#but there's basically no way he's referring to any of those other three

[aris-has-a-paracosm]

ArisArisArisAris Aris Aris please I'm begging you canwe see wips for Deepfrost drawing

please please please can we be permitted a tiny glance inside the brain of tumblr artist aris-has-a-paracosm?

Yes can do! <3 Here’s a little bit about my art process for the Deepfrost art :)

So here’s a screenshot from the sketch. (It wasn’t completely done at the time, but it’s the only screenshot I still have of that part.)

I sketch in any color other than black so I can more easily see my lineart later, and red is often what I default to. I also had two-point perspective grid lines set up, but I didn’t really adhere to them. As you can see, DF’s face did undergo a little bit of editing before the lineart happened. I opted to go for a toothy grin rather than the open-mouthed smile he originally had here.

Speaking of lineart:

Regardless of what brush I use, I always make sure that my lineart connects neatly to itself for each part of every drawing (separate lineart layers for each component.) There’s no gaps anywhere, so it makes it to where I can easily use an inverse selection to put a base color layer directly beneath. My base layers are always in gray going from lighter in the background to darker in the foreground.

Next up was rendering the background:

This is- … this is definitely a “rest of the heckin’ owl” kinda thing XD. The buildings were in three layers with the windows drawn in vertical lines and then erased in horizontal lines.

Here’s a gif to show that? Please excuse my atrocious Timelapse quality :’)

Once the windows were all on there, I used alpha lock on the layer and then just randomly recolored windows based on reference photos of cities at night. Once the windows were done, I used some airbrushing for ambiance.

Next up was the base colors for the foreground:

Here, I was mainly focused on the outfit and ice detail. All of this was important to get the way I wanted pre-render, and absolutely nothing about lighting was considered here.

Afterwards was DF’s rendering:

I had two separate shadow layers and one light layer, keeping my light source and his three-dimensionality in mind the whole time. Here was where I also did lineart recoloring and cleanup.

And then all I had left was to render the ice, the rooftop, and add the snow! I don’t fully know how to explain this part either, but I primarily used a soft airbrush and a medium nozzle spray paint brush as well as an eraser in both of those settings as well.

So yeah! That’s the basics of my art process! I like to joke that when I draw, my brain lives in my hands so I don’t think too much about the process while drawing. I had a lot of fun with this and hope you liked seeing the process :D

[johanna-swann]

The annoying thing about the break up is that it would have made so much more sense if they'd had Tommy break it off because of any of the multiple things Buck says in that conversation that are kind of weird. The vibe that Buck also kind of wants to be Tommy, which isn't helped by him replacing Tommy twice over. The fact that it's been six months of Tommy apparently being open about the kind of work he had to do on himself to get to this point but Buck still hasn't really taken Tommy off the pedestal. Asking someone who probably has a house to move in to a loft. Springing a mention of a possible future marriage on him when it doesn't seem like it's come up before. The writing in this episode was so bad but they still managed to unintentionally give Tommy actual reasons to decide he was done.

I'm not sure what Buck "replacing Tommy" is referring to here, but a lot of the other stuff I agree with. Even upon first glance that break-up made so little sense to me that I immediately jumped to the conclusion that this was merely one of the "hurdles" we were promised and they'd get back together in season 8b.

It was always a possibility that Tommy wouldn't be Buck's "forever love", but the way they broke up was... strange, to say the least.

First of all the Abby thing makes zero sense. It doesn't fit with the way Abby talked about her ex. Even if she didn't want to talk to Buck about being engaged before, she would've at least mentioned to Carla that the terrible break-up she had to relive over and over again came from her fiancé, not just a boyfriend. It doesn't make sense that Tommy never mentioned her to the 118 either. She was basically his beard, right? Isn't the point of those relationships that you can pretend to be straight in front of others? And then Tommy actively hid his relationship with her instead?

This only served as a conversation starter though, it wasn't the reason they broke up. In his conversation with Josh Buck didn't feel comfortable using the l-word, but he did admit seeing and wanting a future with Tommy. Which he later also said to Tommy himself.

Then the very moment Buck said the words "move in" I immediately went "not a-fucking-gain!!" Because this rushed, overcorrecting clinging - throwing ideas of marriage and so on around without even having exchanged "I love you"s yet - is such a Buck 2.0 thing to do. He didn't even take into consideration that Tommy lives in an entire ass house. You promised us Buck would get off the Hamster wheel Tim! He has been more grounded than I've ever seen him in a relationship, but then suddenly, nope. Character growth who?

And lastly Tommy's answer. Maybe he just got cold feet, but. Why did he even give Buck a second chance in the first place when he already thought this wasn't going to go anywhere. If he thought what Buck needed were more casual queer experiences, then why did he stay with Buck for six months? And if he liked Buck enough to be afraid of getting his heart broken, wouldn't he have left that relationship earlier?

I mean. They ended up breaking things off over liking each other too much, essentially. Find the sense in that.

And maybe while Tommy was too pessimistic and scared, Buck was still viewing the relationship too much through rose-tinted glasses. But that's when you say: "Hey, we kind of want the same thing here, but I think we still have a lot to talk about and to figure out about each other. Maybe let's just date a little longer and come back to this conversation in two or three months."

(Though I think Tommy struggling and working on himself is one of the very things Buck so admires about him. It's not that Buck is (love-) blind to this information, it's part of what makes Tommy's confidence so attractive to Buck.)

[givehimthemedicine]

"best only"? "one of the good ones?"

we gonna talk about how Owens basically just looked at the camera and said hey btw there are other psionic players afoot. that there are other ONEs.

@aemiron-main have you been here already

[kaciidubs]

Are You Still Watching?

✧ Summary: It was meant to be a sweet gesture to treat you to a surprise at-home date - what a shame that the pajamas that were supposed to be covering your bodies were now on the floor. ✧  ✧ Word Count: 1.8k ✧ Warnings: Smut, fluff, light humor, slight Dom/Sub dynamics, daddy kink, spitroasting, slight choking ✧  ✧ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ✧  ✧ Additional Tags: Reader is referred to as Good Girl, Baby, Pup, Slut, Seungmin is referred to as Minnie, Chris is referred to as Daddy, Baby ✧ Stray Kids Masterlist ✧ General Masterlist

You’d appreciated the effort they put in on the surprise date night; the living room decorated with small tea light candles as the coffee table held an array of your combined favorite snacks. They’d even treated you to your favorite restaurant for take out - and by they, you really meant Chris, seeing as he would rather be struck by lightning than have you or Seungmin pay for anything (though, recently, he has been getting better at letting you both exercise your independence).

However, your favorite detail of the whole night was the way they basically transformed the couch into a sea of blankets and pillows - Seungmin making sure to include your favorite fluffy blanket to be shared between the three of you - which only made it more shameful to note that it was currently crumpled on the floor with pajamas that should’ve been covering your bodies.

“C’mon, you can take more than that, can’t you?”

You made a sound of indigence, eyebrows pinching as the pressure on the back of your head increased just a bit.

“Minnie, don’t - ah, fuck - don’t force her, give her a second.”

As usual, Chris’s caring tone added a lighter caress to Seungmin’s bite, though those sweet words could only do so much as his hips twitched up, unintentionally pushing more of his length past your lips.

Seungmin scoffed, a humored, lighthearted sound as his eyes narrowed, “You do realize, she’s the one who told me I could do this, right? She likes it, you know she does - don’t act like you don’t like it either, hyung.”

Punctuating his point, he pressed further against the back of your head and you dropped your jaw to allow Chris’s cock to slide along your tongue and prod at the back of your throat, before letting his grip pull you back up for a little reprieve.

“Bub wants to be used like a little slut - are you going to deny her that?”

You keened at his words, flicking your tongue around the head of Chris’s cock for further coaxing - you were okay with it, more than okay, and seeing your enthusiasm served to whittle him down more.

“G-Gonna be a good girl f’me and take it?”

Your head shifted slightly, a nod, as much as you could give with Seungmin’s hold on you remaining firm and secure.

That was all he needed to see as he spread his legs just a bit more, planting his feet before thrusting his hips up; his dick easily finding its way down your throat from the way Seungmin kept your head at the perfect level.

The living room soon filled with the sounds of your choked moans, wet slurps, and breathless groans as Chris fucked your mouth with ease; one arm laid along the back of the couch while the other braced against the cushions to aid in the leverage he needed.

“God, fuck, look at you,” he hissed, cocking his head in order to catch the way your cheek puffed up and hollowed out with each stroke, the shine of saliva bubbling at the corner of your lips sending his mind into a frenzy. “Pretty little thing letting daddy use your mouth like this - wouldn’t have it any other way, hm?”

Replying in kind, you dipped your head lower, working past the resulting gag on the following thrust with nothing but pure determination and need.

“Fuck.” Both men spoke in unison, a sound filled with equal parts desperation and fascination.

The sloppy sounds of Chris’s cock leaving and entering your mouth bounced off the walls of the living room more frequently, his pace growing faster as he began to chase the hints of his impending orgasm.

“‘M gonna come soon,” he gasped out, lidded eyes trained on the way your head rocked and bobbed, but stayed relatively in the same position Seungmin held you in, “be good and swallow it all, okay, baby? J-Just a little longer- shit.”

You tightened your lips around his girth, determined to hold everything he gave you, and like clockwork his dick twitched against your tongue followed by the bitterness of his seed filling your mouth.

He came with staggered breaths, his stomach heaving with each wave that coursed through him until his body fell lax against the couch.

The grip on the back of your head vanished, though another presence made itself known underneath your chin, slowly pulling you away from the softening cock between your lips - Chris hissing from the determined suction you kept to take the remnants of his orgasm with you.

Turning your head towards him, your eyes met his lust fogged ones, pupils blown and a considerable glow emanating from his body.

“Show daddy.”

He watched as the muscles in your throat subtly shifted before you parted your lips, tongue lolling out to show the inside of your mouth void of his cum.

“Good girl,” he murmured, pressing his thumb against your tongue.

Your lips eagerly wrapped around the digit, holding his strong gaze as you sucked on it daringly - priding yourself on the way his tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek, eyes narrowing at your boldness.

However, your little show was cut short as you felt a pair of hands dragging you back by your hips, blindly following the lead as your legs were guided up and over the arm of the couch, planting your feet firmly on the hardwood while your hips rested against the cushioned arm.

“Alright, alright, I’m here too.” Seungmin mumbled, though his cadence expressed a playful annoyance than anything else as he ran his hands along the curve of your ass, “Channie hyung shouldn’t have all the fun - this was my idea.”

There wasn’t enough time to counteract with a statement of your own as you felt the blunt tip of his cock nudge against your pussy, sliding through your arousal with a gentle rock of his hips.

“Seungmin, please.”

He gave a light huff, but you could practically see the amused smirk undoubtedly on his lips, “So needy, pup.”

However, you could argue that he was needier as he gripped your hip tighter, his other hand supporting the base of his dick as he began to slowly push past your walls - a hiss of satisfaction falling from his lips in the process.

Your head fell forward, a low moan floating through your parted lips; though, it didn’t last long as a finger hooked underneath your chin and gently lifted your head back up.

“Feels good, doesn’t he, baby?”

Lust fogged eyes locked with darkened ones, a familiar hunger lingering in his irises that had your pussy clenching as a result.

You felt yourself getting lost in his hypnotizing stare, sinking deeper and deeper into the pool of desire until a thrust jolted you forward - breaking you from your reverie with a choked out moan.

Then came another, then another, then another, until you were steadily rocking against the arm of the couch as Seungmin fucked you as he pleased; hard and thorough with a hand gripping your hip while the other remained steady at the back of your neck.

“Jesus, she’s so wet,” he groaned, lidded eyes locked on the curve of your ass, “bet she’s been turned on since we started this whole ‘date’.”

“Yeah? You think so?” A low chuckle left Chris as he took in your lust fogged expression, “She’s probably been waiting for one of us to put our hands on her ever since we got to the couch, spoiled little thing.”

A slap rang through the air, your yelp of pain melting into a needy whine while Seungmin’s hand massaged the cheek of your ass.

“Needy little slut,” squeezing the flesh, he hummed, “it’s cute, though - probably means we’re doing something right.”

Your breath caught at their words, an addictive mix of embarrassment and arousal flowing through your veins like molten lava - stomach twisting and walls clenching that only served to intensify Seungmin’s precise thrusts.

“Oh, she liked that.” His hand slid around your hip and between your legs, a deft finger easily finding purchase on your neglected clit, “Did you like it enough to come for me, pup? I can feel you clenching, I know you’re close - come for me.”

A larger hand made its presence known around your neck with a firm grasp, not enough to cut off your airflow, yet still present enough to have your eyelids fluttering and lips parting in a small ‘o’.

“Go ahead,” Chris cooed in a velvety tone, gently squeezing his fingers against the column of your neck, “come for Minnie, baby - come so he can fill you up just how you like, yeah?”

The mere thought of his orgasm had yours slamming into you faster than you could comprehend - your legs nearly buckling as you gripped the couch cushion, while a staccato of moans floated past your lips.

“Seung- Baby- A-Ah- Fuck!”

Seungmin mirrored your curse with one of his own, forced through gritted teeth as his finger continued to slide against your clit, drawing out your orgasm as long as he could until his body tensed - grunting out a small “‘M c-coming-” before pressing his hips flush to yours.

Chris’s hand slowly left your neck, granting you the ability to let it fall forward and relieve some tension off your shoulders; the sound of heavy footsteps walking out of the living room keying you into what he set off to do next.

A pair of lips pressed to your shoulder blade, followed by another kiss to the junction near the base of your neck, leading you to let out a soft giggle.

“I’m okay, Minnie.”

“Even after what I said…?”

His voice was right next to your ear, soft and a tad meek - you couldn’t help but nudge the side of his head with your own, “Baby, you calling me a slut barely breaks the surface of what I can get Channie to call me if I push hard enough - I’m perfectly fine with being your ‘needy slut’ if that’s what you need in the moment.”

He made a sound that could only be described as bashful embarrassment, choosing to respond by leaning forward to peck your cheek before pulling away at the sound of footsteps once more.

After a quick - gentle and careful - wipe down with a washcloth provided by Chris, a few bathroom trips, and a refresh on snacks, the three of you settled back onto the couch like before - sans pajamas.

“So,” Chris hummed, rotating the remote in his hand, “are we still watching this, or…?”

You held back your laugh as best you could with Seungmin laid on top of you, eyes already closed and determined to stay that way. “Keep it on as background noise?”

Nodding, he selected ‘keep watching’ before tossing the remote to the coffee table and tugging you closer against his side.

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[iwritefandomimagines]

NOT MY FIRST RODEO — COOPER HOWARD/THE GHOUL

masterlist

part two | part three [coming soon]

pairing: cooper howard/the ghoul x reader, mentions of john hancock x reader hehe

description: the tension between you and cooper had been palpable for ages, and he was beginning to struggle to deny his attachment to you — despite his reluctance. he’s certain you’d never really be interested in him like that, until he finds out he’s not the first ghoul to enjoy your company.

warnings: swearing, jealous!coop, sexual references/implied smut, angst, making out, mentions of drug taking

author’s note: writers block was POOF! gone the minute i rewatched fallout last week & restarted fallout 4. hancock will always be my bf so i couldn’t help myself from mentioning him. let me know if u want a part two with actual smut! i only left it out because i don’t really usually write smut on this blog haha.

—

Cooper Howard and John Hancock were by no means what you’d call friends.

However, as much as it pained him to admit it, the former knew that the latter was — by the standards of many — a good man who’d do the right thing to help others when needed.

That was why, however begrudgingly, he’d suggested that you spend the last few hours of today’s daylight making the short trip to Goodneighbor to stay ‘for a while’.

It was clear that an intense few days, hunting a difficult son of a bitch of a bounty, had very much tested your limits.

He told himself that, given the amount of caps that said son of a bitch had earned you, you could afford a couple of days laying low in Goodneighbor before picking up another job.

Well there was that and the fact that much to his dismay, in the short time you’d been accompanying him on the road he’d found himself irritatingly attached to you.

When he’d first stumbled upon you while collecting a bounty you’d failed to deliver on yourself, you’d enthusiastically offered your companionship and he’d fervently denied it.

You knew he doubted you’d be any use based on your circumstances when you met, but despite your reassurances that it was just because he was the notorious fucking ghoul that everyone went on about and he had simply beaten you to it, he dismissed you with a “not a chance, sweetheart,” and went on his way.

But when he kept bumping into you in the following days, he’d given in and afforded you the luxury of helping him out on this one job — allowing himself the comfort of the excuse that if he really needed, he could trade you for caps and say goodbye to the pretty girl so oddly desperate to be at his side.

You’d driven him crazy at first — full of questions and curiosity, never refraining from voicing what was on your mind.

The way you watched him so carefully, all doe-eyed and attentive, had initially just pissed him off. But in the weeks that followed this had mellowed, and he’d found himself almost grateful to have someone so comfortable around him.

He’d never admit that though.

You’d just been much more skilled in combat than he had expected. That’s why he told himself he kept you around.

He totally just figured that it couldn’t hurt to have someone close by who can handle themselves and is willing to take just a tiny stake of a bounty (on your part, you figured there was no need to take more — he basically spent his share with you anyway).

You, on the other hand, didn’t want to admit that you had been lonely and desperate and missing the life you’d previously been so comfortable in when Cooper walked — well, stormed, into your life.

He might not ever have intended to (in fact — if he’d known, he’d probably never have let you get so close) but upon gradually letting you into his life he’d nestled his way into the empty little nook left behind in your heart.

“Why did you hesitate when I said Goodneighbor?”

Oh yeah, there was that.

When you’d left Goodneighbor all those months ago, you’d left with a broken heart and a head full of hazy memories of the happiness that the place had once brought you.

“I didn’t hesitate.”

“You sure as shit did, and even you know you’re a damn bad liar,” the Ghoul scoffed, pausing his pacing and turning to look you in the eye, “What does a pretty little thing like you know about Goodneighbor?”

You folded your arms over your chest, shaking your head at him as his steely eyes bore into yours, “Nothing. Just odd you’re suddenly so eager to go hide away somewhere when you’ve called me all sorts’a names any time I’ve asked for even a short rest break.”

“You’re full’a shit,” his hand flew instinctively to the shotgun at his hip before he released a deep sigh and relaxed it, “So I’m gonna ask you one more time. What do you know about Goodneighbor?”

You pondered for a moment whether or not to keep lying to him — he didn’t know much of your full past beyond the fact that you’d been a vault dweller a long time ago and been fighting for a living since.

You’d settled briefly in a number of places, though, and he’d heard too many stories about times you’d left settlements for various reasons to believe that you’d be too scared to return anywhere with him at your side.

Especially not somewhere like Goodneighbor.

“I—was living there for a while,” you shrugged, avoiding his gaze again now, “Didn’t like it.”

The Ghoul laughed humourlessly at that, “C’mon sweetheart, you’re going to have to do better than that.”

“I didn’t feel—look there’s just someone I don’t really want to see round there, okay?” your eyes didn’t leave the floor as he took a step closer to you, heavy breaths almost taunting further information from you.

“And who might that be?”

You looked up at him for just a second before eyeing the dust below your feet again, “I was, well, I lived there quite a while. I was—seeing, well, romantically— uh, there was—,”

“Spit it out, sunshine.”

Sunshine.

You’d not been called that since the day you left Goodneighbor the last time, and you cursed yourself for physically recoiling at the sound of it.

“Well I’ll be fuckin’ damned. You got a thing for ghouls, huh?” the wicked grin on his face set your stomach alight with a combination of emotions, “Didn’t peg a pretty little thing like you as the type. That why you spent so long beggin’ me to take you with me? Little vaultie princess desperate for another ghoul to defile her?”

You were crimson red now.

You didn’t know how to react, startled by the fact that he knew who you meant based upon your reaction to the term.

Hancock had always been charismatic and flirtatious though — it was no wonder Cooper had heard him use the phrase before.

You were almost angry, immensely embarrassed and yet, at the same time, a little aroused by even his insinuation that he knew that you wanted him in that way.

You’d found him attractive almost immediately and yeah, maybe he was right and you did seem to have a thing for ghouls.

But you sure as hell weren’t going to let him stand there and make you feel embarrassed right now.

“That’s not it, it’s not some kind of—like—,”

“Hancock got bored of ya and you latched onto the next irradiated motherfucker you came across?” he spat, “Bet you regret it now you know that I sure as shit ain’t nothin’ like your precious old mayor.”

Somewhere in the harshness of his tone you were sure you could detect a hint of jealousy at the root of his mocking.

You sighed defeatedly, “I wasn’t looking for some kind of fucking replacement when I met you, if that’s what you’re insinuating. I just— you just— well— Whatever, it’s hardly like you’ve made any suggestion you’d want me if I made a move on you anyway.”

His eyes seemed impossibly dark now, narrowed on you as his finger reached up to tilt your chin upwards towards him, “Is that right, sweetheart?”

Your legs were like jelly beneath you, a jolt of lightning in your veins at his touch.

“Sure, you flirt with me, but you’re so damn up ‘n’ down sometimes that I don’t know if it means anything,” you shrugged, skin tingling as his fingers lingered beneath your chin, “If I was lookin’ to replace John, it would’ve taken more than you being a ghoul for that.”

If he still had eyebrows, they’d have been raised now, his eyes rolling, “Right, nobody comes close to Mr. Righteous Mayor.”

His breath fanned over your face, his eyes returning to stare into yours as if looking for a reaction he knew you wouldn’t want to give him.

But you were all riled up now — so he was going to get one.

“What, is this a pity party? You want me to tell you he’s not all that? That I’m better off now I’ve found you? Oh Coop… I want you, I need you, you’re better than him. Only ghoul for me,” you mocked, pressing your hand to your forehead in feigned fawning before snapping back to seriousness, as he watched you frustratedly.

“Like I said, you weren’t a replacement. I wanted company and somewhere along the way I’ve been fuckin’ stupid enough to like your company more than I should,” you huffed, “You don’t have to pretend you want more than this flirty-but-I-hate-you-a-little arrangement ‘cos you’re jealous knowing I’ve had much, much more than that with someone else— and another ghoul at that.”

A growl left his throat at your words, his hand meeting your waist and pushing you forward so that your back was pressed against the wall.

“You’re playin’ a dangerous game here, sweetheart,” he warned, “And it’s one you won’t win.”

Your head fell back in frustration and met the wall with a small thud as his other hand pressed firmly against the wall beside it.

“You think I feel inadequate or something?” he snarled, and for a moment you weren’t sure if the question was rhetorical.

“How the fuck should I know? It’s hardly like you let me know how you’re feeling ever,” you sighed, your mind growing increasingly cloudy at your close proximity and his hand still on your waist, “That’s all I meant about John. It’s nice to know someone wants you… Hell, it’s even nice to be told when they don’t no more just as long as you’re being told.”

He was baring his teeth in a snarl still, but his lips began curling back up into a smirk, “You think I don’t want ya? Think I haven’t thought about it when you’re at my side like a fuckin’ dog on a leash looking at me all doe eyed an’ fuckable?”

Your cheeks couldn’t have been more flushed, and you knew he could feel the way your thighs clenched together at his words.

“Then why haven’t you done anything about it?” your response was a breathy whisper, the hairs on your neck pricking up and your heart thumping hard against your ribcage.

“Oh that’s a whole can of worms you don’t want opened, sweetheart,” he licked his lips, “Sweet little thing like you shouldn’t be with someone like me. But looks like I ain’t gotta worry about that, huh? Hancock’s already spoiled ya.”

You broke his intense gaze for a moment, eyes finding the floor as your teeth grazed your lips shyly at the weight of his words.

You couldn’t help the feeling that swelled in your chest at the lingering jealousy, and hearing him talk about wanting you as badly as you’d wanted him all this time gave you the confidence to push it.

“Oh he spoiled me good, you’re right,” you shrugged antagonistically, trying to quell the pain that still sat in your chest — albeit pain that took up much less space now that you’d found Cooper.

He scoffed, “That’s fightin’ talk for someone who don’t wanna see him again, darlin’.”

“Yeah well, he made me the happiest I’d been in the Wasteland since I left the vault and then tossed me aside ‘cause he got it in his head that I didn’t actually wanna be with him, like I must’ve been using him for his power and couldn’t really love him ‘cause he’s a fuckin’ ghoul — as if I didn’t know that when we met,” you grunted, “That’s all the fuckin’ chems for ya.”

Cooper leaned in closer to you now, “Well he’s a fuckin’ bigger idiot than I already thought he was, giving up you when he had ya all to himself like that.”

“Figure he doesn’t care. Might as well be married to Goodneighbor anyway.”

There was silence between you for a moment, nothing but heaved breaths and heavy eye contact as you pieced together what to do next.

You watched Cooper’s eyes flicker down to your lips for a moment, and could almost see the conflict behind them as he battled the urge to kiss you.

“I don’t wanna see him, but I don’t still want him, if that’s what’s stopping you,” you gulped, “In case it’s not loud and clear, I want you. Just didn’t wanna see him without any confirmation you aren’t gonna rock up there and declare me as some kinda fuckin’ pet and humiliate me even more than he did.”

“Enough talk about him,” Cooper growled, one hand pulling your face to his by the jaw, “If he don’t realise what he’s missin’, I definitely fuckin’ do.”

Finally, he kissed you.

Your hands flew around his neck, lips meeting his with equal fiery passion and pure need.

His one hand still remained cupping your jaw, whilst the other explored the waistband of your trousers earnestly, thumbing at your hipbone.

Finally, after all of these weeks of pining and sexual tension, Cooper Howard was giving you exactly what you needed — and all thoughts of John Hancock melted away.

You found yourself pulling him as close as physically possible, allowing him to press you against the wall as he stole your breath with the intensity of the kiss.

“Mightn’t be your first rodeo, sugar,” his lips pressed just behind your ear as he spoke, “But I’m sure as shit gonna make it feel like it is.”

———

eeeee please lmk if you’d like a part two with smut. or just a part two where they eventually go to goodneighbor. please feel free to request more coop or some hancock, and be warned there are more coop x hancock’s gf/ex!reader fics in the drafts because i can’t stop myself!!!!

in the meantime — here’s my masterlist.

[inbabylontheywept]

Kevin vs. Quantum Mechanics

This is an autobiographical piece. Names have been changed for anonymity, but it's otherwise left be. ---

The class's first suspicion of Kevin was that he had, somehow, cheated his way up to this course. He just seemed perpetually confused, and strangely antagonistic of the professor. The weirdest example of this was when he asked what an ion was (in a third year EE class?), and was informed that it referred to any positively or negatively charged particle. It would have been strange enough to ask, but his reply of "Either? That doesn't sound right" sealed him in as a well known character in the class of 19 people.

The real tipping point in our perception of him during a lecture where the professor mentioned practical uses for a neutron beam, and Kevin asked if a beam could be made out of some other neutral material. When asked "Like what?", he replied "An atom with all of its electrons removed." When we pointed out that the protons would make that abomination extremely positively charged, he just replied with "So what if we removed those too?" and then was baffled when we informed him that would just be neutrons.

That's high school level chemistry. Not knowing it was so incredibly strange that I felt like something was off, so I asked him if he'd like to grab lunch. He accepted, we chatted, and I finally began to get a sense of his origin story.

See, Kevin wasn't a junior/senior electrical engineer like the rest of us. Kevin was, in fact, three notable things: A business major, a sophomore, and a hardcore Catholic. All three of those are essential to understanding his scenario.

What had begun all of this was actually a conflict with Kevin and his roommate. Kevin frequently had his fundamental belief in Absolute Good, Absolute Bad, and Absolute Anything pushed back on by his roommate, who was in STEM. Said roommate kept invoking quantum mechanics as his proof against Absolute Knowledge. Kevin was tired of having something that he didn't understand thrown at his convictions, so he decided to take a quantum course to settle things once and for all.

Despite not having any of the pre-reqs.

He'd actually tried to take quantum for physicists first, but the school's physics department wouldn't let him. It's actually pretty strictly regulated, because it is a mandatory class for physics majors. However, because quantum is not mandatory for electrical engineers, there aren't really any built in requirements for the class. It's just assumed that nobody would actually try to take it until their third year because doing so would the be the mental equivalent to slamming your nuts in the car door. Just, pure suffering for no good reason.

Apparently, the counselors had tried to talk him out of it, but if Kevin was one thing, it was stubborn. He'd actually had to sign some papers basically saying "I was warned that this is incredibly stupid, but I refused to listen" in order to take the class.

He was actually pretty nice, if currently unaware of how bad he'd just fucked up. I paid for the lunch, wished him the best, and reported back to the class discord. We'd all been curious about this guy's story, but now that I had the truth, I could share it with the world.

Feelings were mixed. Some people thought he was going to drop out any minute now. Others thought that he wouldn't, be also that convincing him to drop now, while he still could, was the only ethical thing. Others figured that a policy of non-interference was best: The counselors couldn't dissuade him, and if we tried to do the same, he'd probably just think it was STEM elitism trying to guard its little clubhouse. He'd figure out how hard things were, or he'd fail. Either way, it would help him learn more about the world.

We wound up taking the approach of non-interference. If nothing else, understanding his origins gave us more patience when he asked bizarre questions. He wasn't trying to waste our time, he was just trying to cram three years of pre-reqs into a one semester course. He did get a little bit combative sometimes, and we could tell that he was really wracking his brain to try and find some sort of contradiction or error that he could use to bring the whole thing down, but he never could.

First test came by, and he bombed it. Completely unprepared. He'd taken Calc I, but he didn't know how to do integrals yet (that was Calc II). Worse, he was far past the drop date. I imagine most people in his shoes would've stopped struggling. They'd realize they were fucked and just let themselves fail, at least salvaging their other classes grades in the process. Why waste resources on an unwinnable battle?

Kevin never asked questions like that. If he was stupid enough to try it, he was stupid enough to finish it. God bless him.

He invited me to lunch after the test and said that the class was more fascinating than he'd ever imagined, but he didn't know if he'd be able to pass it. He asked if I could help, and I said...maybe. I brought the request to the discord, and from the eight people there I got three volunteers who admired this dork's tenacity. He was in over his head, miles beneath the surface, but his fighting spirit was fucking glorious. If he was willing to go down swinging, we were willing to bust our asses trying to get him caught up.

Some of the stuff was just extra homework we gave to the guy. We told him he needed to learn integrals, stat. We sent him some copies of basic software that can be used to teach the basics of linear circuit equations, and he practiced that game like it was HALO. Just, hours sunk into it. Absolutely godlike.

He was still scrabbling for air at just the surface level of the class, but he'd gone from abysmal failure to lingering on the boundary between life and death. Other people in the class started to learn about Kevin's origin story, and our little circle of four volunteer tutors grew to six. Every day, he had someone trying to help him either catch up in some way, or finish that week's homework. He'd gone from being seen as a nuisance that wasted class time to the underdog mascot.

He was getting twelve hours of personal tutoring a week, on top of three hours of classes, on top of six hours of office hours, on top of the coursework. I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that this kid was doing 40 hours a week just trying to pass this one single class.

Second test comes around and he gets a 60. He's ecstatic. We're ecstatic. Kid's too young to take out drinking so we just order a pizza and cheer like he just won gold at the Olympics.

After that second test, things hit another tipping point. With so much catch-up under his belt, he was able to focus a lot more on the actual material for the class. A borderline cinematic moment happened when I was trying to get ahead on the homework so that I could put more hours in on my senior project. Nobody else had finished it yet because it wasn't due for another week, so the specifics of the problem I was working on were still a mystery. I went to the professor's office hours and get some pointers, but he wasn't willing to give good hints when the HW wasn't due for another week or so. He said I still had time to think about it, which was true, but I wanted to be able to think about other things. Kevin had watched the whole conversation, waiting for his turn to ask the professor more simple questions, but when I left I got a text from him telling me to hop on zoom.

Kevin had finished it earlier, because Kevin started all of his homework the moment it was assigned. He needed to, in order to make sure that he could get it done on time. He'd finished it the day before, and was able to walk me through it.

From student, to teacher. I'm not exaggerating when I say that he probably saved me eight hours on that assignment. I could've kissed him.

A month or two later, we took the final. As soon as we were done, we six asked Kevin how he did. He was nervous, there was so much new material for him in this class that his retention hadn't been great. Us six were also a little stressed: We were going to pass the class, but the final was hard.

We waited for the results.

And waited. And waited.

Finally, the scores were posted as a table, curve included. From our class of 19 people, 4 withdrew within the deadline, 4 failed, 1 got a C, 8 got B's, and 2 got A's. We could see that the curve for a C was set at 59.2% overall.

We called Kevin. He was crying. End score, 59.2%. Teacher curved the C exactly to his score.

It was a week into winter break so we couldn't gather the forces around for a party like last time, but we were all losing our shit. Kevin was losing his shit. He couldn't believe how stupid he was to try this course, he couldn't believe that six people busted their ass just to make sure he didn't die, and he couldn't believe that the professor basically just passed him out of sheer effort alone.

He said it was the stupidest thing he'd ever done, and while I doubt that, it was outrageously stupid. And yet, I've never been so invested in a fellow student before. I'm prouder of Kevin's C than I am of my own B. I was walking on sunshine for weeks after that. In theory, my senior project was building a functioning washing machine, but in practice, in my heart, it was helping Kevin pass Intro to Quantum for Electrical Engineers.

(And as an epilogue: No, he did not renounce Catholicism and become an atheist like his roommate had hoped. He did walk out changed. I think that being that wrong about something, and realizing it, was a pivotal moment for him. It's hard to be dogmatic once you realize that a lifetime of being wrong feels exactly like a lifetime of being right, right up until the last two seconds of it.)

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

there truly is no words that can captivate my feelings for the au/what-ifs... EXCEPT FOR MADNESS

LET YN AND HIS SUSU BE IN LOVE!!! IM GOING TO START A PROTEST!!!!

❝ You know what sinners do when they love too soon (are you ready to die?) ❞

Geto Suguru x male!reader x Gojo Satoru | alternate universe, "evil" YN with his Susu | angst and NSFW warning | sub. bottom. reader (AMAB) | NOT PROOFREAD | wc: 7.4k

warnings: cults, extreme ideologies, mentions of arranged marriage, talks of death, implications of child soldiers, YN's father still sucks ass, anal sex, d. penetration

masterlist; part 1; part 2; part 3; alternate ending; playlist; au's and what if's

authors note: poly!satosuguyn if they weren't fluffy basically also, shout out to music anon for the title, I loved every title track you gave! gave me such a big boost for writing too!!! *YN is described as having a back scar from the fight with Fushiguro Toji

Like vinyl, dark stone, and crystal — Suguru's hair has always been one of his defining factors. Those healthy locks of inky black hair that glow a dark violet under light; no matter how he wears it, his hair is the envy of all. In the years that have passed, the envious stares grew greener the longer he wore it. With this change — among others — a new routine had been born between your small family.

Suguru does not tend to his hair. His husband and his daughters do. Not because he commands it. Suguru would never command them to do anything, especially if it came to taking care of himself. He was more than capable.

The three of you know this. But the habit does not stop. He takes care of all of you so you do the same in any way you can. Tonight, it will be your turn to ease him down. No missions, or meetings with the "money monkeys". Suguru will return home in his car and he will return home to his family and he will return home to you.

"Master (L/N)," Nanako calls out. She's dressed for sleep, her bangs already in curlers for tomorrow and smelling faintly of the rose hair oil she'd gotten from her trip to the city. Mimiko walks behind you, holding the tray of homemade food. You smile at the rose scent that wafts from her hair as well. "Yes, my darling?" You have told them they were allowed to refer to you without formality. Suguru had a title within his "organization" and so the twins calling him "Master Geto" was understandable — though entirely unnecessary. But if the girls felt more comfortable this way, you would not force them to change. "When we go to Tokyo, you're going to come with us to the crepe shop, right?" her eyes gleam up at you as she turns the screen of her phone to show the interior of the famous crepe restaurant. Despite not seeing a peek at a menu, you imagine it'll be daylight robbery. "Of course! I can't let you have all the fun," she giggles at the playful wiggle of your fingers her way. "I know a good spot for fruit parfait as well. Suguru and I used to go there as teenagers, I'm sure you'll love it." Mimiko settles beside you, and your hand finds itself atop her head in an appreciative gesture for her setting the table up.

"Really?" Nanako leans in next. "Did you use to go on dates with Master Geto? What was it like? Was he nervous?" Nanako can't imagine Master Geto being nervous, but the movie reel in her mind is unraveling, and she cannot stop herself. "Nervous?" You ponder the memory, the apples of your cheeks warming at her blatant curiosity. Geto Suguru, nervous? Even as teenagers, Suguru had always been someone you could rely on. It was rare to see him flustered or caught off-guard. The men and women who'd glance his way as you walked with him, the girls who would shyly sneak photos and giggle, or the braver ones who'd come up to him to ask what school he was from — he was never nervous about rejecting them or politely declining their compliments.

Mimiko leans in and you're between your daughters as they peek up at you. With your chin in between your pointer and thumb and nose turned up in the air with your closed eyes, Suguru wonders what you'd been discussing before he returned. "I'm home." This hideout was not the home he wanted for any of you. He envisioned a better life, a home with a big yard and less concrete. It was in no way ugly, but Suguru wishes he was more free to roam. Despite Gojo Satoru's refusal to take him and you to your execution, it did not mean there weren't other nuisances that'd jump at the chance to set this home on fire.

The twins gasp, greeting him with a smile while you remain in your pose with your brows furrowed deeply. "Master Geto, welcome back!" he brushes his hand over Nanako and Mimiko's heads, palm lingering on their nape with a fond smile as he makes his way to the dining table. "Dinner is almost done, Master Geto. Mr (L/N) has already prepared your bath," your eyes are open now but there's now a frown on your face as you gaze at the ceiling. "(Y/N)?" his brow creases at the lack of reply. “Darling? What are you thinking about?” Suguru’s palm places itself on your shoulder as if on instinct your body leans into his embrace. His gojo-gesa has the scent of cigarettes and of the outside world but you don’t mind cleaning up with him so you let him squeeze you closer.

“Sweetheart?”

“The girls were asking if I’ve ever seen you nervous before when we were teenagers,” you mumble absentmindedly, “I’m just thinking. I can’t recall any...”

You drop your hand and instead turn to face Suguru. He looks tired but his smile keeps it at bay. You can’t believe it’s been 10 years since you’ve been Suguru’s husband. But the proof is in front of you; on his face.

Suguru was undeniably handsome. That hadn't changed. His skin was still supple, not yet blotchy or spotted with age spots; his hair had a few streaks of grey but they blended in so seamlessly with his inky locks. No, no - it’s his eyes mostly. That violet colour that bleeds from his pupil, makes the hazel around it much more bright. But there is not much youth left in it, not like when the two of you were still sorcerers instead of curse-users. The fat under his eyes and the slightly darkened skin tone was a reward for all the nights he spent awake, the slight sunken cheeks that he never really filled out were there too.

All the things that were the same and all the things that were new about Suguru made your heart flutter.

“You’ve always been so sure of yourself, Suguru. It’s a bit annoying saying it out loud,” his smile widens and a quiet chuckle follows it. “You’re just jealous, I recall you stuttering and blushing when you confessed to us about how much you really liked us.”

Us.

Mimiko and Nanako tilt their heads.

“Us?”

Second-year students. The expectations of your father, the expectations of sorcerer society on Satoru. Dowry sent, marriage proposal lingering in the air. Your heart is prepared to be devastated by the yes or no you’ve received because in truth you did not want Gojo Satoru - not like this and not just him.

You wanted - no, you loved the two of them. There was no denying they loved each other, the shy glances and magnetic forcefield around them constantly made them to be touching each other was proof. But they did the same to you too and you felt like you were going crazy just thinking of the way Satoru spoonfed you ice cream or how Suguru pressed you to his front when a curse nearly grabbed you.

Before a yes or no could ruin you, you’d told the two of them to head to your dorm. You would spill your guts to them with honour and pride.

You didn’t.

You tried. But as you held the metaphorical blade to your stomach your eyes welled with tears and you began to weep. Satoru was on your right and Suguru was on your left. Their hands were over your back and on your knees and their warmth and scent just made you sob.

“I love you, Satoru, Suguru. I love you both. I think - I think I really do, and I can’t...I don’t...I feel like I’m going insane.”

Suguru’s next smile came with less enthusiasm. You say nothing as he squeezes you in closer, the sleeve of his robe hiding most of you from view and that deep blue shines under the dining room light; shines true and blue and your heart aches.

Suguru says he’ll wash up with you now and the girls know better than to pry when their father gets this way. He’s never rude about it, in fact, it’s obscenely polite how he just removes himself from the room to do one thing or the other. Some topics he wishes not to talk about but the girls know what “us” means.

“He was my best friend. My one and only.”

“Gojo Satoru? He was...he was my everything.”

The shower had been mostly silent. Which you thought was not out of the blue. The spray of water and the echoing of it all, well, it made people sink into their own thoughts and you secretly appreciated Suguru for allowing you to do the same. You pumped some soap into the silicone scrubber and began washing his back.

There was a scar on his shoulder from Togetta - his spear-wielding curse - and on his side, there was another scar from Frederick, his dragon. They were more or less faded but you were careful as you touched them. Suguru hums when you rinse him off but stills when you wrap your arms around him and stroke the scar on his chest.

“...Does it still hurt?” he can feel your cheeks moving as they’re smushed to his shoulder. “Sometimes,” he whispers. You trace over it and curse that ape of a man. Curse him to hell and whatever it is he believed in.

Then you wonder if Satoru has scars too.

Your eyes sting and you pull away from Suguru. The heaviness of your thoughts lifts away from him, and he sighs through his nose.

The bath is warm and it makes your tense muscles unbind. Suguru insisted you lay between his legs and you only obliged after a few kisses and promises of your favourite snacks.

His arms are firmly around you and they trace shapes into your thighs, you watch him despite the soapy water and blurred vision.

“Cocks aren’t quite pretty when they’re all limp, huh?” Suguru is caught off-guard by your words, his eyes split open and he stares at you like you’ve grown horns.

“Excuse me?”

You jerk your chin to the thing between your legs.

“Looks like the sea cucumber 'Toru was swinging around at the beach.” Suguru bursts out in laughter, his chest rising and falling as he hangs his head on your shoulder, hiding his face as he peeks at the thing between your legs.

"It's pretty," he chuckles out.

"Liar," you reply. Suguru's nimble fingers trace your thighs and he wraps them around your dick, your breath hitches but your eyes do not flutter close. Tendrils of his hair slip past his ear and tickle your neck but you're not like Satoru — your neck is not ticklish and Suguru presses a kiss there as he pumps his fist. "It's pretty," he affirms with a delicious twist of his wrist, his thumb pressing onto the tip of your cock with just the right of pressure that makes you chew on your lower lip. "It's perfect, (nickname). A perfect cock that I love, that's twitching in my hand, sweet and warm, and when I stroke here." Suguru dips his thumb below the mushroom tip of your dick, slipping it down to your base where his deft fingers squeeze, pulling his fist up and wrapping his palm around your head and it has your breath stuttering. "My precious boy sounds so sweet." "The girls," you whisper out, blushing as the water jostles at his actions. "They've made you dinner, S'guru, they're — ah! — they're waiting," you hold his wrist and he noses under your jaw, sucking your skin and you inhale sharply. "You're so hard." "S'guru..." "You're so close." "Su — fuck!" His shoulder cushions your head, chest arching upwards as he continues his actions without shame. He braces your twitching thighs open with his other hand and you're at his mercy as he unravels you. "Su — Su — nghah —" "Yes, (nickname)?" he coos at you. Your eyes narrow but they roll back as you feel your balls tighten, heat coiling in your stomach like a serpent. Covering your mouth, you breathe through your nose as your ass lifts from the tub and Suguru whistles in admiration, watching the rope of cum shoot out, landing in the water and on the rim of the tub. When you fall back, Suguru's cock presses on your back. He pulls your hand away and claims your lips, brows pinching at the taste of heaven. Sucking on your tongue, nipping at your lips, it leaves you dizzy. "The girls," he says suddenly as he pulls away from the kiss. You pant, lips wet with spit. A breath, then two, before you shakily nod. "They're waiting..."

Dinner was thankfully still warm by the time Suguru and you had finished your bath. The girls share a knowing look and you comfort yourself with the fact that they always share a look. A twin thing, Nanako told you. For your sanity, you decide it's best not to prod for more. Suguru asks them about their day. What they found, what they ate, asked if they needed anything at the end of the day whilst washing the dishes. He settles with them in the living room, pulling you into his side and the girls gather at his knees. Nanako places her head in your lap and Mimiko does the same to Suguru. Naturally, you reach for Nanako's hair and she allows it with a hum. You braid her hair as Mimiko and Suguru discuss the latest news of the show she was watching, of the rich non-sorcerer and the cursed spirit she set loose on him. "I think he thought the spam text he got was a divine sign," she scoffs out. "I'm sure he'll be making an appointment with you soon, Master Geto." "A job well done, Mimiko." Nanako leans into your touch as you card your fingers through her hair, loosening up some of the braids, wary of her sensitive scalp. Suguru tilts his head as you reach for it, brow raised in question, and even more, as you take his hairband, his hair falling over his back once again. "Nanako, straighten your back a bit." The sight of you with his girls makes his heart swell. "There we go, not too tight, darling?" she shakes her head, pinching Mimiko's arm to ask for her camera. "You look so pretty, sis!"

"You look fine, sis," Megumi mutters, and Tsumiki's shoulders droop.

"'Gumi, you're not helping me," she huffs. "Red or blue?" Megumi doesn't think it matters. So long as the mittens kept her hands warm, why would the colour of it matter? Even without speaking, his thoughts are written on his face, so Tsumiki turns to Satoru instead. "Mr Sa — Mr Satoru?" She blinks rapidly. It's hard to lose the tall man. His snow-white hair, the gauze wrapping his eyes, the obnoxious voice that cackles and giggles with glee — Megumi can sense his cursed energy but not being able to see him does make the boy straighten his back. "Ah, your father," the sales assistant walks up to them, holding a tray of mittens. This time the colours ranged from black, pink, purple, and yellow. She points her thumb in the direction of the store's entrance. "He said he had to take a call, he told you two to stay here while you wait. We've prepared some hot chocolate for you — you two don't have any allergies, do you?" Tsumiki answers their question, a bit flustered at the news while Megumi stares at the door. Their car is still outside, no longer idling and with the cafes around here he's sure Satoru had asked the driver to wait elsewhere too. He wonders where he's gone. Did he sense a curse? Was it an important call? "...Whatever," he turns to the next tray. The chocolate drink was warm, comforting, and present. He just hoped whatever got Satoru's attention didn't take too long. Satoru's footsteps halt in front of the restaurant. Some barbeque place that'd make the scent of grilled meat, cheap beer, and smoke stick to your clothes. He enters, bowing a bit to avoid bumping his head on the doorframe. The server perks up at the sight of him but his eyes zero in on you. Leaning on the threshold of one of their private rooms, just behind the server's shoulder. You're dressed in a turtleneck sweater, the colour making your skin look like a dream. When your eyes lock in, he has to stop himself from returning the smile you give him. "Don't worry about it," he tells the server as he walks past him and straight into the room. He takes off his shoes, clenching and unclenching his hands into fists for a moment before he slides the doors open. "Satoru, you came." Suguru is dressed in a turtleneck as well, his hair tied up in a half-up half-down hairdo, his stubborn bangs still framing his face. You're sat next to him, pouring some drinks into a cup. "Of course he would, Su-Su. Don't sound so surprised," your words aren't meant to be mocking but Satoru's jaw clenches anyways. "He's our husband after all," you meet his eyes again and the grin on your face is so sincere Satoru feels like he'd been slapped in the face with guilt. "Husband?" He slid the doors closed, ignoring the two cursed spirits that were in the corner of the room. "You two must miss me a lot to use that title again, the last time — " "The last time, you claimed we weren't," you snap. Suguru squeezes your knee under the table. The last time, the three of you had gotten into a fight. It was the usual. He pleads for the two of you to come back, you plead for him to join your cause, and Suguru tells you that Satoru won't which will light a fire in you that neither can extinguish.

"Forgive me for stating the obvious fact that husbands should share a home together," Satoru sits across from the both of you and although your words are harsh, you move to sit next to him. "We have a home that we can share," you wrap your arms around him and Satoru's arms pull you in closer. "You just won't come home, Toru. Come home."

It pains him to hear you say this again. His home had always been the two of you. It hurts him that he can only meet his husbands in secret as if it is something to be ashamed of. But what other option did you give him? "(Y/N)," Suguru calls out. You frown but you drop it in favour of kissing Satoru. He likes kissing you. The arms around your waist tighten and he groans into the kiss. Suguru watches the two of you over the rim of his cup. He watches as Satoru slips his hands up your sweater and shivers from his cold touch. "Sa — Toru — " he ignores you, parting from the kiss to instead latch his glossy lips to your now exposed nipples. He ignores the grip you have on his shoulders, the wriggling of your torso and simply pulling you in closer.

"Impatient as ever, Satoru." Suguru places his cup down just as Satoru pushes the side dishes away from the table to place you there. This room was one without a grill, thankfully, and the cooked meat would be sent to the room instead.

Satoru ignores Suguru as well, intently marking you up. The low table digs uncomfortably in the back of your thighs as Satoru's weight on you makes you breathless. Suguru reaches out, grabs a fistful of Satoru's hair, and forces him to look at him.

"Satoru. You're being mean." Suguru tilts his head down and it makes Satoru's dick fill up in his pants.

"Not without any prompting," he defends as he surges up. Their noses bump into each other and without a second to waste, Satoru claims Suguru's lips with a righteousness that makes Suguru smile.

You watch as their lips press together, licking yours as Suguru makes Satoru groan when he tightens his hold on his hair once again. It is still the strongest sorcerer in his spot. Akin to a kitten being grabbed by his scruff. Except Satoru isn't a defenseless kitten now, is he?

He's a mysterious beast that belongs in prophecies and myths. A white dragon with shimmering scales that shone in every colour like opal under the sun. His teeth are so large and dark, his maw harbors Death within it. But not for his husbands, no.

For his husbands, this mighty dragon's maw is a source of pleasure. Satoru gulps thickly as your tongue traces the hill of his throat. Your mouth latching onto his neck like a lamprey, all teeth as you mottle his skin. His poor husband, his darling beloved, his (Y/N); you must've missed him.

That's the only way he can rationalize your need to pull down his scarf, tossing it aside as you reach beneath the layers of his jacket and shirt to feel his naked skin. Suguru moans out your name between the kissing when Satoru whispers it to him, his eyes fluttering open as Suguru unravels the bandages around his eyes.

"Husband," you call out, teasingly nipping at Satoru's chin as you sit up properly. Suguru kisses the crown of your head, pressing a kiss to your nape as his warm hands squeeze at your clothed thighs. Heaven looks your way and it relishes in the way your pupils dilate.

It's proof this love is real. Forgive him for doubting you, but he misses you so badly, (Y/N). He wants his husband's home, so his bed is never cold.

He envies the both of you. Not knowing how large your bed feels even when the both of you hold onto each other because that's how awful love is; it lacerates deeply into your skin, going past the layers until all you do is bleed. The cruelest thing is, that it requires to be stitched up and tended to but refuses anything other than the one you desire the most.

When fate is in the way of that, all you can do is bleed and hurt.

It's not that you're not enough for Suguru or Suguru is not enough for you. It's that the both of you have cut each other so deeply, not being together only ever leaves all three of you aching.

Incomplete. Jagged. Cracked. Flawed.

But when the both of them have their lips on you? When their large hands grope and caress you as if you were the only medicine they needed? When your name rolls off their tongues and they beg for you to allow them to please you?

"Satoru, Suguru." Your husbands lean in. Suguru on your left, from behind you, answers your call with a deep hum that makes your cheeks warm. On your right, Satoru presses a kiss to your jaw, an airy 'yeah, baby?' coming from him that makes Suguru pry your thighs apart.

"I missed you."

They understand what you mean. They understand what you need.

The curses keep the door closed, staring aimlessly like statues. Unbothered by the sight before them.

The side dishes that had fallen are staining the flooring but Satoru will be sure to leave a hefty tip for the restaurant to turn a blind eye towards it. The more pressing matter is the way you're being bounced in front of him.

He's panting, eyes trained on the hands gripping onto the mounds of your ass. It kneads and pulls it apart, deliberately showing him the way you're clenched around Suguru's dick. How easily you take him in and how with every drag down, you squeeze around him so deliciously it makes Suguru's balls tighten.

You toss your head back, moaning out wantonly as Suguru sucks his teeth. Satoru presses his palms to your waist and you grin loosely as he tilts your head further back just so he can kiss you. With how uncoordinated the position is, it's a bit messy but it makes your dick strain against Suguru's stomach.

"Think you're ready for me too, my beloved?" Satoru murmurs, relishing in the way you're gazing up at him. "Why do you need to ask such silly questions," you whine.

"I was made to take the both of you."

Suguru chuckles, giving you a thrust that has you hiccuping in pleasure. "Such a dutiful husband, aren't you?" Satoru teases, reaching forward to cup your chest in his hands and palming at your nipples.

"Of course he is, Satoru," Suguru replies with a smooth tone of voice. "He's ours. He's perfection. Like he said, made just for us."

You preen under their words and touches. Overwhelmed with want as your hands pull away from Suguru's neck and reach for Satoru's biceps.

"Stop toying with me. Fill me, completely," you ignore the way your heart aches at the way Satoru is gazing at you. "Fill me until I can only think of pleasure."

"What man says no to such a sweet command," his kiss on your shoulder simply makes the heartache stronger. You wish this could be forever. Not just monthly romps that get spaced out between arguments of disapproval or busy schedules.

Satoru doesn't deserve that. Suguru and you don't deserve that.

It's the damn world that's at fault. That man with that freakish scar, the higher-ups who recruit children to fight their battles. Who placed the weight of the world onto your shoulders and shoved you into the battlefield. It's a graveyard and the longer you stay on it, burdened by responsibility that no child should carry, the more prominent the name on the headstones becomes. That school, the generation that comes after you, do they know the halls are tombs?

Why should children fight for the weak?

Why should older sorcerers use children as vessels to prolong their existence?

Why can't the world just allow you to live in peace?

These scars are engraved in your body and heart. They should not be there. But they are anyway and it's the reason you gaze down at white sheets with disdain.

Riko, Amanai, Haibara.

Satoru...

Flashes of him bled out and dead on the stones of Tokyo High make you rigid. Satoru is talking to you, but his voice sounds like a distant echo. Suguru cups your cheek and you squeeze your eyes closed.

"Please, I only want to feel you." Your tears darken your lashes and Suguru shares a look with Satoru. They speak without words and you can hear their mute conversation without even stealing a glance.

"I just need to feel you."

Suguru lifts you and you cry out in despair so he kisses you to assure you. "Just changing your position, my love. Here, I know you miss this rude man."

You're facing Satoru now and you can see that pinkish scar on his forehead, his neck having a stark star-like scar, when your hands grip the top of his thighs; you can feel the rise of ripped skin. Everyone assumes he never got hurt, much less has such an array of scars, but you and Suguru know better.

Suguru squeezes your waist and he tucks his head to your neck. His chin balances on your shoulder as his lashes brush along your skin. Satoru is silent as you comb his bangs away, your thumb brushing over his scar. "Does it ever hurt?" You ask. He brings the tip of your fingers to his lips. "Never. Nothing but a blemish."

Suguru scoffs, the scar across his chest bumping into the one on your back. If you close your eyes, you can probably hear the sound of friction your skin creates. Satoru smirks at Suguru, taking your finger into his mouth. His teeth press down on your joint and you giggle at the silliness.

His dexterous tongue is more cheeky in its endeavors. Purposefully, he closes his lips around the digit, sucking lightly and letting his tongue remind you of those nights he spent languid hours between your legs in Suguru's dorm room.

"You're perverted," you pant out. "You love me," Satoru mumbles. "Fortunately for you, we do," Suguru muses.

Satoru pulls your finger out, leaning in to kiss you. Your lips part as his tongue slithers inside, stealing your breath and soul. Greedily, Suguru twists your face and separates the both of you, the string of saliva breaking as you gasp into his mouth next.

Satoru isn't heartbroken. The sight is heaven and he imprints it into his brain. Reaching down, Satoru carefully lifts your hips and you quickly get the hint. He lets you go, grabbing onto his cock and lining it up with your entrance that's craving for him.

Suguru watches you while your eyes roll. Satoru inhales, eyebrow twinging at the heat that wraps around him.

"I missed this hole, my perfect little hole," he groans out. Obsessed with the way you stretch out around him, clenching and unclenching as he eases you down on his cock.

"Good boy," Suguru whispers to you, his hands grasping your cock and stroking you. "You're almost halfway down. That's it, baby."

"Suguru," he calls out. Nodding, Suguru presses a kiss to your shoulder, grabbing his own dick to press his head to your hole. Satoru spits into his palm, rolling it over your tip which makes you keen.

"Uh-uh. Loosen up, (Y/N). Easy, baby." Satoru 'scolds'. You hang your head down, panting as you feel Suguru nudging into you. Your empty hands reach to hold onto Suguru's knees. "Such a good boy. I'm almost inside, shhh, it's alright. You can do it, baby. I know you can."

Satoru laughs breathlessly as he feels Suguru's length rub against his, biting down on his lip at the sensation. You're whining at the stretch and Satoru shushes you, stroking your cock in just the right way that makes both of your husbands moan when you tighten around them.

"Fuuuck," Suguru's open-mouthed breathing on your nape coupled with the sight of Satoru's head tossed back makes you feel bold enough to allow gravity to help you the rest of the way down.

The loud 'plap' sound that echoes when you drop down makes Satoru and Suguru choke out your name. You're gasping, lips loosely pulled in a grin; completely proud of yourself.

"I'm the pervert?" Satoru groans out. "As if yuh - you can take two big cocks up yours," you retort. "The both of you are insane," Suguru concludes.

It's a symphony of movement and noise. As Suguru thrusts out, Satoru thrusts in; that sweet bundle of nerves never getting a moment of reprieve. The sheen of sweat that glimmers on your skin makes you cold, so you reach for them and they press closer. Sandwiching you between their bodies.

Their mouths mottle what skin they can reach. Their teeth taint your flesh. Satoru is bruising your mouth while Suguru's hands are leaving prints all over your hips and Satoru's waist.

It's Satoru that proposes new positions. Clearly pent-up as he takes you in any way he can. Cushioning your back as Suguru fucks you from above, scratching the back of your thighs as he holds your legs open for Suguru.

His mouth takes you in while Suguru laps up their cum from your hole. The sounds you make together are absolutely obscene. The low table has you pinned on it more than once, toppling over as Suguru teasingly rips you away and Satoru gives chase.

It's fun. It's passionate. It's love in its filthiest form.

The laughter, the moans, the pleading, the tears, the cum, the sweat.

By the end of it?

The room is a mess. Your thighs are twitching as Suguru sweetly brushes your hair away from your face, encouraging Satoru to pump another load into you with that saccharine-sweet voice of his.

"Aw, that's it, Satoru. You're doing so well, making our (Y/N) feel so good, yeah? You feel good, baby?"

You whimper, cock weakly twitching on your stomach in a pool of its own wetness. Each thrust makes it spurt more and Satoru is rabid as he watches. Suguru chuckles, kissing you again and Satoru groans as he thrusts as deeply as he can inside of you to paint your insides white.

"S'toru," you shakily moan. Giving one last pathetic dribble of pearls.

"What a good boy, the both of you," Suguru laughs as Satoru barely catches himself from falling completely on top of you. Satoru kisses Suguru back, groaning as he does and you moan as you feel his dick twitch inside of you.

"We can't," Suguru whispers. "One more time, please," Satoru pleads. "We can't," you pant out.

His jaw sets. When he pulls out, you shudder as their cum trails out. Satoru stares at the floor, panting while Suguru summons the curses to come closer. One holds out a bowl of warm water while the other has a cloth.

"Don't," Suguru mutters, "Don't bring it up, Satoru."

He sniffles, the act derisive, and stands up. You watch him, the haze you're in quickly dissipating at the anger in his eyes.

"You could come home —"

"Satoru," you plead.

"No! You could! Come home, so this won't end!"

Your body — that was all limp and relaxed — tenses. Suguru narrows his eyes at Satoru as he cleans you up, wiping away what he can. The action feels bittersweet. As if this meeting of passion was something to be ashamed of when it shouldn't be. You had the right to wear their love with pride but yet...

Here you are.

"Why can't you just come home?" Satoru's shoulders drop, defeated. Like that day Suguru and you announced your decision to betray Sorcerer Society by becoming Curse Users.

"There's room for you." You lean against Suguru as he helps you to sit. "Satoru, please. You know we want nothing more than — "

"(Y/N)," Suguru's voice is curt and his tone icy. You frown at him, shaking your head as you turn to face your Satoru.

"If you could only just, just see what we do —"

"Kill civilians? Scam them out of their money?" He scoffs. Satoru reaches for his discarded clothes and snatches the towel Suguru's curse spirit offers to wipe himself down.

"They deserved what they got!" Your argument is met with a reproachful glare. Suguru warns Satoru with a glance and it simply fuels his ire.

"My daughter is a non-sorcerer. Does she deserve death too?" "Our daughter's only crime was that they were sorcerers! Those villagers, you didn't see what they did."

"Don't start," Satoru growls. He's pulling on his shirt, and his pants. "What else could we have done?" You growl out.

Satoru turns to you, spreading his arms out in a display of annoyance.

"Called me! Called Shoko! Several other choices could have been made at that moment instead of massacring and burning down the entire village!"

"That's enough."

"And let the higher-ups enroll the girls into the school? Let them die like you did? Like Haibara!?"

"That's enough!"

Suguru's yell causes the both of you to flinch. His violet eyes are set in a glare and his usually curled lips are now downturned. He is not angry but the disappointment is clear. It's aimed at both of you.

"Let's not end this date on a sour note. It's late. We should go home."

"Suguru," it would amuse him how Satoru and you call out to him in unison and it does. It reminds him of those days when you'd be clinging onto his back while Satoru pokes his side, begging for him to do whatever it is your mischief wishes for him to. Shoko only fuelling the fire to see him groan and roll his eyes.

But this time, it causes him heartache.

"We love each other. We don't need to be screaming at each other like this."

It's dark out by the time Satoru walks back into the store. The workers greet him with enthusiasm, sheepishly showing him how Tsumiki is taking a nap in the employee's break room — which is decidedly now as fancy as the rest of the store — and Megumi giving him a hard glare.

"Was it an emergency?" He mutters. Satoru nods, walking to Tsumiki and gently nudging her awake.

"It better have been. We waited for hours."

"They gave us...hot cocoa though," Satoru grins at her yawning expression, patting her head. "Sorry for the wait, c'mon. Let's go home, yeah?"

He can't fathom what sin Tsumiki had committed against humanity. Being born without a sorcerer, being born weak, was that really a grave enough sin for her to be killed?

Tsumiki yawns once more and when Satoru extends a hand for her to take, she squeezes assuringly.

Megumi doesn't take his other but Satoru smoothly slips it into his pocket as they head to the cashier to pay for their designer mittens and whatever else they added into their cart.

Satoru glances out into the street, frowning as he sees you and Suguru passing by.

The way you glance at Tsumiki and Megumi...

Satoru loves you and Suguru more than he can express but there was no way in hell he was going to let you hurt his kids.

He tells you this without words and in a split second your eyes meet.

You relay the same information back as two girls rush to your side. Satoru only sees their hands and the slightest sliver of dark and blonde heads of hair before you disappear from sight.

"Are you okay, Mr Satoru?" Tsumiki asks, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"I'm fine, sweetheart. It's just a little chilly."

"Emerge from darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure."

"Did you miss this?" Suguru chuckles at your words. "The courtyard of our beloved school? Surprisingly, not. Though the memories are sweet."

The veil around you draws your eyes upwards. Spinning on the tips of your toes, you twirl along the sloped tiles of the school, if only to make Suguru laugh.

"Once we kill Okkotsu Yuuta and take Rika, you'll use Divine Flame and burn everything down. I'm sure your father will appreciate your prowess."

He holds you as you drape yourself across his front, kissing you back when you connect your lips together.

"It'll be a battle of lovers," you muse. "I'll look forward to seeing you in battle, (Y/N). It's been a while since you've had the chance to give it your all." Suguru presses another kiss to your lips, earning a giggle from you.

"That Cursed Corpse is Yaga's, isn't he?" He nods against you. "The non-sorcerer is yours to defeat. I'll burn that plushie to ash."

"You're ruthless," he purrs. "You love it," you reply.

"The world we longed for. Is here before my eyes!" Suguru exclaims from beside you, his eyes filling with tears that make yours do the same.

"It's a shame, Okkotsu." You sigh out, straightening your back as you grin at his wide eyes. "Killing you wasn't in our initial plans."

"Come, Rika!"

The sight of her makes your grin stretch from ear to ear. Suguru and you stand your ground, your palms warming up as excitement brews within you. That ideal you've fought for, the world where no sorcerer shall ever know fear or pain; it's just a reach away.

The only thing standing between you is Okkotsu Yuuta and his rabid lover. Once she was Suguru's? You expect nothing more than cowardice from those higher-ups.

"I'll keep her away from you," you tell him as you roll your shoulders. Watching as Yuuta slices through the storm of Suguru's curses with his sword. "You focus on him." The ground beneath you is blackened, spindly legs and antennas emerge just as Yuuta lands on the lamp post. His gaze on you is nothing short of murderous.

"It seems like he'll make this worthwhile, Su-Su."

"I expect nothing less. Stay sharp, my love."

You nod, your breath coming out in dark flames as you prepare to ensure your daughters will no longer know the injustice they were born into.

The fight is fast. The four of you are in that tight space of the corridors. Rika growls and snarls as she slices at you while you keep her away from Suguru and Yuuta. She's furious, screeching for you to get away while you use your flames as a barrier. The heat causes sweat to bead down Yuuta's temple and Suguru laughs at him.

"My husband's impressive, isn't he?"

"Shut up!" His sword comes into contact with Playful Cloud. When it shatters, your victory is so close now that both of you can taste it.

Suguru shielded you from what he can, but it's a vain effort. You're draped on his back, breath coming out in shallow inhales and exhales.

"S...s'guru." He hmms in acknowledgment, leaning against the wall as he tries to catch his breath. "It was a glorious fight," you whisper. "It was, my love. It was..."

His knees buckle, so you tighten your grip on him and he assures you he's alright. Suguru hears footsteps and without even looking at him, he knows that Satoru has arrived.

"Late as usual," Suguru teases.

Satoru lifts you from Suguru's back, carrying you in his arms as Suguru slides down the wall, resting on his haunches as he stares up at Satoru.

You're in bad shape. Just like he was. Your back is nearly charred, your right hand gone and bloodied. Satoru's jaw sets as your eyes flutter open, his brows tightening as you whisper his name.

"You're here, 'Toru."

He crouches down, setting you on Suguru's lap. He balances you out, nuzzling into your face as your hand reaches to grab what you can. The rings on your fingers, glimmering under the setting sun, cause Satoru to kneel before you.

"Of course, I am, my beloved." When he holds your face, it's gentle and sweet.

It's unfair how the last time he held both of you ended in an argument, the last time you talked was when Suguru announced war.

He leans in, kissing your bloodied lips and doing the same to Suguru.

One last time, it doesn't quite register in your mind that this would be the last time you'd see your Satoru and Suguru. Your daughters, oh your poor daughters.

"...Are there any last words you'd like to say?"

Suguru chuckles while you sigh, eyelids growing heavy as your lungs breathe out black smoke. You're warm. Too warm. Suguru clutches you closer, every breath he feels on his skin feels like a grain of sand falling.

"At least, curse us a little at the end," Suguru chuckles out. "Satoru, Suguru...I," your whisper fades off.

Your head grows heavier and Suguru glances down at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"(Y/N)...(Y/N)...? Beloved — " You feel Suguru dig his nails into your sides and Satoru's hand on your face.

Then it goes dark.

"There's something different about him," Maki mumbles as she motions to Satoru. Yuuta, Inumaki, and Panda turn to watch him. Classes had finished a long while ago, it went along like it usually did. Satoru was his exuberant self — with awful explanations that raise more questions than it does answers.

"Really?" Panda scratches his ears, "He seems like his usual self."

"Well, he does seem a bit more quiet lately," Yuta mumbles. Inumaki nods, voicing his agreement.

"What are you kids doing here? It's late." The students flinch, surprised at the sight of Shoko as she emerged from the goddamn shadows. "Dinners getting cold. Go ahead."

As they rush off, Shoko meanders her way towards Satoru. He's sat in that obnoxious chair, head tilted up at the ceiling as his hands toy with the matching rings in his pockets.

She settles next to him, leaning to stare at the ceiling as well.

"You can't keep him a secret forever." Shoko sighs. "Why didn't you exorcise him?"

"His wounds were already too great, I didn't..."

The ceiling is an ever-shifting mirror, a distorted mess of flames and eyes as you groan. Your form isn't quite there yet, knowing just when it's best to hide away and keep away from the eyes of other sorcerers.

What else did Satoru expect from his husband? An intelligent Cursed Spirit, tied loyally to his side.

"When they find out?" Shoko inquires.

"I won't let them take him from me again."

[meggahamicide]

Okay, i've decided that i'm just gonna drop/dump some lore on Vermin, so if you're interested, read below! It's really long!

...o.0.O.0.o...

Personality:

Like canon-Leo's head-cannons, Vermin hides his true emotions behind a smile, but their differences are in the execution. Vermin's smiles are more wicked, more cruel, and he find amusement in making people fear him, having experience in getting people to listen to him by intimidating them.

He pretends to be indifferent to how the brothers act around him, but always keeps an eye out for any signs that they aren't as they say they are. Donnie specifically.

Big emotions are a no-no, so he hides them behind a passive face, empty of anything he's feeling so he can convince those he's talking with that he feels nothing, that he is unaffected by any stressors and anxiety. If anything get's too overwhelming, he retreats to a hidden corner to wait it out and tries not to remember how Draxum treated him when he let his emotions get the better of him.

Because he was raise without certain privileges, he gets extremely giddy around new experiences, such as sampling new foods and trying out video games and skateboarding. It's probably the only time he lets his guard down because he's so entranced by whatever is happening he forgets that he's not supposed to be showing emotion.

...o.0.O.0.o...

Relationships:

Raphael:

With Raph, Vermin just doesn't know how to deal with him. An injury brings Vermin to the lair and Raph is the one who heals him, but Vermin in uncertain whether or not he can trust someone with such obvious strength he can easily use to harm Vermin. He doesn't understand why Raph is so kind nervous when he could dominate his enemies.

Michelangelo:

Mikey is the one Vermin accepts the easiest other than April. Mikey has a way to handle Vermin without being too invasive and without threatening the slider in any way shape or form and eventually shows Vermin that there is kindness that is not expected to be repaid. He also helps Vermin lean into his chaotic mindset without it becoming harmful to others, like teaching him how to prank the other brothers.

And of course, Vermin loves trying his food, so Mikey basically tempts the slider like he might a feral cat.

Donatello:

Donnie is the one Vermin has the hardest time accepting. He's convinced he can easily beat the soft-shell in a fight, but once he discovers that Donnie is a scientist, he becomes wary of him, skittish and uncomfortable whenever he's around. He knows that there are other ways to get someone to obey than simply fighting.

It takes Donnie being patient and showing him that he means no harm over time that earns his trust. The softshell just has to break through the notion that all scientist are evil and only seek to destroy that which is closest to them. Donnie even goes as far as to promise to never let anything happen to Vermin ever again.

April O'Neil:

The first one to show kindness when Vermin leaves Draxum's lab. She shows the slider a side of society that he was being deprived of when he was with Draxum, helping him see that there is a place for everyone, that things don't need to hurt to be beneficial. She pretty much forcefully adopts him as her little brother and is even protective of him when he interacts with her other brothers.

Baron Draxum:

Was raised by Draxum. More info in the timeline.

...o.0.O.0.o...

Timeline:

Content Warnings: blood and injury, references to child abuse, loss of limb, needles, non-consensual drug use (kind of), non-consensual experimentation and surgery.

It gets dark, so be cautious of the warnings!

Age 0-4:

In the beginning, Lou Jitsu, later known as Splinter, only rescues three of the turtles, who eventually go by the name Donatello, Raphael, and Michelangelo. The remaining turtle, identified by his red markings, is picked up by Baron Draxum before the lab explodes, destroying his life work. The only remaining bit of his research is the tiny creature small enough in the palm of his hand.

Quick to find a place to stay and recover, the Baron begins working to piece together his research using his subject. He starts a book, scribbling down anything worth noting and refraining from any larger tests besides bloodwork and skin-scraping until the subject is larger, better able to withstand any more intrusive tests.

He begins raising the creature, claiming it as his own.

Age 5-8:

Called by the title Red, the slider reaches acceptable cognizance to begin training by the age of five. He is small, just below the Baron's knee, but he is intelligent enough to understand complex problem solving and language. Weapons training is less successful than desired, but that could be related to the subject's weaker limbs and child-like nature.

Baron Draxum is relentless in his education, always prepared to deliver swift punishment should Red be unable to comply with his desires. Red hates the punishment, often times covered in bruises from the extra training or with a headache from spending his nights in 'The Room,' but he is just as stubborn as his guardian, if not more so. He always seeks to make his boss proud, ignoring the voice that always tells him he's not strong enough, not good enough. Baron Draxum always has a reason for saying things like that, so Red knows he just has to try harder.

He's not exactly sure what a human is, but the Baron is convinced that he needs to kill them all.

Every other week, the Baron brings Red to another room where he 'collects samples.' Red doesn't know what they're for, but he's seen the elder gather some of his freshly peeled chutes and teeth when they fall off, always writing in that journal with a little turtle drawn on the front.

One night, when he's just turned eight, Baron Draxum leaves in a hurry. He's gone for hours, leaving Red to his own devices and wondering if maybe the yokai had finally got bored of him, wondering if he just left him behind because he couldn't satisfy him. Red tries not to listen to the little voice in his head that says maybe that's a good thing, maybe it's better if he stays gone.

Red doesn't see him until the next day, well into the night, and suddenly, he regrets ever thinking those nasty things of his guardian. The yokai is hunched by the door, missing an arm and looking very tired. Red runs to him, but the Baron doesn't even acknowledge him, holding a towel to his stump.

Red is crying. He knows he shouldn't, knows that tears mean weakness, but he's afraid for his boss, afraid of what is happening, because that's a lot of blood. He feels something well up in his chest as he sits next to his guardian, the feeling swelling into his lungs and arms, weaving through his bones and into his fingers, bright, blue light zapping over his fingers. Something guides his hand, pressing them against the yokai's injury and forcing the light into him.

He heals Baron Draxum.

Baron Draxum looks at him like he's solved the world's problems.

Age 9-10:

Test after test after test. Red is sure he's never been through so many tests, but he finally sees the Baron's pride and he wants to impress him, so he doesn't complain when the needle digs too far, or when the scalpel scrapes a little to much skin. This new power is good, that's all he knows. Baron Draxum calls it mystic energy, says that it was a power he was seeking all along, so Red doesn't complain when all of the test make him tired enough to pass out, or make him cry himself to sleep because his chest aches from how long he had to work. Baron Draxum is proud, proud enough to give him a portal sword and teach him how to use it, proud enough to hand him a pair of tonfa and guide him through the motions of building a shield, proud enough to smile when Red uses the kusari-fundo for the first time.

Red trains his new skill until he's sick, until he can't stand, until he can't feel the first time Baron Draxum uses that strange, green liquid on him.

Baron Draxum was proud.

Age 11-13:

Red is pretty sure his name isn't Red any more. It's Vermin. At least, that's what the Baron has started to call him.

Ever since he stopped being able to use mystic energy without fainting, Baron Draxum has stopped using that old name. Now he was a pest, a creature incapable of healing, or portaling, or simply making things float. He is weak.

Baron did something while he was sedated; took apart his plastron and looked around inside. Vermin thinks he was looking for what was so wrong with him, why everything the slider does ends up in failure. He now has a shiny new plate of metal on his chest and a paranoia of falling asleep.

He lost count the amount of times he was put to sleep, but every time he woke to something different, and injection of mutagen transforming his body while he was so out of it he couldn't even open his eyes. His toes and fingers become more flexible, grow sharp talons attributed to some sort of owl. His tongue becomes forked, able to scent things by merely breathing. His hearing and eyesight become sharper, a fox's DNA granting him night vision. He becomes stronger, faster, more agile, but it's never enough.

Vermin's starting to think that it never was going to be enough.

Vermin is awake when Baran Draxum puts in the ports, ignoring how painful it is and preferring to strap Vermin to a table while he digs into the slider's neck and arms, leaving six, shiny new devices embedded in his skin. The Baron has Vermin carry around a canister of green liquid on his back, a 'empyrean variant' he said, and with a click of a button, the canister sprouts tubes that dig into his ports, releasing the substance into his bloodstream. It hurts, floods his system with fire, but Vermin was used to pain. Now he just has a few more scars to show for it.

The substance grants him more power, more strength, more speed. His senses, already sharp, become that much more, overwhelming his sensory intake, but he learns how to fight past the side-effects. Missions outside of the lab become easier, training obstacles the Baron create become simple to dispatch, he always hurts but there is no other option.

It's always been the Baron and him, but maybe... maybe it doesn't have to be.

He's tired of hurting, tired to running himself to the ground, tired of covert missions that paint Baron Draxum as the ultimate threat when he's doing all the work, tired to sneaking around New York City in a futile attempt of gathering information that will likely never be useful. He tired of being compared to the experiments that didn't live through the first test, he tired of living up to a trio of dead beings that weren't even strong enough to compete with him. He tired to the punishments, of the bruises, of the empty room, of the nightmares, of the expectations.

He's just tired.

On the morning of his fourteenth year, Vermin comes to the conclusion that Baron Draxum isn't the be-all-end-all, that his ideals do not have to be his own. It fills him with a giddiness that leaves him trembling, his heart pounding.

In the middle of his fourteenth year, Vermin leaves.

Age 14:

The first person Vermin officially meets a human named April O'Neil.

Age 16:

...Vermin is starting to think his name was meant to be Leonardo all along.

[mylonelylittlestar]

My little star

Characters: Xavier Summary: random relationship headcanons with Xavier Warnings: None A/N: I've completely fallen in love with Love and Deepspace, especially with Xavier. It's truly hopeless

the type of boyfriend to get you matching pyjamas

he gets you so many that they slowly start to replace all of your own

likes to match with you even if you don't live together, so sometimes he just texts you to ask which pyjamas you're wearing so he can change into the matching one after he showered

if you ever gift him slippers, blankets, or pillows, he will keep them forever (even if it's something goofy like those big fluffy bunny slippers)

the best person to ask for good midnight snacks. He can recommend fantastic instant noodles, chips, crackers, or other snacks that are light and won't give you stomach aches late at night or negatively impact your sleep in any other way

very interested in your skincare routine (if you have one) and will try out any mask or cream that you give him

if you come up with a routine for him (a simple one, maybe, like the basic cleanser > toner > moisturizer), he will follow it diligently, dragging himself out of bed before he sleeps every day to do it because you were the one to pick those products for him and he doesn't want to waste that

he feels like it connects you to him, even if your routine is completely different and a bit more complicated

never cries during movies, no matter how sad they might be, but he does (on very rare occasions) get a bit teary-eyed

he will hold you if you cry during a movie, and he would never even think about making fun of you for it

he does secretly think that it's cute that you get so worked up about a movie

can sleep through anything. a bomb could go off in his house and he wouldn't know that it happened until he woke up

has seen every single episode of any shitty sitcom you can think of at least three times because he occasionally watches them while he sleeps

sometimes he quotes them but because he knows each of these shows so well now he always quotes the lesser known scenes and no one gets what he's talking about

you start to understand his references after a while, so sometimes he will quote some obscure scene from a super unpopular sitcom that got cancelled after one season and you're the only one laughing

secretly sneaks to the arcade sometimes to practice the claw machine game because he wants to get you the plushies you don't have yet (and to impress you)

he ends up getting dozens of repeats of plushies that you already own. he collects in a small storage room in his apartment that used to be empty

he ends up giving them away when the collection gets out of control, donating them to a children's hospital nearby

gets all shy when you find out about it, blushing bright red like a tomato (or a wasabi octopus)

knows about every single 24 hour store in the city because of his odd sleeping habits and always knows what to do no matter what time it is

you can't sleep and want to go on a date at 3:27 am? he knows a place

if someone is mean to you he will try his hardest to deescalate the situation, but he's also fully willing to fight the person if that doesn't work

I mean have you read his Anecdotes 2? He doesn't give a fuck. He'd prefer not to fight, sure, but if it's unavoidable? What is he gonna do? Not fight and defend you? Ridiculous.

The fandom has already started turning him into this soft uwu stereotype, but the thing is that that's... just not him? He's sweet and kind, yes, but that's not all he is. He's complicated! He has layers!

if he ever falls asleep during a date he would feel awful about it for days, even if you reassure him that it's fine and that you're glad that he feels safe enough around you to fall asleep

he tries to make it up to you with a different date and he falls asleep again, which starts a vicious, endless cycle

when he finally does get over his guilt it's only because you fall asleep during a date after you had a long day at work

knows when you cheat in kitty cards, but sometimes he just lets you get away with it, especially if he knows you had a stressful day at work. He hopes that the win will cheer you up

his good night kisses are forehead kisses while his good morning kisses are on top of your head if you didn't sleep over or on the cheek if you did

[writers-advocate]

sfw alphabet | l.h.

description: just some sfw headcanons for logan ♡ [requested]

cw: maybe a little angst

affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

three words: acts of service. he loves doing things for you. he especially loves being able to do things for you without you having to ask. physical touch is another big thing, that takes some getting to for sure, but when you get him there, he’ll make you feel so so loved. especially any part of you you’re insecure about

best friend (what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start)

best friend? baby, he set his sights on you and immediately knew he wanted to be more than friends. that aside, once you’re together, once you’ve “worked your magic” on him as he says, he is absolutely your best friend. shoulder to cry on, moral support, someone to listen to all the chisme from the day. he’s always there for you, even if he may seem a bit aloof

cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

he loves cuddles once you get past his fear of hurting you. it’s a struggle, it takes some patience, but when he eventually grows more comfortable, he loves when you’re both on your sides, the feeling of you curled into his chest, his arms secure around you. any position where he pretty much envelopes you, he loves

domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

sigh… he doesn’t think he’ll get the chance. but yes. yes he so badly wants to settle down once he meets you. he can’t stand when he has to be away from you for so long. he just wants to make your coffee in the morning while you pack his lunch and you take each other to work. if you even have to work

i think, at first, he doesn’t really know his way around the kitchen. very basic things he’d make on the road if he had to. but eventually, with a little practice, he makes amazing food. and we all know he’s a little messy but he does his fair share. never wants to make you lift a finger if you don’t have to

ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

if you guys are still a work in progress with him opening up, he likely tries to scare you away. he’d never hurt you, you know that, but he knows (read: thinks) he’s scary. sharp words he doesn’t mean in a voice he never uses for you. he knows how to be cruel. he will use it if he feels he has to

if you guys have been together a while, you’ve jumped through many hurdles, he likely begs you to stay away from him because he “knows” he’ll hurt you. that this is for the best, he’s no good for you. (don’t let him throw away the only good thing he’s got in his life)

fiancé (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)

the first time he tries to scare you off and you just hold him instead, that’s the moment he knows you’re the one. the moment he knows he wants a ring on your finger with his name on it. the only way you might possibly get this information out of him (because he doesn’t want to give you false hope) is if he’s beyond black out drunk. or if he’s feeling particularly sappy from being comforted after a nightmare. good luck

gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

90% of the time, he’s the fuckin sweetest. but there’s just, a slight twist to every touch. he kisses you like you’re his whole world, but with an air of desperation that seems like he thinks you’ll disappear at any moment. he hugs you like you’re his most precious belonging, but every comfort item ends up a little worn (read: he squeezes pretty tight)

emotionally, he might be a little oblivious, but that doesn’t mean he can’t understand. you just need to be willing to communicate with him. even if he struggles to do the same with you

hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it and what is it like?)

refer to the above. he loves hugs. he gives the best bear hugs, enveloping you in those strong arms and squeezing you to his broad chest. as for how often? as often as you need/want. to use a cliche, he’s a walking teddy bear, and he doesn’t mind you treating him like one

i love you (how fast do they say the L-word?)

he never says it. it takes so so long for you to hear those three words from him… but it is in the little things. the little touches. the little squeezes. the protective, nearly possessive behavior. he loves you. you know he does. you just need to be willing to see it rather than hear it for a while

jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they get jealous?)

baby, i think this one’s better left for the other alphabet. all jokes aside, logan’s a sweetie. we know he is despite trying to come off as otherwise. but we also know he can be a bit… primal. you’re his. his territory. his pretty little thing. what does an animal usually do to show it? mark it. marks, all over the fuckin place

on the flip side, sometimes he might get a little self conscious. in his head, you deserve better. he’ll try to pull away, but if you pull him in and kiss him in front of whoever might’ve set this off, he eases up, losing himself in you instead

kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?)

he will kiss you all over. he’s soft about it if he’s kissing your cheek, your forehead, your temple. he’s a tease when his lips brush along your jaw, your throat, your collarbone. but when he’s kissing you, properly, especially if he’s been away from you for too long, he kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll ever have the chance, leaving you breathless

bonus: morning kisses are always super soft, when you’re both still wrapped in the haze of sleep

look he loves kisses from you anywhere, but what he’ll never admit is that he feels like he might melt when you kiss his knuckles. they’re a source of pain, always have been, and he used to think they always would be. but the soft feel of your lips on the sensitive skin is like nothing else

little ones (how are they around children?)

he’s great with kids! he’s a little better with the younger ones than you’d think. it’s the innocence, the kindness. something he wants to protect more than anything. but as we’ve seen with rogue, and eventually with laura, he’s a lot better with the teens too than he thinks. they know they can come to him if they’re ever in need

morning (how are mornings spent with them?)

after a bad night, you don’t let him do anything for the first hour or so of daylight. he’s learned not to argue with you when you bring him breakfast, and why would he when you sit behind him, chest flush to his back while he eats?

if it’s been a good night, an easy night, he’ll still wake up before you (usually) but he finds you tucked into his side, one leg over his and your hand over his heart. he wishes every morning could be like this as he takes your hand and brings it up to kiss your fingers

night (how are nights spent with them?)

expect many nightmares. at least for a while. sometimes he just needs to get up and do something. keep him company. sometimes (further into the relationship) he’ll talk through the memories. just listen. and sometimes he’ll be the one laying on your chest. just hold him. just let him hear your voice, let him listen to your beating heart, and let him know you will always be here

the more fun nights, well, we’ll leave that for the other alphabet. but he does enjoy a good beer or glass of whiskey, sat in front of the tv with you happily draped across his thighs, free hand squeezing at your hip, your thigh, absentmindedly, as you whine about being sleepy

open (when will they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or do they reveal little things slowly?)

if we’re talking likes, dislikes, habits, and hobbies, he won’t hide any of that. he might even invite you along to certain things, or at least to keep him company

if we’re talking something deeper, he wants to tell you everything as soon as the first thing slips. he simply can’t. it’s too overwhelming. both for him and (he thinks) for you. some things he simply might never tell you, but trust that if it’s important, you’ll know it. eventually

patience (how easily are they angered?)

he’s got a temper on him. sue me but i’m a firm believer in the “you’re the best bet to calm him down” trope. he’ll try to push you away but it’s easy to tell when he’s calm enough to actually hear you out, and when he needs a little more time, and maybe your touch. even if you’re the one he snaps at, it’s safe to assume something else was already setting him off, you just happen to be in the line of fire. trust that he’ll always make it up to you, one way or another

quizzes (how much would they remember about you? do they remember every detail or forget the minor things?)

everything. he will remember everything. his memory may always be fragmented but you? he will remember that thing you looked at a little too long at the shops. he knows what dish to ask for on your behalf if you’re out for dinner, what to add to or remove from it. miraculously, the fridge and the pantry always have your favorites in stock. fresh flowers of your favorite kind never seem to wilt on your dresser

remember (what is their favorite moment of your relationship?)

the very first time you fell asleep on him. he doesn’t know how to explain it, so i will. something within him was so touched that you trusted him like that. it likely stemmed from his own struggles with sleep. not only that but you looked absolutely adorable. he’s still got the single picture he took of you that night tucked in his wallet. you don’t know about it

security (how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)

incredibly protective. it doesn’t matter if he knows you can handle yourself. in his opinion, you shouldn’t have to. he won’t take any chances on losing you, anything but you

he doesn’t need protection, according to him. but if you stand up for him, defend him, maybe get a little fiery? he can’t deny that it sends warmth through his chest, and makes him want to take you home and show you just how much he appreciates you

try (how much effort do they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts)

he will act like it’s no big deal but he always, always manages to get it all just right. he doesn’t go overboard with gifts or dates. he knows just what you like and he’s not gonna go fucking it up because he wants to impress you. he knows you’ll appreciate his attention to detail more anyway. like i said before, his memory when it comes to you is absolutely infallible

ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

sounding like a broken record here but trying to protect you from himself. pushing you away any way he can, though cruel words will dissipate the further into the relationship you get, and closed off silence will replace it instead until you coax him back to you. back to comfort. back to safety

vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

he knows he looks damn good and the worst part is that he barely has to do anything to achieve it. his stupid hairstyle (firmly believe those are just cowlicks) and fashion sense just, work. it doesn’t hurt if you wanna compliment him though. he’ll preen under your shower of affection and praise

whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

yes. god… don’t break him like everyone else. please

xtra (a random headcanon for them)

if you guys couldn’t tell, i have a thing for his heightened sense of smell. you asked him once what his favorite scent was and he told you something so specific, you bought several candles in an effort to match what he described. little do you know he was describing you. you are his favorite, and all the synthetic oils and waxes in the world could never come close

yuck (what are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?)

we’ll go with something pretty straightforward here. if you’ve got a stupid self sacrificial streak, he will lose his mind. you can’t be scaring him like that. it’s one of the few things that will genuinely set him off on you specifically, because it’s one of the few things that truly terrify him

Zzz (what are some sleeping habits of theirs?)

for a while he had the habit of moving away from you in his sleep. the problem was (neither of you knew this of course) that it made his nightmares worse. it’s understandable why he did it, especially after the incident with rogue, but you trust him, and eventually he’d finally be able to bring himself to trust that he could hold you. when he’s finally able to sleep with you in his arms, his hands have the habit of wandering… take that as you will

[directdogman]

Dogman, how do you write SO WELL!?!? I love all your characters and I need to know what/where you find inspo from...

Ha. Every writer is just someone who apes the creative processes of their inspirations. For video game writing specifically, there's two answers for me.

Toby Fox is always gonna be a huge inspiration for me. I've written plots and characters before and had to abandon ideas after realizing I'd accidentally written part of UT again. Even some of the ideas I used were undeniably inspired by UT in a subconscious way and ofc, I included several explicit references to UT in my last series. Toby's a very clever guy who likely pays very close attention to the art he consumes and tries to figure out how to maximize how much his work connects with his audience. Whatever his process is, it works.

The other answer is a lil funnier: Scott Cawthon, but specifically the legend, not the man. For context: Back in the earlier days of the FNaF fandom, people had a hyper-inflated view of Scott Cawthon's writing skills that largely came from how little of a presence he had back in those days. In the vacuum of Scott actually explaining his own process in detail, people got caught up in his genuinely creative way of hiding exposition in his games using cryptid and (then) unexpected methods, and a narrative formed (one that he's since refuted.)

While he never implied it tmk, fans broadly believed that he constructed these sweeping and complex narratives with tons of cohesive moving parts, with the games essentially acting like the mere tip of his lore iceberg. People even thought he wrote so much that he had whole games worth of lore outlined from the beginning! In the first Dawko interview he gave, he clarified that this wasn't the case and explained roughly what his process was (basically just outlining rough theme ideas + aesthetics for future titles.)

However, that legend made younger-me's mind run wild and any time I wrote a story, it became very difficult for me to not keep writing down ideas while completing the grunt work that followed me finishing my scripts. When I finished DSaF 1, I already had DSaF 2's draft written and by the time 2 was done, I had enough lore for a 3rd game on paper (and a lot more stuff that I didn't use.) By the time three was out, I had pages upon pages of unused concepts/story ideas and more or less just had to decide to call it quits or else I'd be pumping out entries forever!

That's why if you go back to those older games, there's references that directly refer to future plot-points in pretty casual/easy to miss ways. (Like Henry's mention in DSaF 1, Dave being heartless in DSaF 2, Jack being soulless in 1, and even Blackjack being Jack's soul in 2. Most of 3's major plotpoints are implied somewhere in 2 and some of 2's in 1.)

DT is much the same. By the time I finished writing it, I had fairly detailed drafts for arcs for each of the characters, some early material ended up getting completely recontextualized (and even modified in small ways to not conflict with the wider ideas I came up with.)

I get really into writing my stories/characters and I always wonder exactly how things ended up where they are, what characters think about but don't say, etc etc. This is why I have an obscene amount of Crown lore that I have very little to do with rn (since he impacted the whole world so deeply.)

This extra stuff also includes plenty of sequel material ideas, though I didn't think I'd even get a chance to use them since DT performed pretty meagerly before the big release and I was expecting to have to move onto something new. Though it turned out that Scott didn't actually write his games this way (by his own admission), it's the correct answer for what my core writing inspiration for writing game narratives is.

Hope this helps!

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

There's definitely a conversation to be had about the presentation of real historical figures in historical fiction, I think. As both a professional historian (PhD student 🤘🏾😔) and a man of color, I'm a bit more sensitive to this than a lot of people, and for me it always comes down to the question - what real harm is being done here?

And that's where I think OFMD does well enough for me to be comfortable. If you look at the fact that the show is based on real-life terrible people who did awful things and participated in the slave trade and you don't wanna fuck with the show, that's completely understandable, but I find it so much more palatable than (for the easy comparison) a piece of media like Black Sails (I actually like Black Sails, believe it or not, but there are a lot of things about how it treats many of these same figures that make me uncomfortable).

Now, yes, OFMD is hand-wavey with the slave trade in the Caribbean. None of our main characters own slaves or directly reference the slave trade (again, this is a romcom, I'd be shocked if they did). For me, this works alright for two big reasons. First, there are things that I think you can include in a romcom and have it still be a romcom, and a thoughtful, respectful depiction of the slave trade would take the show firmly out of romcom territory. Second, the show doesn't pretend racism doesn't exist, it treats its characters of color as three-dimensional people, and we always get the last laugh when racism is depicted. The very first episode sets the scene by having racist English Navy officers demean and call a Black character "slave" and they immediately get their asses kicked for it. Compare this to a show like Black Sails, where one of my main criticisms is how we're expected to sympathize with characters who actively participate in the slave trade and own slaves.

My other thing here is the people OFMD is working with are both heavily mythologized and not treated with any degree of historical accuracy. Many of our characters who are famous pirate names you might know are nothing like their real-world counterparts (take pirate queen Zheng Yi Sao, who wasn't even born yet when the show takes place). We know so little about any of the real people, anyway, that OFMD doesn't even bother trying to get anything right.

Like I said, I'm a professional historian and I love working with the golden age of piracy. That's a big reason I was drawn to this show in the first place! And if there's one thing I know, it's that pirates have been made into legends. We know very little about the real people, and in pop culture they're just myths.

The characters in OFMD are basically fictional characters working with the loose mythology based around the real people.

Now, back to my big thesis here: are the real, awful people benefitting in any way from OFMD taking these characters and making them into the good guys? Realistically, no, I'd argue. Most people with any critical thinking skills know that real pirates were not good people. Many people think Blackbeard is a made-up generic pirate character as it is. I've been to the real-life Stede Bonnet's grave site (NOT for the show, this was years before it aired and I was visiting the archives there to see the trial documents for a research project), and the historic marker there says he was "brought to justice." No one is wataching this show and thinking "oh those real guys must have been pretty great dudes!" because it's not about those real people.

This show isn't trying to change your perception of the real people, it's showing you fictional characters with the same names. One of our characters is runnig around in crocs, this show isn't trying to teach you about history or the real people and it's obvious.

If you're put off by the premise, I get it! But I just don't buy the idea that OFMD is putting anything harmful into the world just by existing.

[llilyrose]

llilyrose spends her time analyzing aroace stuff. yay.

isat spoilers afoot

what i especially like about the way adrienne wrote mira's orientation is the lack of room for interpretation. yes they snuck aroace talk into fantasy france, but just stop and think for a minute. what would happen if mira just said "i'm aroace" or "i don't feel love the same way" instead of all the nuance we got to her character in the friend quest convo?

we know she's sex repulsed, we know she's romance repulsed. we know she loves fiction that has those things in it, loves interpreting fictional characters that way, but can't bare to see herself in that situation. it makes a lot of sense with regards to her location (vaugarde, a very sex-positive and romance-adamant country) and also with regards to herself (the way she feels about her environment). Of course she wouldn't blame other folk around her for engaging with their religion the "correct" way, of course she'd internalize all her feelings of being outcast and turn it back on herself.

The fandom respects this! Nobody ships her romantically, or sexually, because we know she's not into that. We know she would never and i know a bunch of people who would punch you for even thinking it!

Now what if Adrienne hadn't put this in the game? What if they had just said on their tumblr one day, "mira's aroace," or something. where would we be now? aspec shipping discourse would definitely take the reins. we'd have people shipping her in all kinds of different ways, bending the aroace character to the best of their ability because they could still be into sex, or romance, or whatever. this is TRUE, it's POSSIBLE, but there's no nuance. We wouldn't know the way Mira really feels about these things unless Adrienne told us, so a lot of people would either ignore/"work around" her identity or just wouldn't even know about it to begin with!

Introducing mira's orientation in the way adrienne did leaves no room for discourse. we know if she's sex-positive, sex-negative, how she reacted to finding out she was, etc. It provides so much more representation than a simple "I'm aroace" ever could. It's such a wide label, so finally having CONCRETE information about a canonical aroace's experiences with their orientation is so, so freeing and honestly quite refreshing. and it's worked into the story seamlessly!!!

She's not an emotionless carcass with no capacity for love, she's not outwardly detesting sex or romance at every possible moment, she's simply a well-rounded character who happens to be aroace. You have time to warm up to her before ever even finding out about her orientation! Or having any clue at all (barring maybe the suspicious sketches)!!!!! Aroace people are real!!! We're so real!!!!

Speaking of the suspicious sketches! We know siffrin's alloace (from, like, one line of dialogue), but we don't know if he's sex-repulsed. Adrienne's gone on record to say "aces can still have sex" in reference to siffrin, so I'm inclined to believe he has at least some sort of libido.

When looking at the sketches, both him and mira have a repulsed reaction. I think there are three possible reasons for Siffrin here!

Siffrin is sex-repulsed and has a visceral reaction to them because he thinks it's gross.

Siffrin has no libido because the stress overrides everything in his system. That combined with his ace identity would probably lead to a distaste for the papers.

Some people would NOT GET THE MEMO from the act 3 friendquest. Sometimes when you're writing you have to account for the gamers being really really dense. Some people didn't even understand the Isa friendquest was him coming out as trans basically. Since Ace characters are hard to "prove" unless they explicitly state they dislike sex, this line of dialogue might've just been there to drill it in that Siffrin is ace because the only other place we see that implication is one line in the friendquest. It could even have no tie to his relationship with sex, who knows?

one of these options is not like the others! /silly

I couldn't tell you which one of those it is, but i think at least one of them had to have hit the mark. It's a lot harder to decode siffrin's sexuality when we only get like 5 lines of dialogue total that vaguely even reference it

With this we come back to the issue from earlier: He could be demi, he could be ace, he could be sex-repulsed, he could not! Most people write them sex-repulsed and I'm personally on that bandwagon, but interpreting them a different way isn't any less correct unless you completely ignore the fact they're ace in the first place.

Even sex-positive aces have complicated relationships with sex. Some do it for the gratification, some simply have higher libido and can't think of a different way to get it out, and others only do it to please their partner.

I think writing an ace character as sex-positive should be seen as a character study instead of an excuse to ship two characters together. Is this character the type to even enjoy it in the first place? How often? How do they interact with it? Etc. Which I think is what Adrienne was talking about when she said "aces can still have sex." We don't know about siffrin's identity, we don't have a grasp on the nuance, but we do know he's ace and that he experiences love differently from the way mirabelle does, and the way isabeau does, and the way odile does, and what have you.

I love love love the representation we get in isat. An aroace, an alloace, and someone that a lot of fans headcanon as aroallo though it's unconfirmed. Even if Odile's not aro, we still get that line of dialogue about not finding romance suitable for her at the moment, which speaks true to a different experience altogether. No two characters experience love, experience life the same in isat. That's why i get to make a tumblr text post that's a bit too long exploring the different avenues adrienne took when writing the characters lol :')

[annoyinglandmagazine]

So I did Classical Studies in secondary school which was a fairly obscure subject, there were only nine of us in the class and we were all super into it.

Just for context here I’m talking about the class I was in from first to third year, between the ages of 13 and 16 for people with different education systems. We read the Iliad as part of course and it was really dense and when I tell you none of us could hear the word simile today without flashbacks to notating pages after pages of Homer comparing the way people walked to lions……

Anyway, it was a nightmare to read but we loved it.

We came out of those three years having forgotten most of the history of the Roman Empire but we all knew that Paris was a little bitch good for nothing but his looks, Achilles and Patroclus were definitely gay, Achilles was also a little bitch but we love him for it, Hector and Andromache deserved better and, most importantly, Agamemnon was a complete and utter douchebag who deserved everything he got and Clytemnestra was absolutely right to stab him to death in a bathtub, seriously fuck that guy.

We were so invested in this subject that we finished the curriculum early two years in a row and each year our teacher decided that we could put on a play related to the subject to fill out the last two months or so.

Naturally we settled on Troy Story 1 and Troy Story 2 detailing the Birth of Paris through to Achilles returning Hector’s body to Priam in two 40 minute instalments.

Absolutely no one of the forty people who wandered in by accident to witness our work of art understood a single second of what was going on or why we were all restrained laughter at what was basically eighty minutes of obscure classics in jokes. It was glorious. I recently found the script and I wanted to share the chaos.

Highlights included:

Jesse’s Girl playing over Helen and Paris’ introduction while she’s married to Menelaus.

So much unnecessary use of the word bro. Just so much.

Zeus and Hera narrating while passive aggressively bickering for every second of it. The gods constantly saying ‘do you want to get involved in some human drama’ to rope each other in

The extreme dramatic build up to the use of the word dog

Agamemnon speaks like a frat boy the whole time, like the biggest douche ever.

Achilles lifting Hectors body and dragging it around in slo mo while we are the champions plays

Achilles watching the war from his blanket burrito while eating popcorn out of his helmet

The shepherd who found Paris on a mountainside holding him up while the Lion King music played over it

Achilles’ trashy blonde wig. I cannot stress enough how trashy and blonde this wig was. Also Achilles was deliberately cast as the shortest girl in the class (5’ 3).

Odysseus and Diomedes night mission had mission impossible music playing over it as we parkoured across the stage and peaked out behind curtains. They also have dialogue in which they constantly want to stab something

Paris never appears in the sequel but is dissed constantly

We couldn’t do any actual Patrochilles cause Catholic school but we settled for prolonged eye contact to My Heart Will Go On and long pauses after dramatic references to My Closest Companion

Achilles: I need my best bro friend! My life soulmate! My favourite cook!

Achilles in the tent with headphones on listening to All By Myself with mascara streaming down his face after Patroclus died

The facts that Agamemnon killed his daughter and Zeus and Hera are siblings is constantly just kind of dropped in with no context

Everyone’s costumes were mostly just lab coats tied over our shoulders with shared armour from the one girl that apparently had a closet full of Ancient Greek style plastic swords, helmets and breastplates.

We spent an entire class making a giant pink tv frame out of cardboard, paper and way too much sellotape for one joke that wasn’t even that funny. We named it Daniel.

Briseis was an American Girl doll.

The gods yelling at each other to try and pick teams and resulting in a slap fight with an announcement that it lasted 3 hours.

Thetis yelling encouragement from the side lines and calling Achilles her little crib lizard for some reason also she’s reading Song of Achilles in one of her scenes

[see-arcane]

Be for real, Jonathan/Mina are not 5% as fucked up as Mina with any other characters they put her up with like Dracula, Quatermain, Hyde, etc. Jonathan is human and perfectly good and nice guy, it pretty much ends all possibilities for twisted gothic relationships exploration. Cause people who pair Mina up with all those different male characters do it to explore forbidden or dark or twisted relationships. You can’t do it with Jonathan-there’s nothing twisted or forbidden there.

Hey friend, not sure if this is in earnest or diet trolling, but I'm going to try and lean towards assuming the former.

The three guys you mentioned are just Alan Moore in very thin masks.

Dracula is basically every director and writer's body pillow who they think should Get All the Ladies~ for voluptuous empowerment reasons (ignore the castle harem), but with Quatermain and Hyde specifically in your roster, I've got to assume you're referring to TLoEG Moore-Dracula and company. I won't waste our time going into all the reasons I hate this comic series for what it did to every single classic lit character unlucky enough to show up in it, let alone the especially disgusting treatment Mina gets. There is no version of this where I give that thing a fair chance.

So let's get straight to your point:

Jonathan is human and perfectly good and nice guy, it pretty much ends all possibilities for twisted gothic relationships exploration.

people who pair Mina up with all those different male characters do it to explore forbidden or dark or twisted relationships. You can’t do it with Jonathan-there’s nothing twisted or forbidden there.

I don't know if you've read the book or not. Maybe this is your first year Dracula Dailying, maybe you've already gone through the novel and just didn't hit the brakes like most of us did over certain ominous tell-tale points to examine the implications under some very concerning text. Either way, the novel is objective proof that you're wrong.

As is every adaptation and spinoff to ever come after its publication that 1) Turns Dracula or whoever else into Mina's only possible gothic romantic option and inevitably includes 2) Somehow removing Jonathan Harker from the board due to being played with all the feeling of a broom, getting killed, divorced, or afflicted with sudden-onset-shitty-bastard syndrome.

The thing is, your take on Jonathan--the very human heartwarming do-no-wrong sweetheart--is absolutely right...up until October 3rd. And then allll the way up to the climax in November. Because within that span of time, Jonathan Harker:

(DRACULA SPOILERS EN ROUTE)

Has a literal physical transformation in front of the entire group as Mina describes Dracula's assault. No metaphors here. His hair goes white. His eyes burn. He looks like a corpse. His hands turn cold. By the time of the climax, we find out that he now has a Glare on par with Dracula's basilisk gaze which sends enemies running upon eye contact. This is followed by a surprise dose of super strength ala his hoisting a box that took multiple men to carry even while empty, but now is full of soil and Dracula himself. He hefts it over his head and chucks it. Like nothing. Stoker never says exactly what Jonathan's deal is, but whatever it is by the book's end, It Is Not All Human.

2. Almost guts Dracula in his own house. He lizard fashioned himself out a window specifically to chase after Dracula in order to slaughter him in the middle of a crowded street and was only stopped from doing so because the Count escaped out of range.

3. Has the same determination at the prospect of needing to attack ordinary strangers if they obstruct their pursuit of Dracula. He says he's prepared to hang if need be. Meaning he's prepared to be caught and convicted of murder if it comes down to it.

4. Makes a secret oath. One that neither Mina or the heroes get to know. Namely, that if Mina winds up a vampire, he will not destroy or abandon her, but join her in her new state rather than forsake her. Mina as a human? Mina as a vampire? Mina in any form however saintly or monstrous? Still Mina to him. All other considerations are secondary to keeping with Mina and keeping Mina safe. He is prepared to prey on humanity for and with her if that's what it takes.

5. Keeps that oath secret and refuses to join the others in swearing to slay Mina if she rises as a vampire. Full stop. "It's the right thing to do! They did it for Lucy!" Jonathan Harker could not give less of a fuck. He's sitting there sharpening his kukri, now quietly reconciling with the notion that if Dracula is not put down, he may wind up turning the knife on his allies. Something we don't see in text, but the reader gets to connect the dots on. His silence itself is dangerous.

6. When he is finally forced to part ways with Mina for the sake of the hunt, he leaves her with her own gun. To use as she needs. Keeping in mind that, even if it were loaded with blessed bullets, we never once see a gun be successful in putting down a vampire. Throughout the book, the undead are only ended by beheading and staking. The gun is therefore not meant to save her from a vampire. She is heading off with Van Helsing for company, the guy who led the 'Behead and Impale the Bloofer Lady' party. As an ally, of course. Just as he was Lucy's ally. Once. (This weapon is yours, my love. Use it when you need it. On whoever it must be used on.)

But the most telling thing comes well before all of this. Even before he first swings his kukri at Dracula. One single line:

“I care for nothing now,” he answered hotly, “except to wipe out this brute from the face of creation. I would sell my soul to do it!”

This? This shit that Francis Ford Coppola flat-out stole from Mr. Harker and duct-taped to Oldman Sexyman Dracula for his erotic fanfiction? This is important. Because out of all the characters in the cast, Jonathan Harker knows the danger of the vampires very, very, very up close and personally after two months of psychological torture and exposure to unavoidable proof that demons are real, that they walk the Earth, and that the Powers that make them possible must also be real and gloating in actual factual Hell.

Meaning that Jonathan knew exactly how potent such a promise was. He was not joking. He was not making a hyperbolic gesture. He fucking meant it. Van Helsing, fresh from his library book binge on the subject and therefore rightly panicked, lays out the danger himself:

“Oh, hush, hush, my child!” said Van Helsing. “God does not purchase souls in this wise; and the Devil, though he may purchase, does not keep faith. But God is merciful and just, and knows your pain and your devotion to that dear Madam Mina. Think you, how her pain would be doubled, did she but hear your wild words..."

Jonathan spent his summer in a territory covered in crosses and vampire wards and dutiful prayer, buddy. He knows God is good enough to sting, but not enough to stop the undead fucker from preying on a full pious mountain range's worth of people like his personal feeding trough for 400+ years unhindered. If Jonathan needs the Devil on his side to end him, so be it. If he has to sign on with the undead fucker because Mina went full vampire and the only alternative is letting her be slain, so be that too.

Van Helsing, the suitors, the whole of the human population, his own humanity, even Mina's own martyr-plea for destruction rather than inflicting herself on the world, being kept under Dracula's thrall and luring Jonathan back into the same torment--None of That Matters to Him.

Jonathan Harker's only priority is Mina. Period. Over God, over humankind, over friends and foes and sanity. Mina's existence trumps them all in his mind. And if she were to stop existing, he would fall on his kukri as readily as he once risked death on the cliff or to the waiting wolves.

The end of Dracula allows him and Mina a happy ending. Stoker is a softie in the end and these characters who represent so much of a queer author's hopes--(My partner loves me unto blasphemy. Even if I am wrong, unclean, unfit in the world's eyes, this person loves me so dearly and madly that they will go to unthinkable extremes to protect me, no matter what.)--were due for a well-earned bliss. But he also makes it very clear all the way up to that point that the story could have gone wrong. Horrendously.

And in the hundred unwritten versions of the tale where Dracula got away, where Mina turned, where the good guys were too late? Jonathan Harker would be the sudden shadow at their backs, raising the kukri to strike.

Jonathan Harker cannot be allowed to exist as himself in any of the ~twisted gothic horror romances~ where authors and directors graft Mina into relationships with [INSERT BASTARD], because whether those creators know it or not, they have already fallen short of everything Jonathan Harker is and what he was prepared to do on Mina's behalf in the canon. The young man's immensely Unwell about his wife if you scratch even the thinnest layer of paint off him.

And if Stoker had given him half a reason to prove it, he'd have left a pile of valorous corpses behind in the Transylvanian snow.

tl; dr: Jonathan Harker is both a sweet little guy and a bit fucked up actually. He is not just allowed in the twisted gothic romance potential club, he is the club president. And he's married to the founder.

[yaeggravate]

could capitano be anfortas alberich?

it's more likely than you think 👍🏽✨️

arguments in favor of anfortas = capitano:

capitano's potential constellation could be the three nails which is a reference to jesus' crucifixion. i honestly can't picture this constellation belonging to any other harbinger unless sandrone's ruin guard is carrying some heavy bagage.

anfortas is named after the fisher/sinner king from arthurian legend, he is usually portrayed as a jesus-like figure in more modern adaptations, due to his never-ending suffering. he was also stabbed with the holy spear in the same side as jesus during his crucifixion.

in the poem the waste land by t.s. eliot, he associates the fisher king with the tarot card the three staves. in some tarot decks (most notably thoth which is pictured below), the three staves are positioned exactly like the three nails

anfortas' fate is currently unknown, as he is khaenri'ahn it's not unreasonable to assume he could've survived for 500 years

his relative kaeya was conveniently present when varka's letter about capitano was being read in an event about lost family members

according to varka, capitano hides his face so no one can know his identity and origins. anfortas was part of the schwanenritter which is a reference to the swan knight legend, where the knight had to conceal his identity, name and origins

varka says capitano is an ordinary mortal with the courage to go up against gods which is basically khaenri'ah's motto

capitano's helmet has a makeshift 8-pointed star on it which is usually associated with khaenri'ah (tbf 8-pointed stars can also be found in other places, such as the adventurer's guild, the hexenzirkel and now natlan.)

capitano has blue eyes and so far every khaenri'ahn character we've met has blue-ish eyes with the exception of arlecchino who is descended from the crimson moon clan

anfortas and capitano are both commanders: anfortas was the knight marshal of the schwanenritter (and temporarily became regent of khaenri'ah), capitano is thee captain, the highest ranked harbinger

anfortas' personality is unclear so we can't really compare it to capitano's. BUT what we do know is that he temporarily filled in as regent when irmin was unavailable. he also executed his own comrade after they committed treason by sabotaging a machine yet he still gave them a proper knight's funeral. this could allign with the absolute righteousness and honor capitano is known for

capitano is highly praised and respected within the fatui and the same can be said for anfortas who was close enough to the king that he could petition him and whose subordinates believed in him until the end

An Abandoned Letter... I often think lately about how future generations will tell my story. Will I be a sinner? Or a hero... The situation here is dire, but I believe that our Marshal will find a way. I believe...

the author of this letter wondering if they'll be seen as sinners or heroes and believing anfortas will save them fits pretty well with the three nails constellation, a symbol of salvation and redemption

(there's some interesting irony in anfortas' name meaning infirmity (weakness/illness), which is the opposite of capitano being a strong man. capitano's commedia dell'arte counterpart was a braggart who only boasted about his strength.)

capitano is now in natlan. for some reason, kaeya's hidden strife letters are filled with fire imagery. kaeya's dad says the alberich clan "should lead lives as those who blaze like fire rather than those who wallow in the embers", which is reminiscent of the "secret" the pyro archon shares/will share with the traveler according to the travail trailer: "the rules of war are woven in the womb: the victors shall burn bright, while the losers must turn to ash."

*update: natlan is right next to one of anfortas' ruin golems and in a new world quest we find out there were two khaenri'ahn knights in natlan who were ordered by someone highly respected to stop the abyss from spreading. based on context clues their superior is likely anfortas. perhaps anfortas also ended up in natlan and something happened to him there

**update: the schwanenritter were most likely part of the black serpent knights, khaenri'ah's royal guard, since one of the schwanenritter used the same model as a black serpent windcutter. isn't it convenient then that capitano is dressed as a black serpent with those black scales and visor in the triangular shape of a snake's head?

arguments against the theory:

anfortas lost his left eye, while capitano is said to have dark blue eyes plural. however, it's unclear if anfortas literally lost his left eye or was merely blinded. he could have also grown back the eye cause idk khaenri'ah genes/abyss goo/bald

three harbingers from khaenri'ah seems a bit overkill. (though you could argue we already have three harbingers from snezhnaya: childe, pulcinella and pantalone.) we don't have any harbingers from natlan (or liyue), and currently capitano seems like the most likely option. however, knowing hyv's colorism, it could be columbina instead. according to the harbinger wheel columbina should be arriving after arlecchino, although we haven't seen her in any of the trailers yet. (all hope for brown-skinned capitano is not lost if he's related to kaeya though!)

since anfortas is the "fisher" king and ended up with one eye, he could be kaeya's "pirate" grandpa or even his dad and i'm not too confident hyv is gonna imply capitano had a lover with kids unless he gets signora'd lol. on the other hand, arthurian anfortas was famously saved by his nephew, which could mean our anfortas is kaeya's uncle.

***update: capitano can use nightsoul which is exclusive to people from natlan. however, the traveler can also use phlogiston (though no word on nightsoul yet) and mavuika senses an "unusual presence" inside cap which could explain his powers