zoro and shouts at him angrily. Again, it was Zoro who initiated the touch first).

Law grabbing Luffy to teleport them makes Luffy react in a curious way, you wanna know why?

Because it totally feels like this moment. Both Law and Ace, right after getting uncuffed, grabbed Luffy in same way to get him to a safer place. Ace-Law parallel in relation to Luffy kills me. The whole Dressrosa arc's plotline between Luffy and Law is just Marineford Went Well This Time. Ngl I kinda hated Oda at first for that. Now i dig it.

He didn't seem to like that. Luffy says "Let's all get along well!", but Law thinks alliances don't have to "get along".

Mistranslation here. What Law says here, being so surprised, is "nakayoshi ka?!" which means "you two get along?!" or "you two are buddy-buddies?!". It's a callback to Luffy declaring that Law and Strawhats crew should get along (he uses same word then, nakayoku-get along), Law learns here that Luffy's crew indeed "gets along well". You can interpret it whatever way you wish, but I will use it this time to put this scene into context:

The same gesture Luffy did to him before, but Law didn't return it to Luffy - that's because they're not crewmates. But he takes the lesson to heart and "gets along" with his own crew. Omg I can't believe i'm writing it, I make Law sound like this completely awkward adult who doesn't know how to be friends with people.

But bear with me, the shit is only starting. If you don't want to have feels I reccommend you just laugh at it and stop reading here. I digged up a feels landmine by accident. In-depth study starts below!

It's also a possible callback to the "reassurance" Law got from Cora-san. "I'm counting on you to escape" and Law did. He counts for his crew to steer the submarine well in similar manner.

Law's family didn't seem very touchy-feely, so please keep that in mind as well. He's got limited experience with touches and the few touches he did get familiar with were either taken away from him or brutalized.

Law getting patted on the head lovingly by his parent.

Next time this loving gesture happens, he gets thrown from like two-floor building into a pile of garbage.

And then he gets lied to that everything will be fine. We all know it wasn't.

Do you still wonder why he hates being touched on the head?

The sister touches his face gently while showing child Law support and compassion, reminding him not to despair, someone kind will help him.

Corazon doing the same gentle touch to the face while crying for him, thinking of all the pain Law had to experience. Indeed, the world sent Law someone kind. And Law lost him and blames himself for that.

Law holding Lammy's hand while lying to her that it will be alright. He never does that gesture again to anyone.

The sister holding Law's hand.

"Don't come closer! Don't touch us! We will get infected!" even doing the barrier gesture (I guess that's why Law doesn't get along with Bartolomeo). I used only few examples, there is much more, I just couldn't bear posting them all. Anyway, Law's got the message, his touch is unwanted. The body and mind remembers this.

Similar shit said at the auction in Sabaody about Fishmen, we don't see Law's reaction to that, but we can guess already that it was for sure triggering. Those people talking are sitting not that far away from him.

Ever wondered why Law throws people when teleporting? Besides the fact he avoids making contact with anyone unless they initiate it first, because that trauma is still strong in him ("Stay away! Don't come closer!"), there is one other possible reason:

Wonder no more! He does it to people because that's how people treated him as well, even people who apparently loved him.

Now that I have ruined the "Law is just an awkward unsocial nerd" joke for you, let me offer something to warm your heart a bit in exchange:

Corazon made sure to touch Law a lot and hold him in his arms, despite being often clumsy about it. I think he understood Law's trauma about being touched and his fear to touch or approach anyone, and tried to help him overcome it.

Being hugged and trying to return the gesture. Corazon's efforts did bring some results! But it only works for very few people, Law is still wary of people he doesn't know well. He expects to be unwanted and acts uneccessarily cold, distant and unapproachable because of that. But if you scroll back to the beginning of this post, you can see that he is trying his best to overcome it as well, one step at a time. Some things just can't be rushed.

And hey, at least he seems to be actually relaxed and almost like he *enjoys* being carried around. You think it makes him look uncool? Definitely. But suddenly it feels like Something Important, kinda intimate in a way and not just a silly comedy moment. It's a sign Law relies on people when he lets them carry him and that's why he doesn't protest.

Sanji is like "Why are you relaxing like that?! Get off!!" Finally, it makes sense why Law makes such a sour face here. Sanji should be grateful for the rare privileage after all! Anyway, this is anime-only extension, in manga Sanji actually doesn't tell Traffy to get off and Law chooses to scramble by himself, which doesn't taint the fragile trust those two just shared.

For those who made it to the end of this post, have I ruined Law's comedy moments for you forever? Because I sure just did that for myself.

I could also add one more cute thing from One Piece World Seeker Law's dlc, but I will let those interested to discover it by themselves!

I'm also amazed by the consistency of this theme. Both manga and anime never forget that touch is seemingly a big deal for Law.

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Dating After A Toxic Relationship

A/N: Not requested, just an idea I had 😊 Remember, requests are open! Be sure to read my rules and please respect that I'm only interested in writing for these characters. Thank you! Feedback is always appreciated 💜

Butcher is very vocal. He knows you jump and scare easily, so he always makes a point to say where or if he's going to touch you, if he's upset and why (so that you don't worry you're the reason), when he'll be back, etc. This takes a lot of trial and error between the two of you. Butcher is an angry, violent person. You knew this going into the relationship. There's always a worry it could turn on you, and that's what he fears most: that you'd ever be afraid of him. He reassures you constantly he would never, ever hurt you. He knows all about what your ex did. You wanted to be up front and honest, knowing some of your behaviors might seem strange or out of place. The last thing he ever wants to do is emulate your ex and though it takes a lot of rewiring and assessment of his actions, he's trying to be better for you so that he doesn't lose you.

Hughie hates what your ex has done. Bit by bit, you give him the overview of your relationship, what they were like, and how they treated you. Sometimes you jump or flinch and he's reminded all over again that, despite what he does, there will always be this underlying fear and distrust. It took a long time to date him let alone tell him everything. He's patient and gentle and makes sure you're okay with every step you take further into the relationship. He takes every relationship show regardless of past history. When you see your ex again you have to pull Hughie away, not wanting him to start anything. He can't help it. He looks at them and he sees red. He's filled with disgust and hatred. Hughies always been on the timid side, but the thought of someone hurting you like that boils his blood.

Annie never wants you to feel like you have to hide that kind of thing from her. She knows all about power hungry people who take advantage of others. Still, she can't believe it. You're kind and funny and sweet and you always have everyone's best interest at heart. You know what it's like to get hurt, you wouldn't dare hurt someone else. She knows you don't want any trouble with them, you just want to move on, but she can't help but light up when she sees them. Secretly she goes to them and makes it known if they so much as look at you, even think about you, they're done. She's always asking if what you're doing is okay and wants to be as open as possible about boundaries. You're grateful she likes innocent touching, mostly hand holding, and when you're having a hard time you know she'll grab your hand and squeeze it, reminding you she's always here for you.

M.M knows all about your ex. He was the one to help you get out of that relationship in the first place. Since then you've become really close, so close he's now your boyfriend. After your ex shows up at your work one day, Marvin decides to take things into his own hands. The Boys make a special appearance at their apartment where they make it known they are never to go near you ever again. You have a lot of fears about trusting someone again, especially in a relationship, but M.M. is patient. He never wants you to feel like you have to do something you don't want to or aren't ready for. He's more than okay with taking things slow. He actually prefers it that way. He's extremely protective over you and, unfortunately, are his biggest weakness. If Homelander ever found out about you, M.M. would be done for.

Frenchie met your ex a few times before you broke things off. The way they spoke to you, wanted to control you, all the sings were there. He feels awful that he didn't see it sooner, but you could never blame him. You're just glad you got away from them. Frenchie is attentive and devoted and males sure you're comfortable with every step in your relationship. He offers, jokingly though not jokingly, to have your ex killed when they start sending calls and texts and emails. You assure him it's okay, you'll handle it. He knows you're more than capable, but he's always got a back up plan ready just in case they want to try anything more. He's extremely patient when you decide to tell him. He knows there's more to the story than what you're sharing, but he doesn't push it. He's grateful you shared anything at all. It's a big step and means a lot that you'd trust him.

Kimiko is learning to trust just like you are. You've both been through a lot, but you find a great solace in one another. Kimiko isn't sure who this random person is that shows up looking for you, only that the rest of The Boys are suddenly cagey, angry, and very protective. They're grateful you're not there. When she asks about them, you finally tell her. You dated a while ago and it wasn't a safe relationship. You thought you could get away from them, but they seek you out. They like to know they're in control. She feels awful. You're genuine and smart and sweet. Those terrible things that happened to you only made you softer and, unfortunately, more prone to anxiety and distrust. She leaves it up to you to take the next steps in your relationship. You appreciate more than you could ever put into words. You love her, but you need to take things slow.

Bonus! Homelander killed them a long time ago. The moment you showed up in his life, he knew there was someone who'd hurt you. It takes a long time to tell anyone, let alone him. One day the phone calls and texts and emails just stop. They stop showing up at Vought looking for you. You think you've finally scared them off or perhaps they got bored, but it was actually your new boyfriend. Normally he'd like to boast all about how he tortured them, h9w easy it was to kill them, how stupid they looked when he pulled out all their teeth, but he knows you wouldn't like that, so he keeps it to himself. He knows no one will miss them. You certainly don't. You're sleeping better now and getting more comfortable in your relationship without the constant threat of them showing up or following you. Homelander rests easy knowing they can never hurt you again. He lacks a lot of self-awareness in this department.

[korkorali]

The Misogyny of It All

So a lot of Della Duck Discourse is rehashed all the time, points are made again and again, but one thing that I almost never see people defend -and conversely, see people attack all the time- is The Line.

You know what I'm talking about. The Line from Glomtales.

"Your plans, your schemes, they only lead to bad things for your family. If you want to be a part of this family, you've gotta stop."

That one.

Now, what exactly Della was trying to get across with that line is a whole other can of worms that deserves its own post (basically she -and also the writers- horribly failed her Speech check).

What we're going over here is how that mimics a certain line from the last season, said by a parental figure to a child, that gets so much less flack. That, in fact, often gets paraded around as 'an interesting twist on a character.'

"You are not family!"

I have never seen people attack this line with the same amount of vitriol as they attack Della's, which is funny when they're the exact same line.

Actually, not even that- Scrooge's is worse.

It's more direct, it's literally yelled at Webby, it doesn't even attempt to address the issue Scrooge had (Webby blaming him for what happened to Della) and instead just straight-up attacks her as a person.

Now, to be fully honest- I like this line! I do genuinely think it's an interesting route for Scrooge to take, and is quite realistic to the grumpy old bastard. It's just funny that nobody ever comes to Webby's defense the same way they do for Louie.

Because the thing is- between Webby and Louie, one of these two has genuine, canonical issues with feeling like they're not a part of the family, like they're an outsider amongst those they love the most, like they don't belong.

And it's not Louie.

It is a consistent part of Webby's characterization that she feels like she doesn't belong. This gets touched on in all three seasons (and honestly, it could be argued that it gets worse after this moment).

Conversely, that just is not a part of Louie's canonical characterization. Even in the first episode of season 2, the one where Louie gets the closest to an 'I don't belong in this family' moment, it's less 'I don't belong here' and more 'fuck me I am terrible at adventuring'. And! It gets resolved in that episode!

(Of course, there is absolutely something to be said for how it's resolved- specifically by Scrooge encouraging him to be a scheming little bastard, which then thusly becomes the thing that threatens his family the most. Which would, logically, be a pretty big blow to his self-esteem. This isn't what I'm here to discuss right now but it is genuinely interesting.)

Louie never really shows an issue with feeling like he doesn't belong in his family. He shows a disconnect with his family at times, but in canon that never really evolves into a full-blown feeling of displacement. It does get close in Glomtales, but never quite reaches it.

So it's 'interesting' (read: not interesting) that Scrooge's fuckup here gets brushed away pretty easily. A lot of the time the line just straight-up isn't addressed, and when it is, often times it's about how "Oh he apologized to Webby offscreen, obviously."

Which.

Not he did not.

I mean, let me be clear: I don't mind it when that's the answer. It works for me to just brush it away if it's not meant to be the focus...

But Scrooge almost certainly didn't apologize for it.

As 'New Gods on the Block!' Showed us, Scrooge is downright awful at realizing when his actions have hurt people.

More likely than not, Scrooge would just assume that everything is fine and would avoid bringing it up at all costs because he'd feel awkward about it. Because he is, very importantly, not good at talking about things he doesn't want to talk about.

So why is it that Louie is always the one feeling like he doesn't belong? Why is it Della who is always a terrible parent for what she's said? Why are Webby's feelings of disconnect never really given the same gravity as Louie's? Why is Scrooge's blunder let off the hook super easily?

It just feels silly to me.

And, well.

Kinda like the fact that, since Scrooge is a guy and Webby's a girl, and Della is a woman and Louie's a boy, has something to do with it.

I'll happily give the benefit of the doubt and assume it's not deliberate, but quite frankly it is a double standard.

I think that people would be less upset with the Della Duck Discourse if Scrooge was held in a similarly critical position over what he's said and done. If it was acknowledged that Della isn't uniquely awful in what she says and does, and that a lot of the others have fucked up in extremely similar ways.

(I mean for fuck's sake, everybody goes on and on about how Della left her kids for ten years -which, for the record, wasn't what she wanted to do- but nobody ever criticizes Donald for taking the kids away from their family and never talking to them about Della- which is something he actively and deliberately chose to do)

TL;DR: The fact that Della gets intensely criticized for what she's said and done, but Donald and Scrooge are conversely celebrated as 'interesting' and 'complex' for what they've said and done, even when it brings harm to the kids, is a blatant double-standard. And if you don't think that this double-standard is bad or wrong for existing (or even that it Doesn't Actually Exist), instead of immediately claiming that it's a non-issue, maybe try to look inward and figure out why you really think that is.

[mellosdrawings]

With how Rook stalks Leona and Vil (is it really stalking with Vil if Vil is very much aware and consents enough for rook to be in the open?) if both of them date Jamil, would he also be stalked?

He's already hyper aware of his surroundings so adding rook into the mix feels like he should just get more time to sleep.

Thank you SO MUCH for asking! Lemme introduce you to Vil/Rook/Leona shipping, the sheer potential of Rook-Jamil, and my Rook metamour theory!

First, I'm a big Vil/Rook/Leona shipper. I call Rook/Leona the Hunter/Hunted ship. Who's the hunter? Who's the hunted? Who knows. As @aria-faye (THE Rook connoisseur who made me love Rook too lol) said, they both come from the same place, have the same culture, and are both somewhat outsiders in their own way. Rook doesn't really fit the Sunset Savanah stereotype or the Savanaclaw mentality in full. Leona doesn't fit the ideal of a prince and gets ostracized by his own people. Both of them work really well as a ship with Vil and it makes this funny Pomefiore-to-Savanaclaw pipeline with Rook in the middle, having been in both dorms.

For Jamil, once more quoting V "I feel like Rook kind of already keeps an eye on Jamil, a bit. He watches things he finds beautiful, and Jamil is definitely beautiful." Plus there didn't seem to be any adverse reaction from Jamil toward Rook for the entirety of book 5. And Rook is so desperately honest and true to himself that it contrasts completely with Jamil who still struggles to find himself after a lifetime of lying. He'd be a good push for Jamil to be more honest too, a good influence.

In relation to the N2 squad, here's my answer : METAMOUR. I'm already polyshipping 24/7, it might not yet be completely obvious in my blog but I ship more OT3 than actual couples. I work better with 3+ characters relationships than regular couples. So since Vil, Leona, and Jamil are already dating, why couldn't I add Rook too? He's not part of the N2 squad, but he's such a constant shadow to Vil that it's hard to imagine them away from each other. Leona and Jamil would start dating him fully knowing Rook is there and not leaving. Really, Rook would probably be Vil's first boyfriend before Leona and Jamil become a thing.

That doesn't mean Leona and Jamil would necessarily start dating Rook though, and that's where the metamour happens. They all share Vil, but whether there is a relationship between Leona and Rook, or Jamil and Rook is up to... my mood, mostly xD Or reader's interpretation I guess. Maybe they just get comfortable simply sharing Vil, maybe they have a sort of queer platonic relationship, maybe they're all dating.

I tend to treat Rook as a bonus when it comes to N2, because he doesn't fit the group, but it's hard to imagine him away, and he's so stupidly supportive that he'd probably be a good influence on forever-depressed-Leona and desperately-confused-Jamil.

Tldr : Jamil and Leona would start dating Vil knowing Rook would be there anyway, so if they ever feel uncomfortable about it they can only blame themselves.

(Who'd you think held the camera in those illus?)

[wannaeatramyeon]

Adventures of YOUR part time job in the Lookismverse

G/N. You work the graveyard shift in a convenience store. You meet bizarre characters on different nights. Part 1 | Part 2

The customers can usually be separated into 3 categories.

Drunks, students, and weirdos.

Unfortunately for you, lately the weirdos have turned into regulars. But fortunately the weirdos aren't so weird.

The one that made it a habit to check in on you, with the scars and the cheesy wink wasn't so bad. Jack, was it? You can't remember and it's been too long for you to ask. You awkwardly address him as 'you' and avoid any situation where you need to use his name.

He likes to ask how you are, tell a few jokes. Spirit undeterred even when you look at him with a blank face because bless his soul, he's not funny at all but at least he tries and he's a lot less weird than first impression.

He hangs around at odd times, then again you do only work at odd times. Telling you stories about this and that. Something about Big Deal, something about a guy called Sinu and something about another guy called Samuel.

It's difficult to keep track. It's like he wants to talk but he's cryptic and god, it's 4am who can blame you if your eyes are glazing over.

John, or is it Jerry, is waffling again. He seems to always be talking about Samuel. Who he apparently misses and wonders where it's gone wrong and hang on, he's never been explicit but you just had to know.

When he takes a breath to munch on a cookie, you ask, "Hold on, is Samuel your ex?"

Wait no his name is Jason, definitely Jason- freezes mid-chew, "Why would you say that? He's my friend!"

Joshua sprays crumbs all over you but you note how he doesn't say no.

(You think you see this Samuel one early morning. You’re pretty sure you’ve seen him before and man, he really looks like shit.

Looks like the breakup is getting to him too.

Poor Samuel and Poor Jim.)

.

.

But sometimes weirdos are just weirdos. 

It's ok. It comes with the territory so long as they're not in the habit of hurling abuse or whatever, you can deal with it.

In recent memory, there's only been two people that you have had to almost chase out with a broomstick.

You should have known they would be weirdos when one of them walks in in surprisingly teeny tiny purple camo shorts. Not that you're a pearl clutcher, but you're worried that one wrong move and he could be dangling out.

Besides. Purple. Camo. Shorts. Those words should never follow one after the other, and you repress a shudder at this guy's hideous dress sense when he comes up to you.

You thought the other one was alright, at least there's no hideous purple camo shorts in sight and his hair is nice (huh, this style must be popular, you’ve seen a lot of guys with this hair)-

But then he opens his mouth and asks for snakes and you think it's karma for judging camo-guy for his appearance when his friend is equally odd.

"We usually keep the snakes next to the ramen," you deadpan and the two men actually go to seek out the supposed snake (meat or pet purposes?) only to return moments later, empty-handed and looking confused.

"I think the snake is all sold out," Non-camo guy says as camo-guy glances around as if you might have hidden your snake stock elsewhere.

They must have thought you were stupid as you stood there opening and closing your mouth like a fish (or maybe a snake, do snake do these things), because come on, how are you even supposed to formulate a response to that?

Then you look at their eyes and also notice them looking snakey and surmise it must be some weird fetish thing. Pretending to be snakes and eating snakes and having pet snakes.

You want no part of this and tell them to get out.

.

.

"I'm Baek Hangyeol," a new face says, pointing to his ID badge pinned to the white coat. 

"Doctor Baek Hangyeol." He stresses Doctor and Hangyeol and you wonder if he is waiting for a round of applause.

You don't say anything but you do notice he looks like a teenager and what idiot would let a teenager operate on them. (Drunk, student, weirdo. He could be all three.) Doctor Baek Hangyeol must be bluffing.

You decide not to call him on his bullshit. 

"Cool," is all you respond with because you don't want another complaint for being too mouthy. You are half tempted to tell him you're not a doctor, that you just work here but that seemed kinda redundant so you keep your mouth shut.

"Do you believe in true beauty?" he asks when you finish bagging up his goods (a plain water with added minerals, a bottle of multivitamins and a protein shake) and you think what sort of question is that.

You give a halfhearted shrug and say "Sure" and he hands his business card over.

"If you're ever considering it," he tells you with a wild smile. After he has left you look down at the lettering, eyes zeroing in on ‘Plastic Surgery’.

Excuse me?! What is he trying to say?

You thought he was a weirdo but now he has firmly shifted over to asshole. You regret not telling him to go fuck himself while you had the chance. The complaint would 100% be worth it. Zero regrets.

On your break, you burn the card and feel a small sense of satisfaction.

.

.

A tall blonde guy with a creepy vibe (hold on, have you seen him before, he seems familiar. Then again, creepy blonde guys seem to be quite common around here-) walks in with the most billowing coat you have ever seen.

The entrance is kinda cool but the actual coat is kinda tragic with the cheesy red lettering and you wonder if you can pull it off any better than him.

You're still wondering about his coat when he's paying you, and hang on you have definitely seen him before because he says arigatou and hands over yen and you tell him no. Won only.

The idea of the coat, which has evolved into you fantasising about having a full blown cape, quickly loses its charm however, when the blonde gets caught in the automatic doors and you have to wrestle them open to free him.

Afterwards, you ask if he's ok, if he is harmed and can’t resist asking if the coat is ok too. You really don't want a lawsuit on your watch especially when the malfunctioning doors are not your fault.

Your kindness is repaid by him telling you he's not interested (what the fuck) and that his heart will not stray (again, what the fuck).

.

.

You accidentally eavesdrop on a couple of students lamenting about missing out on school work. You didn’t mean to eavesdrop ok, the aisles are tight and cramped, it’s a small space. 

You peek over, and the one with big ears (seriously, they are huge) is telling the one with his back to you (goodness, his back is huge too) that school is important and he’s got notes the other one can use. 

It’s sweet, you think. School is important and it’s good they recognise that. Nice of them to help each other out too.

When they both come to pay (holy shit, that’s a fuckton of chocolate milk), you’re surprised to find Big Ear’s friend, Big Back, looks anywhere between late 20s and early 40s but it’s never too late to catch up on education, you suppose.

You spend the rest of your shift feeling motivated.

.

.

“Going camping?” you ask the guy with the sandy blonde hair, chuckling nervously and ringing his items through. 

Either he’s going camping or he’s gonna kill and hide a dead body in the forest.

He’s pretty stoic, only giving you a curt nod. You can’t help but probe him a bit more. You’ve got a feeling that if or when the dead body turns up, you want to at least clear your conscience that you’ve tried your best so you make some more idle small talk.

You mention how you haven’t been camping for ages, not since you nearly burned your tent down and singed your hair after you tried to cook some marshmallows over a fire that turned out to be more of a raging bonfire (and might have awoken your pyromaniac streak, but you keep that to yourself).

The blonde guy actually pipes up and says “Master Taesoo would never do that.” 

You almost apologise out of principle due to how earnest he sounds, then he mentions something about how good this Master Taesoo is at catching and cooking snake and you wonder what the fuck is up with people and the snake obsession.

Either way, it doesn’t sound like someone is getting murdered. Only a snake (poor snake) so at least you can sleep easy later that day.

.

.

“Oh hi DG,” you say, “Sorry about your cryptocurrency falling through. Diegocoin was it?”

He blinks at you a few times in surprise and heavens above. What’s that saying, fool me once, shame on me; fool me twice, shame on you? This guy has fooled you exactly no times with his shitty disguises and his effort has substantially dwindled too. 

He has only put his hood up and you did think you might get mugged at one point-

It’s an empty store, for crying out loud. Who comes into an empty store in the asscrack of night with their hood up, not wanting to draw attention to themselves.

Then you notice the pink hair and shifty glance and duh.

“Is it the-?” he asks, putting his hood down and signalling to his hair.

“Yeah, it’s the-” you signal to your own head of hair. “Dude you really need to dye it if you’re going for subtle.” You pause, consider something, “Hold on.”

You walk over to the beauty aisle and grab the black hair dye.

“On the house,” you tell DG because this guy really has no self awareness.

.

.

“What do you mean no?”

“No." Your boyfriend peers down at you, arms crossed and at the end of his patience with you.

You open your mouth to argue- 

“No. You know nothing about Taekwondo. How can you work here?”

You look around helplessly at the studio. He’s not exactly wrong but you’re sick of dealing with the weirdos and the snakes and the creepy blondes. “But your dad-”

“I don’t care what that stupid old man says,”

“Taehoon!” Hansu scolds from the other side of the room, and Hansu's class of toddlers all whirl their head around to stare.

“I can learn?” you offer and Taehoon raises one skeptical brow.

“So you’re going to be a student?” You nod enthusiastically, “And we’re going to pay you for that?”

Oh. Damn. 

He’s got you there.

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

My Place or Yours? [Joel x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Ship: Joel Miller x you/f!reader

Tags/warnings: Reader doesn't like weddings, kissing.

Summary: You're being tortured at a wedding, but there is a man there who saves your evening.

Words: 1,550

A/N: This is written for the Summer Lovin' challenge by @pedgito, who also made the moodboard. I picked the theme 'wedding', which was a weird choice for me because I really hate weddings, but I got Joel to help me get through it. Enjoy!

”I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Had those magic words only been the end of your misery, this day would have been easy-peasy. But no, you wouldn’t get off the hook that easily. It was only the beginning of an evening filled with awkward speeches, parental tears, and drunk best men giving dubious toasts.

You just don’t do weddings well. Anyone you ever talked to would tell you that it’s because you’ve been burned, because you’re single, ”once you find Mr Right you’ll start to plan your own wedding!”, et cetera, et cetera. Maybe that’s true, but with your disposition, it doesn’t seem likely that you’ll ever understand the point of paying hundreds of thousands of dollars for one single day during which both your parents get to watch you make out after a minister has sprinkled some magic words over the two of you. It’s just not in your nature. You never dreamed about a fairytale wedding when you were little, and you thought your friends would wise up when you got older, but no. As soon as the question was popped, they all reverted back to their childhood selves, and began planning as if for the event of the millennia.

You’ve been to three weddings these last few years, and it doesn’t get any easier. It’s embarrassing, lavish, awkward, and weird. And as always, you’re there without a partner, and must sit there with a fake smile plastered on your face, with no one to bitch to. At least you’re not the only single one at this wedding; that’s happened before, and even if you didn’t mind being single, you were definitely feeling blue when you got home that night.

At least dinner is good. This particular bride isn’t following any fad diets that she’s forcing on everybody, so you’re enjoying a really delicious three course meal. Still, what would a wedding dinner be without interruptions in the form of long, meandering speeches? You are forced to put down your cutlery one too many times, and by the time you’re finishing your delicious medium rare steak, it’s already cold. Chasing leftover sauce with a piece of bread, you nod encouragingly at the waiter asking you if you want more wine. You want to ask them to leave the bottle, but they probably wouldn’t find it funny.

Too tired to make polite conversation, you start to wait for the unofficial break between main course and dessert, when people get up to stretch their legs. It’s your opportunity to get away for a bit. You even have a modus operandi for it: you bum a cigarette from one of the smokers even though you’ve never smoked, go to the side, and pretend to smoke it for as long as you can. If the venue is nice, you then walk around and inspect it. This wedding offers a lot in that aspect: it’s a big house, almost a mansion, in the countryside, with a park and lots of smaller, old buildings on the premises. Perfect for hiding, and then you can just return back to the dining-hall late and blame getting lost.

When the break finally is announced, you let the smokers leave first. By the time they're greedily sucking on their cigarettes, you show up and ask for one. Cigarette in hand, and nod in agreement with the light conversation: yes, it was a beautiful ceremony, yes, the dinner is delicious, yes, the bride is so pretty and the groom so handsome. Eventually, you make a break for it, saying something about wanting to see the premises. So you walk away, flicking away the pillar of ash on your unsmoked cigarette.

The din of the house grows distant as you walk across the yard, shamelessly dropping the cigarette and crushing it with your foot before heading for the garden, quickly as if to escape the disgusting smoke. Once you reach the first, fragrant rose bushes, you start to relax. You find a bench and sink down on it with a relieved sigh. The light breeze smells of oleander, the birds are chirping, and it's pleasantly warm. Perfect.

You dig into your evening bag and check your phone. No messages, of course: most of your friends are at the wedding. Putting the phone away to instead enjoy the garden, you remain seated for a little longer than you know is considered polite. When you finally rise to go back, you notice someone approaching you. A man, around your age, a friend of the groom's, you think, but you've never talked to him.

"Hi," he calls out. "You okay?"

"Sure," you nod easily, "I just needed some air."

"A lot calmer here, isn't it?" He's standing in front of you now, all broad shoulders and narrow hips. Very handsome, but you're feeling defensive, and when your answer delays a little too long, he clears his throat.

"Sorry. Hi." He extends his right hand. "Joel. I'm a friend of Mark's."

You take his hand and give him your name. He doesn't let go immediately after shaking your hand.

"Nice to meet you." That smile. Goddammit, that's a charming smile. When his warm hand finally unclasps yours, you want to reach for it again.

"Can I help you, Joel?" you ask instead, trying to sound unperturbed.

"I saw you leave and wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Why wouldn't I be okay?"

He shrugs lightly, passing a hand over his hair. A curl bounces back to gently lick his forehead.

"You just looked like you weren't maybe having such a good time."

Well, shit. You thought you  had been keeping a straight face, but clearly you had failed. Your gaze flickers, and you clear your throat.

“Don’t tell anyone, but I’m not good at weddings.”

He chuckles low, but not maliciously.

“It shows.”

“Yeah, well, it’s hard to keep a straight face for all these hours,” you snap, a little harsher than intended. Joel holds his hand to his chest.

“Didn’t mean to offend you.”

You shake your head. “Don’t worry. We better get back before they send out a search party.”

“Hey, lemme make it up to you. Can I have the first dance with you?”

Frowning, you eye him, expecting him to be joking. But his gaze is open and honest.

“Sure,” you eventually smile. “Find me when the dancing starts.”

And so it is that after dessert and another couple of meandering speeches, after the bride and groom have danced their first dance, Joel finds you in the crowd. He leads you to the dancefloor with a steady hand, and when he puts his arm around your waist, you don’t mind that his hand comes to a rest a little lower than expected. He keeps eye contact, but not in a creepy way as he makes small talk, asking you about your life more than he talks about his own. He seems genuinely interested in you, and that makes your head swim more than the alcohol.

When the music changes to something more energetic, you pull him to the side.

“Not my cup of tea,” you explain, and he nods, seemingly happy with being off the dancefloor as people begin to shake their asses.

“A drink?”

“Sure.”

He takes you to the bar and you both get drinks. The bride and her bridesmaids are cheering loudly on the dancefloor, and the noise is beginning to wear you down.

“Let’s go out?” you suggest to Joel, who nods.

There are some people scattered around the yard, but the garden is empty. The smell of roses is even stronger now when the hour is late, and you notice that you’re actually enjoying yourself. Joel is so easy to talk to, you’re comfortable in his company, and he makes you laugh.

“Hey,” you finally say. “Thanks for not being weird about me not liking weddings.”

“Why would I be weird about it?” He sounds genuinely surprised.

“Because everybody loves weddings, and I just can’t,” you shrug, but with a hint of desperation in your voice. “And if you don’t like them, then you’re just bitter and probably in need of the right person to have your own wedding with.”

He’s quiet for a moment, sips his drink.

“I know I can keep a secret,” he starts, his voice low, “but can you?”

“I can.”

“I don’t like weddings, either.”

You stare at him for a moment before slapping his arm.

“You could’ve told me earlier!”

He laughs. “I know, I know, I’m sorry!”

“Asshole!” you blurt out, but can’t say more, because Joel’s lips are on yours, and you drop your glass on the gravel where it shatters, splashing liquor over your feet. And you don’t give a single goddamn. Your hands come up to his shoulders, pulling him closer, and you kiss him back, tasting the whiskey on him, a peppery twang from the steak he had earlier, the bristles on his face scratching your skin.

When you finally have to step back to take a breather, he licks his lips and looks at you with heavy-lidded, dreamy eyes.

“Not too soon?”

“No,” you shake your head, “Just perfect.”

He grins. “How soon d’you think it would be polite to leave?”

“I don’t care, we’ve suffered enough. My place or yours?”

[lostinforestbound]

Could I request headcanons for Cal, Rolan, and Zevlor using their tail accidentally/purposely to stop their non-tiefling gender neutral crush from leaving yet?

Oooh what a fun one!! I can definitely do my best!

Cal, Rolan, and Zevlor Accidentally/Purposely Stopping Their Crush From Leaving

Cal

I see Cal as someone who can be very nervous around their crush without meaning to, at least as soon as he realizes he has a crush on them in the first place.

When he doesn't realize, he's very casual! He always wants to chat with them, and even actively looks for them when he knows they may be around, like at the tiefling party. When the realization hits him, he clams up.

His palms start getting sweaty, he stumbles over his words when he's put on the spot, he starts blushing whenever they put a hand on him; it's almost unbearable.

He wishes he was much more confident so he could just say what he feels, get it over with, but he doesn't want to ruin what he and his crush already have. He would rather stay quiet than possibly lose them over it.

He naturally gravitates towards them, and one day in the Elfsong Tavern, he chats them up. It was a casual conversation, and he barely paid attention to it, distracted by their face.

Then suddenly, they have to get going. Immediately he startles at that with a little "wait!" as they go, and his tail wraps around their calf.

Unfortunately, that causes them to trip on their feet. Everything happens very quickly! He reaches to grab them, but then he trips on the edge of a table, and they both crash onto the floor of the tavern.

He's immediately apologizing, helping them up and stuttering over his words, completely embarrassed by the whole ordeal. Gods, what was wrong with him?! They must hate him now! They'll never want to see him again!

His crush would suddenly start laughing, and he's shocked. He's worried that they're laughing at him but they reassure that they only find the situation is funny. "If you wanted me to stay you could have just asked!"

That's the moment he finally gets the courage to ask them out. He's absolutely delighted when they say yes, and he promises to make his tail behave.

Rolan

This would have happened during a fight. We all know that Rolan is short-tempered and can be snappy with people when upset. A good example is the first conversation with him at Last Light Inn.

But consider: What if that fight escalated? What if he took in further in his drunken state? What if he really let loose everything he's ever felt about them?

It's not intentional, he has a crush on them for hells sake, yet he's making a complete ass out of himself.

I imagine his crush (it could be Tav or someone else) practically drags him outside by the arm or ear so other people don't have to witness it, especially if things start getting personal.

They know he's extremely upset by what happened to his siblings, so at the time, they let him be angry at them. A silent encouragement to let it all out so he doesn't drag anyone else into this.

Honestly, it may bring the both of them near to tears. Rolan tends to say exactly what he feels in the moment, and sometimes it's really hurtful.

He finally calms, and he grimaces after realizing what he said to them. They turn to leave, and without thinking, his tail wraps around their ankle, as if having a mind of its own. Or maybe he truly wants them to stick around.

When they look back at him in confusion, he retracts his tail, mumbling something incomprehensible and stalks off along the shore. He doesn't look back, but gods, he feels guilty for yelling at them like back.

He definitely thinks he ruined his chance, and he doesn't blame his crush if they want nothing to do with him. But even so, after his siblings are saved, he intentionally wraps his tail around their wrist, asking to talk.

That's when he genuinely apologizes, for everything. His attitude, what he said, his drunken rage, all of it. His tail never lets go of them during since he wants them to listen. He looks up when his feels the spade getting thumbed by them, a smile of their face. He fell for them harder in that moment, and he hopes to formally ask them out after his apprenticeship is over.

Zevlor

Out of the other two tieflings on this list, Zevlor has a lot of control of his tail. He's a soldier, a Hellrider, he learned how to control every aspect of his body, including his pesky tail.

Anything he does with his tail would be on purpose, unless its relaxed and idle. He's gotten great at hiding what he feels by his hardening soldier days. Showing fear was not an option.

Even while he has a crush, he's the tiefling that hides it the best and doesn't change how he acts. He's still casual and open to conversation, but nothing more than that at first.

He's an older man now, his prime is long gone, and he has too many things to worry about. A silly crush is the least of his worries and he's very sure his crush does not feel the same about him.

This is especially after his failure in the Shadow Cursed Lands. He betrayed people who trusted him, leading them into a slaughter. How could his crush even look at him the same? He would never understand why they would still speak to him after everything, but here they are.

He notices his crush for them getting much bigger after that, but all he can think about is how pathetic he was for it. After all he's done? How dare he?

But he finds his purpose again during that final battle, and he finds his self-respect too. After the whole mess, he seeks his crush out to confess, just so he can have some closure on it. He'll never move on from these feelings otherwise.

It starts off as a casual conversation, making sure they were uninjured during the events, and them fussing over any injury he sustained. They were about to leave to find a healing potion, but he stops them with his tail around their waist.

When he lets go, he says everything on his mind about them. What he admires, how he feels, his hopes for their relationship. He's surprised by their excited affirmation that they feel the same, and his tail happily thumps on the wooden floor.

Throughout their relationship, he would start using his tail to tease them, especially to block them from going somewhere or grabbing them. He loves how it makes them laugh.

[her-satanic-wiles]

October 15th

Noncon, Possessed!Swiss x Reader

Masterlist ⛧ Hellish Delights Masterlist

Words: 6.8k

Warnings: Noncon; extreme horror; dead dove: do not eat; explicit use of the word “rape” throughout; public masturbation; exhibitionism; possession; violence; demonic asphyxiation; victim blaming; face-slapping; sexual violence; rape; rape-kink; characters acknowledge that it’s rape; piv; vaginal sex; unprotected sex; pain; degradation; public sex; mind break; underprepared; dacrophilia; unconcious sex; multiple scenes; dubcon; fear play; breeding kink; cum eating; accidental filming via security camera; creampie;

The Ghouls aren't demons in my fic. They're humans who work in the Ministry but they're a different class of profession, somewhere between personal assistants and body guards depending on the importance of Papa's task.

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this is dark fiction, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my rating. Thank you.

**WARNING**

This is a work of fiction based in the extreme horror category and should be treated as such. I do not condone the actions the characters make, nor am I actively encouraging others to participate in such actions in everyday life. It also does not reflect the personalities of the performers who play these characters.

The purpose of this fic is to shock, scare, entertain, and make readers entirely uncomfortable. If you are not in a headspace where you can safely read and enjoy this story, or even if the trigger warnings make you uncomfortable, I highly recommend and encourage you not to read this. Your mental health is more important than a work of fiction.

If you are struggling to come to terms with past trauma, please talk to someone and seek professional help.

You deserve to feel safe, loved and cared for. Thank you.

Sometimes rituals went wrong. That was one of the things you learned when you first joined the Ministry. Rituals go wrong and not every demon is your friend. Of course, the more rituals one participated in determined the success of said ritual just down to the fact that experience was a key ingredient and so it was always recommended to bring someone who had experience to every single ritual just to be safe.

Papa Copia’s Ghouls were the more experienced ones in the Ministry, but more specifically Mountain, Rain, Swiss, and Dew. Yourself and Phantom were mere babes in comparison; sweet summer children who knew nothing of life and Satanism, only sex rituals on pentagrams give funny dreams and great orgasms. Because of this, you and Phantom walked into the ritual room with a bit of a pep in your steps, and no worries or concerns whatsoever - not concerning yourselves with seriousness or responsibility. This was just a regular, sex magick ritual surrounded by friends in order to contact the Olde One and get some advice is all. You had done this perfectly before, and you had no reason to think it wouldn’t happen again.

You, Rain and Mountain began lighting the candles in the room, ten of them to be precise. One for each of the pentagram’s corners, and a further five to outline the space in between. Dewdrop, the most experienced of everyone there, was in charge of drawing the pentagram from scratch. The first step was to scrub away the existing paint from a previous Sibling’s ritual.

“Why are we doing this?” Phantom asked as he wrung out the hot, soapy water from the sponge.

Dew sighed, “Did you not pay attention during training, Phantom?”

Swiss was now on his hands and knees next to Dew scrubbing at the red paint with a hard-bristled brush. “Clearly not. Look at those eyes: no thoughts just vibes.”

Phantom threw some of the soapy water at Swiss, in turn earning himself a middle finger. “I didn’t have time to study, remember? I was just thrown straight into life here after Aether…” Phantom trailed off, remembering how so many people in the room weren’t ready to talk about what happened. There was a brief silence while they all cast their minds back to their long lost friend.

“We clean off the old pentagram,” Dew said, clearly exasperated by his Satanic brothers, “because we don’t know what kind of ritual our Siblings performed before we got here. Cleaning the floor allows us to better control the safety of our ritual.”

“What could happen if we don’t clean up?” Phantom asked. “Moreover, what would happen if we just built upon these lines?”

“Oh come on, Phantom.” You said. “Even I know that.” Phantom got on his knees and began scrubbing away the paint on his third of the pentagram. “The cross energy between rituals and magic opens up a gateway for negative energy to come through. Sometimes that energy is just bad karma or bad luck, and you have one hell of a week.”

Swiss, “Literally.”

You continued, “Or it’s the souls of the damned coming through, or worse, demons.”

Phantom, “Has the Dark One ever travelled through these portals?”

Dew, “Probably. But He doesn’t do it often.”

“What I still don’t understand is why demons and damned souls would want to hurt us, we’re all on the same side, after all.”

Mountain, “Catholicism. You give energy to things you believe in, which in turn makes it more powerful, right?” Phantom nodded. “This is why Lucifer Himself wouldn’t come to harm us because we love and worship Him as a friend, a lover, a brother etc. But according to Catholicism, why does Hell exist?”

“To punish bad people after they die.”

“And what do we know happens to these bad people when they spend an eternity being tortured by demons?”

“They become demons themselves.”

“Good boy, have a Scooby snack.” Mountain threw a packet of mini-Oreos at Phantom, who caught it with one hand.

Rain, “Some of those bad people become demons, not all of them. The majority of demons are created by Lucifer as assistants to Him, and they’re usually picked from the petty criminals rather than genocidal maniacs and bigoted pricks. Like Mephistopheles, for example. He was just a businessman before he died. Think Ebenezer Scrooge, but in real life. Stole from the poor to put in his back pocket. In comparison to say, I don’t know, Stalin, he wasn’t too bad of a guy. If Mephistopheles showed up, we would have a great time sending him back. We’d just have to watch our wallets.”

Phantom, “And if it’s one of the dangerous ones, it would be catastrophic?”

Dew, “Absolutely. Papa and the Clergy would have to get involved. Papa would have to contact the Olde One directly to come and drag the beast away. Contacting the Olde One with the ritual that Papa would need could put Papa in mortal danger. So, we clean to save Papa as well as ourselves. So, make sure you get every spot, you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

That was the first mistake made that night: no one double checked before the paint went down that the previous paint had been cleaned completely. From eye-level, everything looked squeaky. But what none of you realised at the time was there were small, insignificant specs of paint left in Swiss’ third. Insignificant specs, but by no means safe.

The second mistake was that when the candles were being placed on the freshly painted pentagram, one of them wasn’t precisely sat atop one of the points. The candles usually acted as an extra barrier of protection, essentially trapping something inside the pentagram if it came through uninvited. Lower level demons or spirits could still be trapped if the candles weren’t precise, but the higher level ones wouldn’t be stopped.

The five Ghouls were there to conduct the ritual on Papa’s behalf, you were there to provide the energy to allow them to do so. This wasn’t your first ritual and so you had no problems at all getting completely naked in front of the five men you considered to be close friends, and sitting in the centre of the pentagram. You’d been part of these rituals before with them, if you hadn’t already had a few of them balls deep inside you on multiple occasions beforehand. And so when they had all joined hands, you had no shyness or reservations about spreading your legs and exposing yourself to them. This would be the third mistake.

Swiss wasn’t concentrating fully. If you’d have opened your eyes and looked at your friends holding hands around you as they chanted, you would have seen Swiss looking directly at you with his mouth open, watching as you touched yourself surrounded by men. You would have seen that he was concentrating on your hands toying with your clit more than chanting the Latin required to safely perform the ritual. You could have stopped the ritual because of it - but you didn’t. You didn’t know that there was a problem.

Your head was thrown back in pleasure as your fingers worked over your clit. Your body was draining of energy the closer and closer you got to orgasm. In your line of sight, you could see Rain looking back at you but his mouth reciting the Latin he’d learned. You couldn’t see Rain’s eyes, though you were desperate to know what he looked like under there right now. All eyes were on you, and it turned you on so much to know that you were being intensely watched by five masked men as you dipped two fingers into your cunt and began to hit your g-spot.

Masked men, the fifth mistake.

Had they all removed their masks, everyone would have seen the biggest problem in the room: Swiss. Not only had he stopped chanting in order to concentrate on your wetness, but his head had begun twitching. Had he not worn his mask, others would have seen his eyes glaze over and roll back into his head. They’d have noticed the white dimming into pitch blackness. They’d have been able to break the circle and preemptively send the demon back to Hell before it could fully appear in the real world. But as hot as the masks were, and as much as you loved looking at them, they were impractical and unsafe for private rituals.

The air grew thick with an unholy presence, and a palpable darkness descended upon the ritual site. The very ground seemed to tremble beneath your feet as a foul wind swirled around you, extinguishing the candles one by one.

As the ritual reached its zenith, a sudden surge of malevolent force swept through the circle, causing you all to recoil in terror. Swiss let out a deep, yet blood curdling scream causing everyone in the room to stop what they were doing and freeze, yourself included. Your wet hand now removing itself from your core and your body sitting up straight in alarm. By the time you’d focused on him, Swiss had broken the circle and was cupping his head over his helmet, as though he was in immense pain. His screaming continued as he doubled over, bent at the waist and yelling at the floor. Swiss’ voice, now filled with an otherworldly resonance, grew louder and more insistent, his body trembling with an eerie energy. One of his hands began to hit at the mask in an attempt to stop whatever was causing him so much discomfort.

“Swiss!” Dew shouted, running over to his friend. “Brother, focus! Come back to us! Phantom! Go get help, now!”

Phantom nodded and ran out the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Swiss, it’s me: it’s Dew. What’s wrong, brother?”

“My… head!” Swiss exclaimed through gritted teeth. “It’s in my head!”

You stood up and dressed yourself, making sure that at least your habit was covering you. All the while, you watched as Dew frantically tried to get answers out of his brother, and figure out what went wrong so he could help. Swiss was still screaming, still trying to escape out of Dew’s grasp.

Then silence.

Swiss stood straight. Still. No more screams of pain, no more frantic Dew. You couldn’t even hear the world outside the ritual room. Just maddening silence that could drive a person to insanity if they were in it for too long. Everyone remained unmoving, fearing even breathing in case it triggered something. You wanted to leave, to escape the room and get help - or even just pull your friends out and save them. But your body wouldn’t move. It wouldn’t respond to your brain’s pleas to get the fuck away.

In that chilling moment, a grotesque transformation overtook Swiss. His voice, now distorted and filled with malice, spoke words that were not his own. It was a demon that had taken hold of him, a malefic entity summoned from the abyss.

The demon had been called forth by all of the mistakes made that night. It reveled in the chaos and despair that surrounded it, relishing the opportunity to wreak havoc upon the mortal realm. With Swiss as its vessel, the demon’s power knew no bounds.

The demon’s dark presence continued to grow, casting a sinister pall over the entire Ministry. Outside of the room, a sense of unease began to spread. Siblings and Ghouls alike could feel the malevolence that radiated from the heart of the Ministry, an unnatural darkness that seemed to seep into their very souls. It was as if the very fabric of reality had been torn asunder, and the boundary between the mortal realm and the abyss had grown thin.

Everyone was simply afraid to speak, to move, to even breathe. There was a comfort in the silence that couldn’t be explained other than Swiss hadn’t attacked anyone or made any movements. You weren’t even sure if Swiss was still in there. No one move, no one blink, no one make any sounds.

Swiss moved first - his head shifting from Ghoul to Ghoul to you as though he were studying you all. He seemed more like a caged animal than a human as he weighed up his options, though he wasn’t entirely registering what he was seeing. Each room was designed with at least some kind of demonic suppressor so you knew whoever had stolen Swiss from you didn’t have the full extent of his powers. But as he’d barely done anything, you still couldn’t gauge just how dangerous he was.

Suddenly, Swiss’ eyes locked onto you and focused on nothing else. Your body was still very scantily clad in your habit, your legs fully on display even though you were hiding behind Mountain. Swiss’ mouth curled up into a sinister smile. “He likes you.” Two voices emerged from his throat, the first being Swiss’ sweet timbre, the second the demonic entity inside of him. “I am in his head. I know. I see.” He took a small step forward. “He has sinned against you. He does so nightly.” Another step. “He imagines things in his chambers when he is alone. He wants to bury himself deep inside you. Even today during the ritual, he considered getting on his knees and taking you in front of everyone.” Another step. That was when you all realised the final mistake: you.

Swiss got possessed because he was watching you masturbate in front of him. He got possessed because he was craving your body, your touch. He got possessed because he was concentrating on how you’d feel wrapped around him and didn’t pay attention to the most important things. You never should have been chosen for the ritual. You never should have agreed.

Swiss spoke again. “I think we should give him what he wants, don’t you?”

“You stay away from her!” Dew shouted. He’d gained enough confidence and bravery to step forward, arms outstretched, and ready to restrain Swiss. Or at least attempt to anyway. Dew was much, much smaller than Swiss, so even when he wasn’t possessed by a demonic entity, restraining him alone would have been damn near impossible. But the added power now coursing through Swiss’ human veins made restraint way more difficult.

All Swiss had to do was lift his hand and Dew was levitating from the ground. A simple push saw Dew flying backwards, his head smacking against the wall and his body falling limp to the floor.

“Dew!” Rain shouted. It was a natural reflex done out of fear and it caused him to lurch forward. The demon, presuming Rain had moved to attack him, copied the motion and threw Rain against the wall too, the sweetest of all the Ghouls now unmoving on the other side of the room.

Mountain still held you behind him and for every step the demon took towards you, Mountain moved you backwards. You could tell he was trying to move you towards the door without taking his eyes off of Swiss. But deep down you both knew that while Mountain was a worthy opponent for Swiss, he was no match for the thing possessing him. All Mountain could do was hope that you at least got out of the room safely especially now that the demon had its eyes on you.

“Give her willingly and your life will be spared.” Swiss’ two voices cut through the panicked silence.

“No.” Mountain said.

Swiss raised his hand into a fist and concentrated on Mountain. Mountain, like the others, was now being raised off the ground, but this time Swiss was being torturous, enjoying the pain he was inflicting internally. Mountain grasped at his throat as if a hand had been wrapped around it, and struggled to get air into his lungs. “___,” he choked out, “go!”

Somehow your body responded to the sound of his voice and you made a break for the door. There was a part of you that knew you’d never reach it - that knew you’d end up in a worse fate than your friends, but you still tried anyway. Maybe if you left, you would be able to find more help to bring. Maybe you’d run into Phantom or Papa, just someone who could come and save everyone. You refused to believe that they were all dead - you would have given up if you thought that. So for all the good it did you, you chose to run. You chose to fight as best you could.

Behind you, Mountain’s body thudded to the floor, but you could hear him gasping for breath. Swiss, who was now focussing on you trying to make your escape, didn’t put the full extent of his powers into hurting Mountain as he did Dewdrop and Rain. Mountain was weakened from the impact but he wasn’t unconscious… yet. But now you had no protection - now you were completely vulnerable.

You managed to get the door open, but by then, it was too late, Swiss had already come up behind you and slammed it shut again. His large hands grabbed onto your waist, thick fingers digging into your flesh and manoeuvring you to where he wanted you. Your own back slammed against the door and you were met with Swiss’ cold, unfeeling mask, glass eyepieces only showing a glimpse of the blackened eyes that had completely stripped away the humanity from one of your closest friends. His once beautiful smile brought you nothing but happiness now evil and no doubt the last thing you’d ever see. You struggled, fighting against the unholy strength that had caught you, but of course, you were no match for him - in fact, he seemed to enjoy you struggling. In your frantic movements, your hip grazed his and you felt his cock now standing hard beneath his Ghoulish uniform. You knew what was coming.

He cackled, the two voices giving a creepier edge to something so joyous. His free hand came to remove the helmet and allowed you to gaze at the face that was going to bring you so much pain. His eyes were, indeed, as black as you’d been told. Veins were popping from beneath his skin, no doubt Swiss straining from the inside to expel the demon from within but failing miserably. Even though you could hear it wasn’t Swiss, and you could see the eyes certainly weren’t his, it was so difficult to differentiate between demon and human. Your brain struggled reminding you that Swiss wasn’t the one who’d hurt your friends; that he wasn’t the one rubbing his clothed cock against your thigh; that his hand wasn’t squeezing one of your soft breasts so painfully hard; that it wasn’t his tongue licking a stripe from your neck to your ear.

You pushed against his large chest trying to distance yourself, but it was as if you were trying to move the Ministry itself. He wasn’t budging. “Get. Off. Me!” You grunted in your exertion.

“This Ghoul wants you - you would deny him? You would deny him after the show you put on for him?”

“There was no show!”

“Really? Because you angled your body to give him the perfect view of,” the hand that was on your breast now moved to your crotch and gripped your vulva tightly - so tightly you screamed, “this cunt. You wanted him to touch you. You were asking for him to take you. Begging for it, were you not?”

“I wasn’t!”

“Lying whore!” He slapped your face hard enough to leave a mark, the bite knocking you off kilter for a second and making the room spin. He grasped hold of your cheeks and forced you to look at him. He took his opportunity to kiss you, forcefully pressing his mouth to yours and using his tongue to lick over your unresponsive lips. Taking this opportunity, you kneed him in his crotch now extra sensitive from all the blood that had pooled there. This gave you enough respite from his attack to push him away from you and attempt an escape. The door was locked shut this time, though. And it didn’t matter anyway, he was faster than you thought.

His thick forearm wrapped around your neck and pulled your body flush against his. “You like pain, hm?” This time, when he spoke, he used only Swiss’ voice. He tightened his arm and began cutting off the air supply to your lungs. “You want me to make it hurt?”

“Swiss!” You choked from his anaconda-like grasp. “Stop!”

“He cannot help you now, little one. But I have made sure he can see everything.”

With one hand on your shoulder, he released you from his chokehold long enough to push you hard to the ground. As you stumbled and collapsed, you felt the skirt of your habit rising up over your bare ass cheeks, which earned another menacing snicker from the demon. “Look at you. The little Jezebel is ready for her master’s cock.”

“No!”

You got onto your hands and knees ready to stand and run, but you felt Swiss’ boot on your exposed backside and stamping you back down flush to the floor. Wasting no more time or effort, he straddled your hips to keep you pinned down and pressed his entire weight onto you. Over the sound of your struggling, you heard his jeans zipper undoing.

“Still some energy in you, I see.” He taunted as he placed his hands where his thighs were and moved further down your body, still fighting you. “I wonder how long that will last.”

You braved a look behind you to see if there was anything further you could do, but caught a glimpse of what Swiss was sporting under his clothes. Now he was fully exposed, you truly saw his length and girth for what it was and dread pooled in your stomach. The pain you were about to feel was beyond terrifying.

“Which hole should we rape?” Swiss asked, lining himself up with your ass and rubbing against the rim. “This one?”

“No! Please! Let me go!”

“Or this one?” He then rubbed over the entrance to your cunt and gasped. “She is wet! The whore is ready to accept Satan’s gift! She wants it even though she deludes herself otherwise.”

“I don’t want it.”

“Ghoul, which hole do you fantasize about the most, hm? Which one do you want us to rape today?” There was silence for a moment and you could swear you heard Swiss’ screams - similar screams to when he was first possessed. “Her tight, little cunt hm?”

He lined up once more with your hole, and you tried again to escape from underneath him. “Swiss! Please stop! Please! No!” Your wriggling proved useless when you felt him press inside you.

The pain was beyond anything you’d felt before, a searing white hot pain that shot through your entire body and only continued the more of him entered you. He wasn’t gentle with his movements, as expected from a demon. He bottomed out almost immediately, hitting your cervix roughly and causing you to scream. “He was right,” Swiss said, “you do feel incredible. This hole was made for cock, no wonder he spent all his time drooling over you.” He pulled out and thrust back in laughing at your pain-filled scream. “I have kept him awake so that he can remember this gift the Unholy Father has bestowed. More material for him to think about in the darkness of his room.”

“Please, stop!” Your voice was high pitched now and tears were staining your cheeks as your hands covered your mouth to muffle your cries. Your distraught sobs caught the demon’s attention, however, and he wanted his gratification.

He wrapped Swiss’ hand in your hair and tugged your face off the floor. Your mouth was hung open from your weeping and your screams escaped every time he thrust in and hit your cervix. “That is right, scream for him. Let him know how good you feel on his cock.” The sound of your cunt swallowing him made him speed up his movements, entirely enthralled by your body accepting him properly. “Show him how you love being raped by his fat cock.”

“P-please stop!”

He groaned. “Keep begging for me to stop. Keep crying for me. You get tighter every. Single. Time.” He thrust between each word, getting rougher and rougher with you.

With his hand in your hair, your head was lifted and you could look around the room. As your body was pushed along the floor by the power of his hips, your tears blurred your vision but you could still see your friends laying lifeless in front of you - spread in all manner of ways. None of them could save you. None of them could help you. If they were even alive. Your thoughts turned to Phantom, outside of this room searching for someone to come and exorcise the demon back to Hell. Your fear became overpowering at the thought of the sweet newcomer walking in and seeing you pinned beneath Swiss, being raped by someone you all used to love and trust. Would anyone else understand that this wasn’t Swiss hurting you? Would Swiss even survive the exorcism?

In a moment of adrenaline from the fear you felt, you shifted your body using all the strength you could muster. You wrapped your legs around his calves, swung your arm to hit his face and proceeded to turn as if you were about to lie on your back. Swiss didn’t anticipate this and so slipped out of you for a brief moment, falling off of you. Wasting no time, your weak legs forced you onto your feet and you ran towards the door once more. Your brain was clearer than before allowing you to unlock the door this time. But as you opened it, once again, Swiss pushed it closed.

“Clearly I have not broken you yet.”

By the collar of your habit, he pulled you back to give him the space to stand in front of you. His hand, now tightly closed in a fist, backhanded your cheek and all you saw was black.

When you came to, your jaw ached so badly. Your vision was blurred and it took a while to come to. Your hands were held above your head as you lay on your back, a large hand holding them together and restraining you. As your head was turned to its side, you saw Mountain and Rain laying next to each other, still entirely unconscious and unmoving. But you were still being attacked.

Now that you were pinned to the floor, and had been out for you didn’t know how long, Swiss had chance to fully savour you. Your habit had been torn town the middle, exposing you completely to the demonic eyes you were now staring into, those very eyes entranced by the way your breasts bounced from the roughness of his thrusts. His cock was now spearing into you much harder than before, the position allowing him to fuck into you deeper. His pubic mound was grinding against your clit as he pounded away, and for the first time that night you were feeling pleasure with the pain.

“I knew you wanted this.” Swiss said from above you upon hearing the small pleasured whimper that escaped you. “I knew you were a whore who loved getting raped. How you would spread your legs for anyone who offered you a bit of attention. I am not wrong, am I?” You moaned again accidentally, this time louder. “Say it. Tell me how much you love it. Tell him that you love it when he rapes you.” When you didn’t obey, he wrapped his hands around your throat. “Say it!”

“I love it!” You shouted reluctantly. “I love being raped!”

Somehow this wasn’t a lie. Since waking up, every hit against your cervix, every drag of his cock against your walls felt delicious. The demonic black of his eyes, the thick hands that held you down had you spreading your legs wider to let him continue abusing your hole. You were getting wetter and wetter with each thrust, more desperate to cum than ever before. You fear dissipated and was replaced with nothing but cock. The weight of it driving you crazy, the way he used you for his own pleasure and revelled in your agony. How he lowered himself to lick your tears away and bury himself inside you over and over again.

“There you go. That was not difficult. You got so much tighter too.”

Your screams turned from pain to desperation. Your mouth hung open in a perfect O. His cock had broken you, stripped you of everything and turned you into his own, personal toy. You sat up as much as you could to see where you both were connected. You saw the base of his cock was rimmed with white where your wetness had turned to cream and stuck in his pubic hairs. Each pull out of you had multiple strings of your own juices forming and snapping. You could feel yourself spilling out of your hole and running down your body, gathering on the wooden floor below you. Fuck! It felt so fucking good.

“Will you cum on his cock? Will you cum on the cock that rapes you?”

“Yes!” You screamed looking back up into his eyes. “I’m gonna c-cum! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna-!”

The door opened right as your orgasm hit, your mind clouding over and drool dripping from your mouth as you came all over Swiss’ cock. The last thing you remember seeing was Papa Copia’s eyes look into yours in horror as you came like a desperate whore while your close friend took you against your will. Then the world went black.

When you came to, your eyes refused to open at first. Your head was pounding from the physical trauma and there was a deep-seated pain in your core that sent stabbing pains through your legs every time you moved them.You groaned and tried to sit up but your body refused to respond. The heart monitor beside you kept bleeping letting you know that you were, in fact, alive, but also that you were currently in the infirmary. But there was another sound coming from the foot of your incredibly uncomfortable bed. When your eyes finally opened it took you a while to fully process what you were seeing.

Swiss.

In a moment of pure fear, you panicked and tried to move further up the bed, as far away from him as you possibly could. You could feel a scream building in your throat, but your jaw hurt you too much to move it. Even still, your fear didn’t care. Swiss’ eyes were back to normal, and glassy with unshed tears. His face, pale and sickly, stained with the tears he had cried. He looked awful - his veins tinted a little black from the pressure of the demon inhabiting his body.

“Please, don’t scream!” He said quickly. “It’s me again. The demon’s gone.” You wanted to open your mouth and ask him what he was doing there, but your jaw wouldn’t move. “Your jaw isn’t broken, but it’s badly bruised from where I…” He started crying again, burying his head on your bed. “I’m so fucking sorry!” He wept hard, your heart breaking for him every time you saw his shoulders violently shake. “I hurt you so b-bad. I’m so sorry! I d-didn’t want to do any of th-those things. I tried - I tried to stop but it was t-too… strong. It w-wasn’t me!”

Deep down you knew it wasn’t. You knew Swiss would never hurt you like that because he never had. He’d never shown that level of ferocity and violence to anyone or anything. He was the kindest soul in the Ministry - a ray of sunlight the morning after a storm. Before all of this, you would have trusted him with anything, your life included. But even though reason told you he wasn’t the monster that attacked you, your brain still registered him as the attacker. When you saw his eyes before he hid them, you could have sworn for a brief moment they were still black. You wanted to comfort him, to tell him that it was okay and you forgave him even though there wasn’t anything to forgive. But there was such a hesitation. An annoying voice in the back of your head saying “what if”? What if that really was him? What if they didn’t exorcise the demon out? They must have otherwise he’d be in chains in the dungeons right now. So, you reached your hand out and touched his head, gently stroking at his hair. Tears were falling down your face too as your brain replayed the trauma.

When you both had calmed down a little, and Swiss was no longer hiding his face from you, you both sat in silence staring at each other. You were studying his face for imperfections and signals that he was unsafe, and he was studying yours for any hints of fear that should tell him he needed to go. “I know it’s selfish of me being here.” He said. “It only happened yesterday. I’m not supposed to be here. Papa’s going to come and talk to you when you’re feeling stronger, he wants you to decide my punishment.”

You shook your head. You didn’t want to punish him.

“Everyone else is fine. Dew has a broken shoulder but he’ll live. Rain has concussion. Mountain’s up and out of the infirmary with no problems at all.” Your mind cast itself back to yesterday, watching Swiss barrel through them and throw them around like children’s toys. How helpless you felt when he was inside you and they were all in the room, knocked out from his attack. How none of them helped you.

“I shouldn’t have come but I needed to see you. I feel so guilty. I…” he hesitated. “I can’t stop thinking about it. About you. I felt everything the de- he did to you. I heard everything, saw everything, felt everything. And you felt so… especially when… fuck! I know I shouldn’t but I keep remembering and my body reacts. I’ve used my hand so many times since but nothing compares to… I need it. I need you. One more time. Please.”

There was a feeling of dread pooling in your stomach again but you could understand where he was coming from. Since you’d been awake and your mind was showing you the images from yesterday, you were also losing your mind. You remembered everything in graphic detail, especially how good it felt when you woke up on the floor. Arousal began to replace the dread and your thighs rubbed together, making you hiss in pain. But the pain and the arousal seemed to control you, and for some reason unbeknownst to you, you nodded your head.

Swiss didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled back the comforter and climbed onto the bed. He lifted up the infirmary nightgown you were wearing and exposed your abused hole to him. You could see his cock tenting through his own nightgown at the sight of you. You were so broken and vulnerable, and it did things to him he knew he’d feel guilty for later on. But he just couldn’t resist any longer. It was like he was addicted to you. To it. “I can’t promise I’ll be gentle.” He told you. He lifted your gown further up to expose your breasts again before pulling himself free and lining himself up. You wanted to tell him to not be gentle, to disrespect you like he had yesterday, but the words couldn’t come out.

Pushing into you, you felt the same searing pain you felt the first time he did. You were so under prepared yesterday and even more so today. But after a few uncomfortable thrusts, the pleasure returned once more, and your hands, now finally responding, flew to his shoulders and grasped on, digging your nails into his skin.

His mouth had hung open and his own grunts and moans were escaping as he lost himself in the pleasure and the memory of your fear. You were deprived of this yesterday - and you were convinced that if you’d heard how good he felt, you’d have given up fighting long before you did.

“You feel even better than yesterday.” He muttered. His thrusts got rougher and you could feel the infirmary bed moving beneath you, groaning at the weight and the intense movement. “I kept thinking about how wet you got. The way you creamed on my fucking cock. I came twice to that thought alone. Fuck!”

Though your jaw was in pain, you were still able to whimper from the feeling of his fat cock railing you in a similar fashion to yesterday. Your own noises kept spurring him on.

“And when you screamed, yelling out how much you loved me raping you. Fucking hell. I want to hear it again. I want to hear you beg me to rape you over and fucking over. I want to keep you speared on my cock and make you cum on it because I just won’t stop raping you.”

You tightened at the thought, which made him let out a particularly loud moan.

“You want that, too?”

You nodded.

“Fuck. You want me to turn you into a little fucking rape toy, hm? A fuck-slut that’s only good for taking my fucking cum against her will. Have you beg me to stop while also sucking my cock back into your little hole.”

You dug your nails in again which prompted his hips to smack forward and whack your cervix.

“I’ll do it. Shit. I’ll find you when you’re out of the infirmary and I’ll force you to the fucking floor. I’ll take what I want from you when I want. You want that?”

You nodded.

“Fucking hell, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum again. I came inside you yesterday too. They had a hard time pulling me off you. I just kept holding onto your hips and railing you into the floor. I’m gonna keep doing it now. Use you as my fucking cum receptacle. Rape a baby into you too. Show everyone who this hole belongs to.”

You tightened and moaned again.

“I went feral when they pulled me off of you and I saw my cum spilling out. Proof that I’d - fuck I’m cu-cumming!”

Once again he pushed himself as far into you as he possibly could and stilled, painting your walls with his seed.

No one else had ever made you feel that good before. The fact that he was recreating the shared trauma also did things to you that you couldn’t quite explain. You knew he was suffering as much as you were, that the guilt was eating away at him in the same way the fear was. Maybe that was why you willingly spread your legs for him this time, because you needed someone who knew to make you feel good.

When he’d finished, he watched himself spilling out of you. “Fuck…” he lamented. “No tissues. You didn’t cum.”

You wanted to tell him not to bother, that a nurse might show up midway through. You knew how bad it would look that the man who’d raped you had come back for seconds not twenty-four hours after the incident. But even if you could speak, he wouldn’t listen.

He bent down and placed his tongue in your hole, licking his cum out of you. He swirled his tongue around your cunt, trying to find the parts of you that would tip you over the edge. Once he’d determined that you were clean enough, he moved up to your clit and sucked. Hard. It was like he knew that his treatment of you yesterday meant that you needed it rough today too, and so he did his best to deliver. He didn’t let up until you came on his face, your own juices spilling out of you. You did your best to muffle the scream that was threatening to come out of you as you tipped over the edge, hyper-aware of the fact that a nurse could come rushing in to make sure you were okay. Swiss knew this too and so finished up as quickly as he possibly could.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?”

You nodded and watched him press a kiss to your temple, completely juxtaposing his treatment of you both yesterday and today before making his exit back to his own ward.

You watched him leave and let your eyes wander around the room. That was when you noticed it and froze in panic. There was a security camera in the top corner of the room… and it had just captured everything.

Kinktober: Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

Hellish Delights:

Masterlist ⛧ Hellish Delights Masterlist

Previous Part ⛧ Next Part

[coolbeesbro]

Leshy's follower design is done!

Out of all the jobs he could have gone with, being the head chief was a surprise for everyone. Because he's blind, his sense of smell is heightened and he uses that to his advantage when cooking. Despite being great at his job, the other cooks find him a bit insufferable to work with. To make light of the situation, they're constantly giving him aprons with funny things written on it knowing he has no way of knowing.

Is he gay? Who knows. Do his siblings know that the aprons are an inside joke in the kitchen? No not at all. Are they supportive of their now gay sibling? Yes. The other followers are generally open and accepting, but those who make shady comments about their brother get pummeled by Heket. Kallamar always knows whats up when they show up to the infirmary, and if they get the bare minimum treatment for their injuries, well that's for him to know. After the first 8 people, they all learned quickly to back off.

Does Tebryn (yellow cat) say anything about Leshy being "open and proud of his sexuality"? No, because he wants to play things cool with him. It does give him hope that he might have a chance though. Leshy does in fact like him, which is a new emotion for him as he'd never felt attraction to people before. Turns out, having someone not afraid to tell him off when he's being an ass is something he finds very appealing. Tebryn is the only person in the cult that can actually keep him in his lane, and also the only person who could get away with it without potential repercussion from Heket.

Sad Headcanon:

Heket is especially overprotective of him since she still blames herself for his death, so despite him being a bit of a little shit she still throws hands on sight if someone is talking bad about him. On the flipside, Leshy feels like a disappointment to his siblings for having been the first to die, and on some level blames himself for his families downfall (which is why he's quick to jump on the Kallamar blame train to make himself feel better).

Him having the green crown was a "mistake" that Shamura let continue out of sheer curiosity, so he's constantly trying to prove himself (which is why him dying first affected him the most).

[straystarr]

i miss you, i'm sorry; lmh

 in which alcohol and a broken heart prompts you to make a phone call to your ex.

Reference(s): “I miss you, I’m sorry” written by Grace Abrahams and a line from Notting Hill directed by Roger Michell

~

“I miss you”

The flashing lights seemed to somehow mute the chaotic noise around you. Head hurting, mind overwhelmed, and still, your fingers unconsciously danced across the screen of your phone, typing a number you had deleted months ago.

Some things don’t stay the way they're supposed to. Out of sight, out of mind right? Funny how all logic and rational thinking is suddenly muddled by the denial of a broken heart. 

“y/n.”

If it weren’t for the alcohol in your system, you’d cry at the sound of his voice. Instead, the concern in his tone forced a bittersweet smile to form on your face.

He shouldn’t be worried, he shouldn’t have even answered. But he did. And you hated that you knew he would. Because even in your drunken state, it was so natural for you to go back to him. 

“You promised.” 

You felt pathetic. Clinging onto his promises of forever, even when you fought his declarations towards the end of your relationship. The need to be right overpowering the need to be loved.

It was careless, taking everything you loved and disputing it with cruel words driven by a fixed mindset. And he did the same. Hurt people hurt people, because no one wants to be hurting alone. 

You did your best to move on. You really did. It was easy at first, fueled by anger and pinpointing all the blame of your failing relationship on him was something you did with your head held high. 

And then all of a sudden, your pride became too hard to swallow and all the hate you spewed ricocheted in the forms of longing and regret. 

You often found yourself reminiscing about fights in his apartment and the disappointment that came with broken dishes, just to get a glimpse of him.

Because he was always readily available in your mind, whether it be in the form of heartbreak or not. And the extent to which you would willingly fall back into these moments only resulted in any progress of moving on to slip through your fingers.

“y/n, where are you?”

How do you move on from someone who is so deeply engraved into your mind, someone who has touched every part of you with sweet kisses and gentle hands, someone who starts your thoughts and always ends them.

For these reasons, your doubts and hesitations were not baseless. Because how do you move on from someone you once promised forever to? It almost seems wrong to do so. 

“I don’t know what to do Minho. Everywhere I go leads me back to you. Everything I know brings me back to us.” 

There was so much to say, so much you wanted to tell him. It was desperate and embarrassing, but others might say you were simply in love; that you were just a girl, talking to a boy, asking him to love her. 

“Y/n, please….go home.”

“I can’t.”

“Y/n–”

“Every corner of that fucking house is haunted Minho.” 

It was suffocating. Home was no longer home but a place filled with traces of his presence. Bittersweet reminders of the life that once flourished remained in every room.

His coffee cup in the cupboard, his hoodie tucked away in your drawer, the silly love notes he left embedded into your books, his morning kisses, his laughter, his smile, him. 

He was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Even in his absence, he was consuming you. So no, you wouldn’t go home, you couldn’t. Because the definition between home and Minho seemed to blur overtime. 

“I don’t know what to do anymore."

The drunken daze was now fading away, your clouded mind becoming overwhelmed with the sober emotions that flowed through your body, because they were one in the same when you were drunk, just easier to handle in a state of intoxication. 

“I thought you hated me.”

Such a statement was not meant to be laced with the gentleness he evoked, so much so, a certain heaviness clung to your chest. For the reminder of the three words you spewed at him the last time you spoke will forever bring feelings of angst and regret. 

“Minho…”

Some things are better left unsaid. Until the time comes when those things are all you can think about, clouding your judgement and cultivating a narrative of missed opportunities guided by the words “what if”.

You had many. And they creeped up on you, leaving you lost in your thoughts of love that you’ll never be able to live, at least, not with him.

But not was not the time to wallow in your self pity and despair. Not after all the time you had dedicated to pondering over the “what ifs” and certainly not when the person these “what ifs” revolved around was here, listening to you. 

“I was angry and upset and desperate to hurt you. I don’t hate you—I never could. I’m sorry.”

The slow sigh that ran after your words displayed your relief more than you intended. Thinking back to the last time you spoke to him was routine for you.

But this time, instead of being tormented by the hurt laced in the memory of that night, you were now comforted by the fact that your truth was now something he knew.

And you weren’t going to deprive yourself of his, no matter how much it may break you. You were in too deep to consider that now. 

“Do I still make you sick to your stomach?” 

It was his turn to let out an audible sigh. And it seems as though you weren’t the only one reminiscing back to that night; for his response appeared to be nurtured with time and consideration.

“No y/n, you never did. You never will. I didn't mean that. I wish I had ever said those words to you, but I did. I’m sorry.”

It’s one thing to say something. It’s another to mean it. And it felt nice to hear he didn’t. You knew he could never have meant it, but the assurance you experienced upon his confession pulled apart the remaining angst embedded in your memories. You could only hope he felt the same.

It was cold outside. Somehow, your feet carried you out of the stuffy place, the moon illuminating the still street, a complete contradiction to your surroundings a few seconds ago. 

The silence seemed to emphasize your acknowledgement of everything that had happened and was happening. The phone pressed to your ear. The quick beating in your chest. The familiarity of the slow breaths he took as you listened. Your boldness. His patience. 

“I’m sorry I called. I know we said we weren’t talking—”

“I miss you too.”

You almost didn’t catch it. His voice low and quiet, almost as if the statement was a passing thought that had slipped past his tongue. But you caught it, as did your denial, that after all this time, he too missed what once was.

A part of you wished your ears had been deaf to his words. Because the way your hand fell to your chest, the way it felt as though your heart had paused, the way tears immediately lined your waterline, was the same way you recognized exactly how much you missed him.

One step forward and three steps back is the damage his words did. But you started it first, and it was only fair to finish what you started. 

An absent smile lined your lips with tears falling down your face. Your tears were warm against your cold skin and you so badly wanted the warmth to stay.  

“Everything we were scared of happening, happened Minho.”

“Nothing happened in the way we wanted Y/n.”

Your absent smile turned bittersweet, fingers gently grazing your cheek in an attempt to catch the warmth from your eyes. You were right. And he was too. They say that nothing that is meant for you will ever get away, so why did he?

“Is this better for us y/n?”

It’s hard to make peace with something you don't entirely agree with. He hurt you more than anyone else has. But he loved you better than anyone ever did. 

“I don't know. I’m still confused.” 

Your eyes shut, squeezing what was left of your tears out. 

“I do know that I was really happy with you, we were happy together. And we were really good to each other.”

You went into this conversation with hope and uncertainty. It was only normal for that hope and uncertainty to cultivate into doubts and hesitation. He didn’t deserve that. And you didn’t want to make things worse than they already were. Not now. Not ever. 

“But….”

“But we’ve been here before. And I want to love you because I love you, not because I need you— I missed you Minho…..I miss you. I’m sorry.” 

And in an instant, no sound came from his phone. Your voice, gone, as if it were never there.

Gone before he could familiarize himself with the highs and lows of your tone. Gone before he could tell you to not cry, for he recognized the tell tale signs that you were. Gone before he could say everything he wanted to say and more. 

And perhaps that's why he continued to hold the phone to his ear, head falling to the back of his couch as he allowed the words he meant to say to you, the second your name appeared on his phone, break free from his lips.

Barely a mumble, but with his whole heart and all his truth. 

“I still love you, I promise.”

Check out the easter egg in this story!

𝙎𝙏RAy𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙍r★

[linberlyy]

HBO recently released a new video with mini-interviews with actors on green/black team. And do you know what conclusion we made? Our greens actors are so afraid to express their opinions and views on the actions of the characters that they begin to laugh them off, albeit in short phrases, and explain what we already know.

Just take a look:

Tom: “Why should Team Green be on the throne and not Team Black? My name is on the lease for the castle." (We know, Tom, how much you get hated, and we understand that this is all you can say in principle at such events).

Fabien: “I think it's more a loyalty thing for Cole. I think it's his loyalty to Alicent. He wants what she wants. I myself… no comments.” (I was already shy at the end, you are our sunshine).

Ewan: “Aemond, he was bullied and wronged as a kid. They carved his eye out. He bounced back. He put a sapphire gemstone in his eye. And yeah, they're gonna get what's coming to them.” (Here Ewan revealed what we've already...sort of...seen? Why do we need a summary of the events of the first season? Even the last encrypted phrase sounded without the connotation we needed, so that, obviously, God forbid, we put him against mailwife Daemon, against whom he is nothing).

Olivia: "We have bigger dragons." (Poor Olivia, she was hated, it seems, more than anyone else. She looks thinner and tighter. I really hope that we are wrong. They didn’t even say the words in using their party, just so as not to cause a storm of negativity, how dare this ungrateful person go against Rhaenyra!)

While the actors of the opposite side can afford to make too eloquent and provocative statements, it is clear that most of the normies will support them and begin to squeal with delight:

Steve: “Team Black should be on the throne instead of Team Green. Team Green are usurpers. Team Black are the rightful heirs. They were named by the King. They're just better looking, generally.” (Even green actors cannot afford to call their characters “legitimate” and make any comments in favor of the opposite side, but here there is just basic cringe. Everything we like).

Eve: “They're the best. And the annoying people are pretty obviously the Greens. They're all just a bunch of knobs, and they need their heads being knocked together." (No comments, right? Everything is clear here).

Harry: “Team Black are decent people. We are more of a functioning family. We do things the right way." (The funny thing is that the whole Dance is the struggle of ONE family. The fact that EVEN the actors divide both groups into TWO different families already says something, and we do not take this into account, as it is about the same persons in the scripts).

Phoebe: “I think we love each other way more. I think we have a family base that is incredible. (Yes, let's also compare who loves whom more).

Bethany: “Team Black are the most fun. We get on the most. They all hate each other. „You have no idea the sacrifices that were made to put you on the throne“. (In the video, after the actress’s words, they accidentally removed Alicent and Aegon from the trailer, obviously, there was a visible emphasis on the fact that there is no love in the green family, and in general they watched without exception, but with their black maniacs, everything is cool with them).

Matt: “My uncle is a challenge I welcome. If he dares face me." No chance. I'm coming for his head. I'm gonna put it on a spike. Me and Rhaenyra, there's a bloodline to us, isn't there? We're the thoroughbreds." (Compare Ewan's lines with his. There is a big difference. Matt has the ability to say things like this to please the surviving fans, while Ewan does not, because all he gets in response is judgment, hate speech and swearing. And the phrase “We're the thoroughbreds” each time comes closer and closer to the name of H*tler with his “pure Aryan blood”, don’t blame me).

Emma: "We have madness on our side. And we have a powerful naval presence. Thanks to the Velaryon fleet." (Ok, do we need to remind you in what right and wrong ways the characters got it? Do the Velaryons themselves even know what the key is? However, Emma’s words carry disgust, like the words of her fellow actors, so she’s just a bun. Thanks for that too).

Does anyone have any other suggestions as to which side we present to get our ass kissed? The answer is obvious.

[toffeebrew]

Any errink headcanons? :D

Tumblr hates me so I had to rewrite this, anyway... [Note: all my hcs ofc nothing is canon but some may be based of canon information! Sometimes I may refer to non-canon past rps :P]

Error and ink do dumb rps with his puppets together, they've made a super dramatic soap opera plot.

I think Ink realizes Error would never change and he's content with that (sigh as much as I would love to say he would).

Ink finds error's six tongues fascinating, rather than gross. In a similar way, error is fascinated by ink's star eyes (I wonder what that hc came from).

If they ever kissed it would be the most disgusting revoltingly thing ever because error doesn't know how to kiss at all and he also has 6 tongues.

If you asked them how they became friends they would just look at you and shrug. Not even they know how to happened. All they can say is they "get eachother." Error deep down has always wanted a friend and Ink gives him that. Ink is willing to deal with error's bs and error is willing to deal with ink's. Ink can feel a little lonely in his own role and among a world that is fake and Error being an outcode like hin understands him a way others wouldn't. Not even mentioning their story parallels but I gotta stop my self before I start rambling. They're some of the only people who know some of other's deep insecurities.

Ink found Error's crashes funny before he knew how absolutely painful they were. Although not sure if he would ever trigger them on purpose even before he knew ngl.

more yapping under the cut

I would define them as whatever happens when you cross a friend an enemy and a partner.

Ink loves all of his shipkids and error... feels very conflicted about all of them.

They also think the other is a freaky than them when in reality they're both freaks.

Error still thinks about when Ink proposed to him at loveball, ink doesn't think about it at all. Ink also proposed to him with a ring pop that he found in the candy bowl in my head LOL.

Ink doesn't mention his dads to him .. maybe out of fear

Other people still make fun of Ink for proposing to error at loveball and ink always goes "IT WAS ONE TIME!"

Error and Ink are both quite short, Error is only a few inches taller than Ink.

Due to loveball, Error is always scared (in a playful way) when Ink starts drinking.

Error does feel guilty for the time he left ink in the antivoid. Not all of the time, but at times when hes sitting with Ink in the anti-void he can't help but reflect on it. If he would ever admit it? Probably not.

Error and ink's dancing at loveball was a beautiful disaster. Ink is actually an okay dancer but because Error was really nervous it threw him off and it was so off beat. It was really cute though, regardless.

Ink finds errorink ship art very amusing and he shows it to error just to freak him out sometimes.

Error always kills ink first in among us. Error also always blames ink as the imposter even if he isn't.

They have a "close but not too close" rule just close enough to feel the warmth of the other person but not enough to touch. (do skeletons give off warmth?). They do hold pinkies though fr fr. Also Error does lay his head in Ink's lap sometimes, typically when they're watching something. Ink may also give Error forehead or hand kisses.

I like to think Error runs quite hot, because he crashes all the time, so hes warm like a computer LOL. Ink who in my hc has a lessen sense of touch and runs sorta cold due to be soulless lovess sitting around him because of it.

Crack headcanon, when error's eyes glitch up or hes about to crash if you really listen you can hear the sound of computer fans going ham.

Ink will often just... walk up to error and put him a different outfit. Something about his being "too basic" and "his outfit has an ugly color palette".

If you know my pinkie sense ink hc Error doesn't know HOW it works but he fully believes him every single time. Even when ink is trolling, LOL!

Error and Ink call eachother "Ruru" and "Kiki" but only to annoy the other. Specifically if ink is pleading for something he'll do it to annoy him "please ruru :(" They also call eachother glitch and squid in a movking as well LOL.

They have friendship rings? platonic rings? idk if those are a thing made from blue string.

In my own error design, he has a big tooth. Because of it ink calls him a "big kitty" to make fun of him.