#but w/ how unequal it is

[anantaru]

— cuddles after work

including heizou, alhaitham, ayato, scaramouche x gn! reader

genre: fluff, cuddles, sleepy boys

— heizou

the wind outside was cold, the night pressing, and as you had just finished getting ready for bed, you hear the kind, alleviating tune of your boyfriend's voice from across the room.

"come here, come here."

heizou couldn't wait any longer to branch his arms around your frame and cuddle you for what he'd love to be an eternity, it's a given for him, because the moment he steps inside your shared home, he had already decided to act like a little, whimsy baby, for whatever reason, theatrically whining and singing to you, so you'd hurry up in the bathroom and come back to bed.

without pretense, you make him wait on purpose and heizou knows, he always does.

but in the fullness of time, finally, you roll into the puffy, silken bedsheets before sloping into his chest, surrendering in that fleeting moment. "i'm here, i'm here." you giggle, banteringly rolling your eyes at him but by now you can certainly tell that he's at ease, of course when you cuddle him, accept his touches, quite flustered when you kiss him in time.

heizou adds on to his previous words, "i was waiting for hours." and latches his arms around your entire body. he observes himself now, and his heartbeat on the face of it kept a steady rhythm until the touch of you arrives, then its tempo rises into a new genre all together.

but it's pleasant, and kind.

your boyfriends countenance turns slightly more soft, blending hand in hand with his handsome, tired face.

you hope he's not trying to be this cute on purpose, because heizou was surely aware of the great, bristling weaknesses he'd inflict on you whenever he did it.

interesting, how fast time flew now, with the entire room being pitch black, and you swing one leg over his body before using his chest as your own, personal pillow for your head, "i'm here now."

heizou sighs against your ear when you say it, keeping his eyes closed, "yes, finally." and his slender hands, careful as always, touch you with such matchless, unequaled lightness, rolling down your sides and ultimately settling on your hips.

— alhaitham

alhaitham's eyes close at the leisure, watchful strokes of your hand gyrating over his scalp, with his head cushily drowsing on your lap— his breathing slowed, from his chest coming the first guttural snore.

he sighs, sputtering and struggling to find the right words, "this, this is good." and you touch his face repeatedly, whether it was neatly squeezing his cheeks or patting his head, in the present moment— alhaitham felt like he truly arrived home, something that wasn't a daily occurrence for him.

"we should get ready for bed soon." you attempt to reason with the man, but only get greeted with a half enthusiastic groan, rumbling from his chest, as if he was trying to voicelessly tell you that no, in fact, he was quite comfortable now and wanted to remain this way— quick to note that he'd absolutely love to read a book while resting on your lap like that, if only his eyes weren't so damn heavy right now.

he blames his work, the night, maybe the heavy food he consumed earlier as well.

moreover, he pulls his arms around your body, breath holding, so he could briefly slump you into him and share your rising body heat with each bother.

none of you speaks at first, it's not necessary and in the face of the night approaching, your frames had gradually gotten more fatigued and tired— but you are also content with each other, exchanging everlasting glances, the lightest of touches that melt on your warm prickling skin, lovely jokes and closeness, no more was needed.

you are the match for the scribe, you are his flame. that's love he never experienced before, like a blessing and challenge all in one.

for alhaitham, you're it, you're all.

— ayato

"I certainly could get used to this."

from the warm tones of ayato's cologne, to those of his soothing voice and well chosen words, he truly was easy to listen to— in addition to being unbelievably cozy while you closed your arms around his chest.

your boyfriend still hasn't undressed himself off his work garments to change into something more comfortable and light, because the second he rushed home, stepped into the secure place of your bedroom, there was no other way for him than to pull you into his chest, and never let go, or at least it felt that way.

you do not complain though, if things would only be so easy to be hidden for eternity, in the arms of the love of your life.

an unexpected kiss was placed on your forehead as you watch ayato's sleep stricken face under your doused lashes, "what was that for?" you're teasing him, asking as if there was supposed to be a deeper, more meaningful revelation for adding a small, not to mention sweet kiss on your face.

"i missed you." he admits blatantly, humming in thought, "and i crave you."

you cuddle yourself in, feeling the rise and fall of your lover's chest, the rhythmic tune slowing his own breathing and your emotions rise in all ways when his words embrace you, you can feel the love in your chest, spreading like the butterflies in your garden— how it sits on top of your heart, everything was perfect;

the air sweet, the weather outside calming, you can hear birds sing in the sky but also behind the windows of the room, and you can hear him, whilst silent, you listen to whatever ayato said.

humming, you reply, "i missed you too."

— scaramouche

the word you searched for was luscious, perhaps, because for something that was a fixed point in your daily routines, even you struggle to know on how to properly describe an intimate moment such as the one following.

yet it‘s also uproarious that you can, on the spot, detect whenever scaramouche was particularly worn out and beaten from his work, how he's keeping his eyes open with the last abutting power of his body.

"is this comfy, kuni?" he grunts at your words, especially the way you said it, how come you utterly loved to tease and pester him like that, especially when he had just melted into your arms, in accessory to the smell of the freshly washed sheets brimming over his nostrils.

little fun fact if you don't mind and he'd never admit it with a straight face but something about being the little spoon was very alleviating and consoling to kuni, the pure feelings can barely be described in one sentence, or so he saw it.

but scaramouche scoffs at your gentle teasing at last, he'd even search for a great rebuttal in his mind if he wasn't in such condition right now, sensing the shuttering of his synapses, the quite lure into sleepiness, all his energy slipping over his hands, but he doesn't grab it.

"hmpf." he closes his eyes, and for some reason he thinks that it would be possible to escape your sweet and flustering words with something so simple.

"what an insightful answer." you remark and cock a brow, squeezing your arms relatively strong around him while stretching your body to get the stiffness out of your shoulders.

"i'll answer tomorrow." scaramouche lightly opens his eyes again to look at you, arching himself into you more, just a little, "—way too sleepy." he's almost full asleep, his head lolling back and forth to find the most comfortable spot and the muscles of his face relaxing.

personally, he thinks he needs to savor this, because even though you were in a relationship, he still believes that one day you might be gone for good. granted, he was getting better at handling such thoughts, stopping himself whenever he realized he was too clingy, but you do not mind it, obviously treasured it whenever he showed you clear signs of love and trust.

"of course." you whisper, "sleep now." and watch him through the darkened room, shutting your eyes while finding unmatched relaxation by the soft breathes and pitched up sounds of your boyfriend.

the world can be dull, monotonous even, that much you were aware of, but with scaramouche by your side, it made the presumably small moments such as those in particular— simply coming home from an engaging day full of working, all the more unique in your eyes.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[melodic-haze]

how do you feel about sub arlecchino in boss form?

☆ — DEMO TRACK: sub!boss form!Arlecchino x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Implied that reader has a cock/strap though it can be taken as fingering or oral, whatever's your preference 🤷‍♀️, does this count as monsterfucking, magic bondage??

☆ — NOTES: Arlecchino might be the only spider I will never be afraid of please take her away from me

HOW DO I FEEL??? YOU SHOULD BE ASKIGN HER❗️❗️❗️❗️ Joking I'm unfit as hell so realistically I would probably die but ohhhh I am SO sure I'm gonna at least try

Idk if you guys understand (you probably do if you've seen my other Arle posts) but the thought of absolutely bringing such a powerful being to my knees SOOOO easily even though she could like kill me or reverse our positions in less than a second is so????? Top it off w the fact that she does it willingly ohhhhhhmygod hold me back or else I'll go insane

But like it's funny when!! The Traveller couldn't do ANYTHING to her and yet the moment you say jump she basically flies

Being allowed to be the closest to Arlecchino's very heart and soul meant knowing every single facet of her being and cherishing her: from her harsh duties as a Fatui Harbinger to her past and the two girls that died with it, only for just one of them—her—to come out of it reborn and alive.

Or at least, almost every single facet of her being.

"I am unsure about this, my love."

"Why's that?"

"You do realise that you are asking me to.. not hold my power back, yes?"

You nodded, "That's what I said."

You had known of her alternate form for a while now. Her unleashing even just a fraction of her true potential, manifesting into the form of a tall sillhouette akin to a spider bathed in crimson and the dangerously oppressive air of nothing but fear. She's used it to show those that oppose her just how unequal the scales are in their battles against her, she is as lethal as she is beautiful...

And you, on the other hand, are curious.

So you brought it up in the midst of your little.. téte-a-téte. A suggestion, of course, nothing demanding because you wouldn't want to pressure your dearly beloved into doing what she didn't want to do—such power did come with a great curse.

Arlecchino was vehemently against it at first, of course. And for good measure too; you KNEW it wouldn't just be a slight increase of strength. But the case you made.. admittedly had a curious appeal. And the power you had over her, the control she had submitted to you? She was willing to do whatever you asked (usually within reason). So she suggested to shelf the experimental matter for now and let her think on it, which you do.

And now, after a few days of consideration on her part, your current situation is the result of such a suggestion.

Your lover looks at you with furrowed eyebrows and narrowed eyes, not due to disappointment at your lack of concern for yourself (though actually there may be a little bit of that too) or cold anger at your insistent provocation to get your desired result (she could never be mad at her dearest). Rather, it is due to her flabberghasted state of confusion, "I have said this before but I could hurt you despite it being unnecessary. Why do you risk your life to sate such curiosities?"

"Because I trust you, Peruere."

She stills—you had dropped her title and opted to use her true name instead, a privilege only reserved for a very select few, with one of them dead. When she doesn't speak in turn, you walk up to her and hold both of her hands, dark and cursed yet so very beautiful to your eyes, just like her.

"Just like you trust yourself to me, I trust myself to you." You lifted one of her hands to tenderly kiss her knuckles, "I want to see every single side of you, including the ones you try to keep from me. I didn't run away when you revealed your status as a Harbinger, did I?"

"No."

"Exactly. Plus," you gave her a lighthearted grin, "I haven't necessarily scolded that side of you for hurting your children, have I?"

Her expression relaxes at your remark, though she does look confused—akin to a lost puppy when she tilts her head the slightest bit, "You have done so already, have you not? And it was but a light scuffle, I have taught them well enough that they aren't as injured as they would have been otherwise.. even if their attacks were pitiful."

"Arlecchino!" You chuckled out her title despite the loud bemusement of your voice, "Come on."

Her face never really shows all that much emotion, but you do see the slightly humorous glimmer in her crossed-out eyes, "I speak of the truth. They should have given a better performance."

You rolled your eyes, "That aside," and you give her a soft, reassuring look, "do you feel a little better now?"

She takes another pause.. and then nods. "Yes," she agrees, "I do. But I urge you to tell me if something feels wrong, alright?"

"Of course." You lean in to press another kiss, on her lips this time, before drawing back as fast as you came, "I wouldn't want to worry you further."

And so now you are faced to faced with this monstrous being. But that's what you've been wanting the entire time, isn't it? Lol sorry I'll get out of the weird monologue speak IT ABSOLUTELY IS THE MOMENT YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FORRR

You start off slow, obviously—caressing every inch of her. This is new, and you wouldn't want to worry your lover, do you? It's best not to rush into it even though ik you guys just wanna get into it idk 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Your hands graze her skin, your fingers trace new lines and markings.....and if you're a fashion nerd you probably inspect her clothing's transformation too, though you don't really have to be a fashion geek in order to take it off

THOUGH.......actually? Tell her to strip for you, to give you a show. Tell her you want to see her full body bare. I meant what I said when I told you she would willingly follow your every command, as if she were more devoted to you than the Tsaritsa herself, and that includes this

Just lean back and watch her as she slowly strips herself down, every inch of her body visible for you to see. You see her eyes glow crimson too, a physical manifestation of her pyro domain responding to her desire for you

Methinks that in this form specifically, she while she's a lot more strong and a lot more durable, she's also a lot more sensitive bc she'd be much more connected and hyper-aware of everything that's happening. This is my own take on how it feels to be in the form she's in btw idk how it'd work but anyway this means!! A lot of good things for you :3

If you try to put her fingers in your mouth you'll notice that she's warm. And I mean like REALLY fucking warm—her body doesn't stay at that temperature too. As you lick and suck on her digits, you'll notice that her skin, her fingers, get warmer and warmer the longer she watches you and feels you

Not just her fingers too 🥰🥰 if your touch goes down and you feel her cunt, it's HOT to the touch, though not scorching that'd be wild as hell. The shock would probably take you off guard though, and she'll probably be worried at first but like reassure her that you haven't been hurt or anything and that you're perfectly okay!!

Acc reassure her a LOT. Sure, yeah, she's the one that holds the power and she DOES have impeccable control over it, but she doesn't want to risk like yk. Accidentally killing you somehow and essentially throwing away someone so undoubtedly special to her just bc you wanted to monsterfuck out of curiosity 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ like that's such a way to go

Weak domtop reassuring op subbot during sex is like a silly trope I love it can you lot tell I think you can tell

Anyway it's not like she'll leave you to do all the work either; she can't leave you all unsatisfied like that, she wants you happy too :( so her free hand goes all the way down and she returns the favour. She does it amazingly too, like she's very careful with it but the heat on her hands basically does most of the heavy lifting as well anyway, and by now she probably knows of all the different ways to get you moaning out with her 🫶

Going down on her, fucking her is all well and good......but YOU KNOW WHAT YOU CAN DO TO MAKE IT BETTER???? Yk the. When the Traveller couldn't move bc of her pyro web things. That. Except on her. Do you guys like see my vision I hope you do

Having her restrict herself as you go in and out of her in any way you like ougjfhgh.......I think it's the fact that she could just easily dispel it and even reverse it on you bc IT'S HER FUCKING ABILITY and yet she doesn't bc she wants to be all good for you. So she struggles in HER OWN WEB as you're essentially free to do whatever you want with her

Her like. Those extra appendages she has in her boss form too. Some of them are twitching and flailing about as you fuck her silly, others are simultaneously trying to hold you closer to her body, returning the favour even further by touching you everywhere she can AND trying not to hurt you by squeezing you too hard or accidentally burning you or anything

Just the whole struggle to not hurt you but her senses are getting muddled with pleasure I keep going back to this but it's just SOOOO ugh. Yo ugysdont understanddd I'm like probably malnourished so to dom someone who can snap me in half is mmmmmmmmMAN 🤤🤤🤤eys please

God she definitely has more stamina and libido than she already did before too??? Bc of like the heat and the strength increase. So holy fuck you're going to be going at it for AGESSSS.......Not like constantly though, she WILL make you take breaks and that will acc be the ONLY time she uses her web ability thing on you bc she is still concerned for your wellbeing no matter what 🥰🥰🥰

When you're acc all done though, which is. Not for a LONG time, you both kinda sit there, spent (more you than her probably) and her detransformed. Prepare yourself for GODLY aftercare by Father herself 🙏🙏 she like treats you to even more pampering than usual, not letting you lift a FINGER to do anything and her treating you personally if you got any burns at the end of your session

"I care not if you like my fire's sting, my dearest," she gently yet firmly tugged on your arm, "I will not stand for it if such an injury that I accidentally inflicted gets worse."

"Aww..." You sighed goodnaturedly, "I guess at least it makes for a good scar."

"Y/N."

"Whaaaat? I'm right!"

She shook her head, though the corners of her eyes crinkled, "Come here and let me treat you."

As risky as that was on you, not only has your curiosity has been more than sated, but Arlecchino finds herself.. wanting to repeat the experience. Shedding that extra layer of herself in such a moment felt.. much more intimate than usual. It was addicting

That won't be for a good while though—she'd agree to doing it once every few months :3

[fluentisonus]

still chewing this one over so hopefully this makes sense but one very minor running thing I feel like we get w jean valjean is that without disliking women or even believing that they're in any way unequal to him he. hm. for the most part doesn't have much normal contact with adult women after his sister (and presumably none for the 19 years he was in prison) which means that. not that he doesn't understand women so much as i feel like idk. he makes the mistake of unconsciously assuming men-are-from-mars-women-are-from-venus style that he doesn't understand them (being aware of that lack of contact & under the impression women are fairly different to men), and because he's a guy who wants to understand things & is largely self taught (often from books) especially wrt social niceties, he ends up being very credulous, in that presumed lack of understanding, of commonly held beliefs & traditional, societally reinforced ideas of gender rolls & gender characteristics, and this sometimes ends up ultimately hurting women around him despite his genuine good intentions

like obviously firstly in montreuil-sur-mer where he wants the female workers to have "pure morals" and gives them a separate workroom to the men to "remain discreet" which I think he genuinely intended as a means of making it a good work environment for the workers -- women can have privacy & focus on work & nothing uncomfortable or untoward is being brought into the workplace etc -- but as we know this backfired horrendously because it essentially resulted in fantine being fired for having a child out of wedlock & everything she went through after. and given his reaction he doesn't seem to have ever considered this a potential effect of his rules -- like he doesn't seem to have understood how those sorts of rules end up ultimately punish the women involved more than anything

and the other main instance of course is with cosette and his assumption that essentially a woman has a father, & then she has a husband & having a husband no longer needs a father (this is strengthened a lot by his own feeling of his own taintedness -- it's not the main thing responsible for what happened by any means. but it's a part of it) & this assumption is incredibly hard on her!!! she obviously doesn't see it that way at all! but it never seems like it occurs to him not to think of it in that framework bc essentially society in general sees it that way

idk I guess what I find interesting abt this is that it's a big blind spot in a guy who's otherwise extremely willing to question social biases & generally likes to take people all on a level as just another sort of person like himself. again I think in his general behavior towards women interpersonally there's nothing bad & in fact there's a lot of genuine respect there & probably willingness to learn even (in fantine 's case), but it's like he just never worked out that these ideas about gender are about as true & helpful as ideas about class or criminality etc etc

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

‘Gun Play’ & ‘Fear Play’ w/ Scarecrow (for Kinktober 2024)

Title: take this gun and cock it

Rating: Mature 

Fandom: Batman Trilogy (Nolanverse) 

Characters: Jonathan Crane (Scarecrow); Female Reader Insert

Pairing: Jonathan Crane (Scarecrow)/Female Reader 

Summary: You knew you shouldn’t have put Dr. Crane on your dissertation committee, but he had the most pull in the Neuropharmacology world in and around Gotham. If you wanted to make a name for yourself in this profession, you’d need to get on his good side. After several passive-aggressive meetings with said professor, you decide enough is enough. If research and academia won’t show him, you will. So one afternoon, you walk into his private office intending to once and for all, prove to your Professor that pleasure is just as great, if not superior, of a motivator as fear. [Warning: Reader is high-key insane in this, like, almost as nuts as Crane. But be aware, this is a dark fic with very unequal power dynamics at play.] 

Trigger Warning(s): Gunplay; Drugging; Threats of Violence; Implied Sex; Dubious Consent (due to the whole pointing a gun at him thing); Very Unsafe Firearm Practices (that would probably get this fic sponsored by the NRA); [Lowkey] Dead Dove, Do Not Eat

A/N: Here it is- my first-ever attempt at participating in Kinktober! So please go easy on me. 

♔☍☣ ♔☍☣♔☍☣ ♔☍☣

“Knock, knock.” Poking your head into Dr. Professor Crane’s doorway, you flashed your teacher a cunning smile. “Got a sec?” 

Not bothering to look up from his paperwork, Dr. Professor Crane’s answer was detached as per his usual. 

“Office hours are posted on the door. If you must speak with me,” Jonathan sighed, tired of the frequent idiotic interruptions from fatuous students, “Sign up for a time slot. I don’t accept walk-ins.”  

You playfully pouted, your recently glossed lips pursing into the shape of a frown. 

“Surely that doesn’t include me? Especially since… I brought you coffee!” 

Upon hearing your oddly chipper voice, Dr. Crane looked up, a perturbed expression on his face. 

You waited silently as he sized you up, your gleeful exterior not shirking under his ice-blue gaze. 

“Come in,” Crane finally settled on, the fresh coffee too tempting of an opportunity to pass up. 

“One large black coffee, regular, just how you like it.” 

You held out the beverage for him to take, blinking impatiently as he ignored your physical presence and instead went back to reading. With a roll of your eyes, you placed the styrofoam cup at the top of his desk. 

Not wanting to waste any more time, you delved into the matter. 

“So, uh, Dr. Professor Crane,” you started, “I wanted to speak to you about my upcoming thesis defense—” 

“Mhm-hm,” Crane mumbled, already having written off the remainder of this interaction. 

“Well, I was wondering if—” 

“No.” 

“I’m, I’m sorry?” 

“I don’t give extensions. If you wanted to become a Doctor you should have thought of the effort required before applying to this program.” 

You couldn’t help but sputter at the bastard’s words. Did he honestly think you were here to grovel before him? To get on your hands and knees and beg for an extension?! Oh, how rich! 

After all the hoops you’ve jumped through, after all the changes and additional inclusions you made solely for his approval, for his benefit, did he truly think you had any intention of doing one more single thing he asked? 

‘Oh no. Oh no, no, no,’ you thought. ‘I’m not the one that’s going to leave this office begging.’ 

You knew you needed his support for there to be unanimous approval from your dissertation committee concerning your upcoming thesis defense next week. And you knew from all the previous horror stories you’d heard through the Gotham University grapevine that in most cases, Crane was often students’ one stubborn holdout. 

You knew you shouldn’t have picked him to be your dissertation advisor. But dammit, he was the best in the field of Neuropharmacology, so you figured you’d just suck it up and get on his good side. The only problem was, the man didn’t seem to have a good side!

Every semester, every class with him was like pulling teeth: torturously slow and agonizingly painful. You worked your ass off, day and night, working full-time while juggling a full course load only to be demeaned and nitpicked every chance he got. You were consistently the best in your class, and yet not once did Dr. Crane ever offer an encouraging word or a simple ‘great work’. But oh boy, did he have tons to say the second you’d make one teeny-tiny mistake. 

It made your blood boil. 

And the man simply would not shut the hell up about fear!

Fear, fear, fear, fear— it’s all he ever enjoyed lecturing about! It was obsessive! It had to be. 

The way his fascination with fear and adrenaline would pervade their way into other topic discussions, so you wound up responsible for teaching yourself his lesson material nearly half the time. You swore he talked about fear so much, that some of your fellow students ended up having fear-induced psychotic breaks themselves! 

At least, that’s what you used to think. 

After a particularly harsh meeting with Dr. Crane, your adversarial thesis advisor, you ran into a fellow Psychology student as you entered the bathroom. Seeing your tearful expression and feeling concerned for your well-being, they cautioned you against working too closely with Crane any further. Confused, you wiped the tears and snot off your face and asked for them to clarify what they meant. 

Apparently, someone, they weren’t sure who— probably a former flunkee student— started the vicious rumor that Crane was using his students as guinea pigs to conduct unauthorized experiments surrounding fear, and the nervous system’s fear response. 

She said that several students had reported leaving lectures feeling nauseous, and unexpectedly anxious. Of course, it could have just been the grotesque nature of the material or the fact that Dr. Crane was a frightening teacher to perform for, but some of them had sworn they must've been hit with something inside his classroom. 

It all sounded so farfetched, like the B-plot to a bad sci-fi movie. It couldn’t possibly be true. But then, the reality of your past experiences in his lectures came crashing down onto you like a tidal wave. 

You were always so worked up, so angry when you left his lectures. You had just assumed it was because you found the man infuriating but what if… 

‘What if,’ your mind supplied, ‘What if your anger, your elevated heart rate— what if all of it, was your nervous system’s fight or flight response having been activated by some secret drug?’ 

That’s when it all fell into place. It was like your blinders had been ripped off, exposing you, in an instant, to the harsh reality: 

Your Professor, Dr. Jonathan Crane had spent the last few years drugging you, and getting away with it. 

You didn’t know what pissed you off more, the fact that he used you as a lab rat or the fact that this little ongoing experiment of his was most likely the reason behind why he had such dissent for your thesis. 

Your entire argument was that, as far as human motivators go, pleasure and reward had a much stronger influence compared to the fear of pain or punishment. 

But of course! 

It made sense that Dr. Crane took issue with that stance when his entire ideology revolved around how fear, not pleasure, not reward, ruled the mind above all else. 

The cherry on top was that your unknowing participation in his sick game only further proved his point: your anger, triggered by your fear of failure, had driven you to work as hard as you did. No wonder he was so eager to criticize your manuscript! Every single time he watched your nostrils flare and your lips purse, he would know his theory was being proven right. 

Well… not this time. Oh, no. This time, you were going to be the one pulling the strings and he was going to be the little white mouse, wondering which fork in the maze to take. 

Was it risky? Oh, for sure. He could have you kicked out of the program, hell probably even arrested and tried for assault. But you just couldn’t curb your desire to do to him what he spent all those years doing to you. You wanted to watch him squirm, wanted to see his pupils blown, and his irises thin as his trembling figure begged for release from your experimental ministrations. 

Who knows? Maybe all that medication he’d been slipping you had made you mad. 

It was his fault, really. As a psychologist, he should have seen this coming. 

Tut tut. 

Oh, well! There was nothing he could do now. Not at the moment anyway. 

Seated across from where you stood looking over his desk, Dr. Crane may not have known it, but he’d handed you the reins to the experimental controls long ago. From the second he started dosing you, this prognosis was inevitable. 

It was like he always said: “The mind could only take so much.” 

You walked around to the side of his desk, blocking his view of the door and the hall outside. 

‘How cute,’ You thought. How cute how he pretended not to notice the change in your position, nor be intimidated by it. 

“Ahem,” you cleared your throat, demanding his attention. “As I was saying, Professor,” you intentionally skipped his other title, “I need to speak with you a minute.” 

Brows furrowing, Dr. Crane momentarily took off his glasses before rubbing his forehead trying to relieve some of the building tension. Unsuccessful in the attempt, Crane placed his rectangular glasses back on the bridge of his nose and turned his attention back to you. 

The deprecatory nature of his stare combined with his piercing light blue eyes had the opposite effect. If you hadn’t learned the true nature of his psyche, you might have once again been intimidated by them. Rather than unnerve you, they made him appear susceptible. It was too late. You saw him for what he was now: a coward. 

It was… appetizing. 

Behind those frozen irises, behind that steely gaze was a scared little boy, playing dress-up, trying desperately to look stronger and bigger than he was. 

Dr. Jonathan Crane was simply a scared little kid, masked in a psychologist's trench coat. 

And now, you thought it high time to unmask him. 

Ignoring his judgemental gaze, you moved even closer. 

“I’m just trying to understand, Professor.” 

Taking a seat on the corner of his desk, you were very much aware of how your deceptively short pencil skirt pulled taut against your thighs. 

“I think my summation of the available data makes it pretty clear…” 

You shifted all of your weight to one red high-heeled foot. The other you allowed to dangle loosely from where your bent knee met the edge of the professor’s dark oak desk. 

“The brain’s reward center, dopamine— pleasure, is notably a greater motivator than fear.” 

Licking your lips, you couldn't help but watch with wicked delight as the good doctor’s neck tensed, his muscles no doubt straining against the growing, sinful desire to glance downwards at the obvious part between your legs. 

You tilted your dangling heel down, the pointed tip of your shoe grazing ever so slightly, ever so suggestively against your dear mentor’s outer thigh. Gleefully, you wondered if he could pick up the scent of your arousal, the two of you currently less than a foot apart. 

“Wouldn’t you agree?” 

“Ms. (L/N),” Crane started.

“Come now, Doctor. Surely you, of all people, know that throughout human history, both mentally and physiologically speaking, pleasure has been, at the very least, as influential of a motivator as fear?” 

Your dangly earring shook with the slight tilt of your head. 

“People love to chase what feels good, what excites them, what makes them feel alive! Regardless of whether or not that thing isn’t good for them.” 

Your equally distracting red-manicured fingers began to trace gentle circles around your outer ankle bone, the ends of your nails briefly swiping over the black material of his suit pants. 

“Humans’ desire to feel pleasure wins out over their ability to behave rationally.” 

Professor Dr. Crane swallowed tersely before nodding. 

“I would agree with that statement.” 

Jonathan pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, using the momentum as an inconspicuous opportunity to scooch his chair back, away from your contact. 

“However, I would maintain the argument that fear holds a much more pivotal role in the survival of a species. And is, therefore, much more consequential in its provocations.” 

“Hmm…” You pursed your lips together, obviously only pretending to be deep in thought. 

Across from you, Jonathan’s resentment for your pathetic salacious attempt only grew as he watched your actions morph into something akin to mockery. 

You were his inferior! How dare you question him?!

It was bad enough the university board was breathing down his neck, now he had some pseudo-confident slutty graduate student to contend with as well. 

Oh, you would pay for this. He would make you regret this little attention-whore stunt of yours. Just you wait…

Unfettered by the way Professor Crane’s jaw clenched, you continued your practiced spiel. 

“I can see why you’d champion that. After all, your experiments here are centered around patients' reactions to fearful stimuli.” Unbothered, you checked your manicure before foxily pushing yourself off the desk, your high heels landing with a pointed ‘clack’ sound as they hit the floor. 

“Makes sense why you’d be unable to recognize an opposing, although equally valid theory.” 

“My grading is objective and based entirely on a student’s performance. And for you to imply otherwise—” Professor Crane’s piercing blue eyes stayed confidently fixed on yours.

“But it’s subjective too,” you countered, stepping directly in front of the man. 

“You’re judging my performance on your personal model. A biased model ingrained in you, that your deeply held beliefs reign superior. To you, fear is the end all be all; it’s the cornerstone of human motivation. You can’t accept my performance as worthy or eligible when you're fixated on your own theory. Your superiority complex prevents you from being anything other than subjective as far as my research, my papers— even my very existence in your class is concerned.” 

“It is not a discredit to my insight that you are incapable of seeing the depth of my genius—” Jonathan started to heatedly refute your assessment, but you cut him off. 

Stepping forward, you placed your knee on the edge of his chair, centering it between his own.

“I know about your experiments.” 

You kept your tone low so that only he could hear. 

“I know the board is growing suspicious, thinking of ‘asking’ you to resign.” You said, making air quotes. “I know all about your special ‘cocktail’ the night of the Christmas Eve Party. I know the cops have been sniffing around, and it’s only a matter of time before those inbred idiots start asking that poor girl the right questions.” 

“What do you want?” Jonathan asked, keeping a stiff upper lip. 

Mindful not to alert you to his plan of action, Jonathan remained calm. He could still regain control here. 

The man also known as Scarecrow to his Arkham patients was keenly aware that his briefcase containing his fear gas briefcase and Scarecrow mask was situated just to the left of you, resting inconspicuously on his desk. 

If he could just make a move for it without you becoming wise to his plan. 

‘What are you waiting for?!’ A scratchy, harsh voice inside Jonathon’s mind chided the Doctor for his hesitation. ‘Do it! Show her that fear is our domain, not hers, not hers! It’s time!’

‘It’s always time, isn’t it?’ Jonathan’s much smoother voice commented drearily. ‘Time to run. Time to cower.’ 

Time to just keep his head down and accept the consequences, accept how shameful, how broken he was. 

‘No! No! It’s time to fight back! Time to glower! Time to gloat and rule over those puny imbeciles who’ve done us wrong. We are not afraid! They should be the ones who are afraid! They will be the ones who scream and cry— not us, not us!’ 

He would not release his hold on the situation. He did not scrape by, lie, steal, and torture for his brilliance only to roll over and show his belly to you! The wounded part of him demanded action, demanded sacrifice for these feelings of apprehension you had caused him. 

The psychologist in him, the professional in him was almost impressed, nay, enthralled by your show of dominance. It was both vexing and amusing. It had crept under his skin and sunk its perfectly manicured claws into his chest, reaching in and commanding his heart to beat. 

His heart started to beat faster and his breaths became more and more shallow. 

It was dizzying, intoxicating— arousing even. 

The Scarecrow in him wanted to crush it— to squash you. 

But Jonathon wanted it to keep going— to consume him whole. 

Enjoying his responses so far, you gripped both armrests of his chair, locking him in place. 

“I want to conduct a little experiment of my own.” Your voice was still quiet, still assured. 

“And then you can tell me in real-time which is stronger: pleasure…” 

Releasing one hand from the armrest, you traced a red coffin-nailed finger down Jonathon’s chest, right down the middle of his tie. 

“...Or fear.” 

Feeling cornered by the weight of the unknown, the Scarecrow decided to make his move. 

“If you’re done with this little display here, I have other matters to attend to, much more important than contending with brainless whore students.” He sneered, hoping his icy tone would catch you off guard enough that he could casually push out from under your weight. 

His piercing blue eyes met your determined ones. It seemed you weren’t backing down. 

‘Fine then’, Jonathan thought. ‘If that’s how you wanted to play it’. 

His arm shot out past you, quickly gripping the handle of his briefcase. But before he could tug it open, you decided to play the last card up your sleeve. 

“Not so fast, Doctor,” you reprimanded as if speaking to a child. “It’s not time for that… yet.” 

Frozen, Jonathan’s previously confident eyes shifted into an expression between confusion and fear. Unable to even speak, he couldn't help but look back and forth between where his hand rested on his briefcase handle, and where your hand rested, gripping the barrel of a gun. 

“Pretty, isn’t it?” You asked, turning the gun sideways to show off the pearl handle. “My Father gifted it to me when I moved to Gotham for University. Of course, at the time, I thought it was such a silly gift. Just total overkill. And then, I came here,” you waved it around rather casually as you spoke, “And I met you.” 

You laughed, villainously at the memory, bearing your teeth and smiling wickedly at the dumbfounded teacher in front of you. 

“Can I just say? I had never once thought of putting a bullet through a teacher’s head before I met you. God! You were just so, so, infuriating!” You shook your head in amused disbelief. 

“And so arrogant! I mean the number of times you let out a little too much information, all just to insult a student’s inferior answer or to roast a fellow professor.” Your expression became incredulous. “Do you realize how much you told us, all because you thought we were too stupid to understand?!” 

You rhythmically pressed the gun up into his, teasingly punctuating every other word. 

“I mean, come on! Isn’t that Intro to Villany 101? Don’t spill the beans?” 

“You don’t know anything.” The bolder character inside of Professor Crane had found his voice. “You may think you do, but you’re sorely mistaken.” 

“I know enough,” you countered. 

“Not as far as the cops are concerned. Or the faculty board.” His self-assured tone rivaled yours. “Do you really think I don’t have men on the inside?” 

Having recaptured his certitude, The Scarecrow’s signature condescending expression settled back over his face as he craned his neck forward, bringing his mouth mere inches from your own. 

“The minute you tell anyone what you think you know, your life ends— effective immediately.” 

His bravado caused your large canine-baring grin to shrink into a much smaller, reserved one. If Johnathan’s words had scared you, you had no intention of making a big show of it. 

You leaned in, pushing your face close enough to his that you could feel his heated breath on your lips. 

“Guess it’s a good thing then, I don’t intend on telling anyone about this. And neither do you.” 

“Is that so?” The Scarecrow challenged. 

Without warning, you reached out with your free hand, gripping it securely around his throat, and forcibly tilted his head back. Using your newfound leverage you pushed your knee back against his crotch, smirking as you felt the unmistakable outline of his semi-hard cock through his clothes. 

Satisfied that the ball was back in your court, you menacingly lined up the nozzle of your gun with Dr. Crane’s deliciously exposed Adam’s apple. 

“Let’s find out.” 

♔☍☣ ♔☍☣♔☍☣ ♔☍☣

A/N 2.0: So originally I was gonna expand on the sex scene at the end (because of the whole Kinktober thing, duh!) but I ran out of time. Who knows? Maybe I’ll continue it one day if enough people would enjoy it??? Lmk 

[probablyasocialecologist]

We’re often told that it would be unfeasible for everyone on the planet to live good lives—that if there wasn’t some degree of poverty—or at least lower living standards—in the rest of the world, then we’d blow right through the ecological limits of the planet. Even if it’s not said explicitly, the argument is that some people need to be poor in order for us in the Global North to live good lives. There’s a lot wrong with this assumption on a lot of different levels, but most importantly—it’s empirically inaccurate. It is possible, in fact, for everybody on the planet to have their needs met and to live a good life and make it happen, in fact, with only 30 percent of current global resource and energy use. That might sound unbelievable, right? Well, that’s capitalist realism for you. Because not only is it believable—it’s based on solid research and empirical data. It would, however, require ending capitalism and moving towards eco-socialism. So yes, it’s possible. But it won’t be easy. To discuss the research behind these exciting findings we’ve brought on economic anthropologist Jason Hickel. Jason is a professor at the The Institute for Environmental Science and Technology at the Autonomous University of Barcelona, and the author of the books The Divide: A Brief Guide to Global Inequality and its Solutions and Less is More: How Degrowth will Save the World. He’s the lead author of the paper “How much growth is required to achieve good lives for all? Insights from needs-based analysis” published in the journal World Development Perspectives, and which we’ll be discussing today.  As you may know, Jason is a regular guest on the show and was on most recently to discuss two other fascinating and important papers he recently co-authored, “Imperialist appropriation in the world economy: Drain from the global South through unequal exchange, 1990–2015” published in journal Global Environmental Change and "Unequal exchange of labour in the world economy" published in the journal Nature Communications. What assumptions go into traditional economic thinking and how have they limited the way we conceptualize poverty and how we address it? How do we conceive of good lives—and how does our current economic system limit these conceptions and perpetuate environmental destruction and social immiseration? What would an economic system that is designed around meeting actual human and planetary needs look like? And, perhaps most importantly, how do we get there? These are just some of the questions we discuss in this fascinating conversation with economic anthropologist Jason Hickel.

[rottendollface]

Guilty.

Character: Wriothesley.

Warnings: NSFW, female reader, OOC Wriothesley and Neuvillette, religious cult, mass suicide, psychological manipulations, gaslighting, corrupted court, unrequited love from Wriothesley to reader, unhealthy obsession, toxic care, forced unequal marriage, unhealthy self-criticism, unprotected gentle sex, oral sex (reader receiving), 18+.

W/C: 3240.

In the DNA of every Fontaine citizen there was a primal fear of the Primordial Sea. Some of the citizens were happy to convince themselves that it wasn't a fear – just a placidity with the notes of hidden anxiety. Others were counting days and seeking for the proof of the prophecy coming true. Your father belonged to the second category.

He was a good speaker and did know how to manipulate other people's feelings. He was blessed with good fantasy, lively tongue, and commitment to his ideas. He would rather die than betray his ideals – thanks to this impressive core strength, he was able to become a preacher for a group of people that was waiting for the end humbly. Your father's mind was gone and he, drugged with the sense of power, created a cult of Primordial Sea, where he and his followers were praying for the Judgment Day to come. Their insanity was ineffable: the whole cult decided to commit mass suicide as a prey for the Primordial Sea. Your father told his followers that after their death, their souls would beg the Primordial Sea to pour on the Fontaine to purify the sinners, and the evil would be erased. He managed to make people think that the whole nation of Fontaine was born as a messiah. But something went wrong: everyone, except your father, had died.

The trial was rough and humiliating for you; there was only you left in Fontaine as your mother left the city right after her husband became a preacher. The Chief Justice Neuvillette was furious, you could swear his piercing gaze was directed not on your father only, but on you as well; Neuvillette himself insisted on your presence and prohibited you from leaving the trial. You could hear people in the courtroom whispering behind your back: they were discussing every detail of your family life, laughing scornfully at your destroyed reputation. The whole clan of yours was disgraced, and you, as the only alive representative of it, was meant to take this burden on your shoulders. You were thinking about leaving Fontaine, too, but you missed the opportunity. During investigation, you got into a list of suspects and was banned from leaving Fontaine for a couple of years. Your innocence was proved, but the authorities promised to keep an eye on you, as they still believed you were affected by your father's ideas.

For the whole trial, you couldn't take a handkerchief out of your eyes. You were crying silently, praying for this grotesque performance to end. The white cotton handkerchief of yours embroidered with pink roses was wet with tears and felt disgusting when you pressed it to your skin, but you couldn't help but cry about your ruined life. It was a triumph of justice and the funeral of your youth. Not a respected man would ever marry you or hire you on a prestigious job. You were doomed to lead a miserable life until you would be able to leave Fontaine.

Wriothesley was here too, and he was observing you carefully. He knew you well since adolescence and the whole situation left him in shock, but with a pleasurable aftertaste. Previously you wouldn't even look at him and now you didn't have a choice but to go to him if you wanted to save the remnants of your reputation and provide yourself a life without hardships. Wriothesley wasn't lucky to fall in love with you since the very first moment he met you at a tea party between honorable families, but you were fascinated with another boy. Wriothesley knew your engagement fell apart, so he was blessed with a good chance.

Despite his social status, the title of the Lord of the Fortress of Meropide left its mark on Wriothesley's reputation. Respected as usual, he silently became unwanted at many events and parties, as if the spirit of jail and the aura of social outcasts he had to work with were following him everywhere. This isolation affected Wriothesley, making him distant and cold. The more time he spent at the Fortress, the fewer reasons for leaving it he had seen. Maybe if you agree to become his woman, he would taste the pleasure of simple walks and visits to the cafe again.

Wriothesley noticed you looking at him and he gave you a nod, you gave him back a forced sorrowful smile and turned your head to Neuvillette. Even in a state of full emotional breakdown you were beautiful: your puffy and red eyes with clumpy eyelashes, the reddened tip of your nose and your swollen red lips awoke long forgotten desires in him. Your hair with two small and messy braids that were framing both sides of your charming face left him dreaming of just one touch of it. Rose gold locket with a print of a flower on your neck begged Wriothesley to replace it with the one with his family's symbol; and this mourning black dress on your fragile figure needed to be torn off of your body and burned in a fire along with this tragic past of yours, Wriothesley believed. You were a heroine of his dreams, and Wriothesley was determined to become your knight in real life.

You didn't look at all the relatives of the victims of your father's deeds. You paid them a stated compensation, but money couldn't bring back their loved one – it was impossible for you to endure talking to them as the guilt was covering your whole existence and turned you into a silent shell of a man. You had to sell all the furniture and tableware, all your jewelry except family heirlooms and plenty of your dresses were sold, too. The more you tried to hold the family estate and the heritage your ancestors made in your hands, the faster it fell down, as if your touch was diseased. When the trial ended you were the first to rush out of the courtroom.

You got into debts trying to pay off legal costs and to feed yourself. You applied to dozens of jobs but all of them were silent. The debt papers were multiplying and there was no way for you to escape the vicious circle, until one morning you got a letter with a black wax seal and the emblem of Wriothesley's family. It was short and cold. Wriothesley stated that he paid for all your debts and invited you for a private talk to the Fortress of Meropide. Your hands started shaking both from fear and gratitude, your mixed emotions made your heart beat so fast it was hard to breathe. You cried all your tears already and your face grimaced in a painful cry without any tear. You didn't expect Wriothesley to stand by your side when everyone else turned their backs on you, he had no reasons for helping you: you had always been allured by someone else and rarely found a moment to spare on him. You suspected that he had romantic feelings towards you and this made you avoid him even more. For you Wriothesley was just an acquaintance and you were afraid to give him a false hope. The only time you initiated a talk with him was the day of his promotion to the post of Lord. It was short and simple: just a greeting and a small present with a congratulatory card. The present was so simple and unsuitable for the occasion, yet it seemed like a great idea for you to present to Wriothesley a set of your favorite pastries. It was the best pastries on the whole Fontaine but you didn't even ask him if he liked them.

Wriothesley was waiting for you nervously. You came right at the appointed hour. Before he could tell you a thing you hugged him, pressing his mature figure to yours tightly.

'Words can't express my gratitude to you, Wriothesley.' You whispered loud enough for him to hear. Stunned, he even forgot to hug you back, and you let him go right when he wanted to embrace you. 'You wanted a private talk, and I'm here. Still, I can't understand why we have to do it in the Fortress…'

You shivered and looked around with pain in your eyes. It worked, Wriothesley thought, noticing every detail in your appearance that showed him clearly – you were exposed and ready to accept everything he would offer to you. The extreme degree of despair that you felt coming through the cold moldy corridors full of murderers, thieves and rapists made you distressed, and the escort of Clorinde with her attentive eyes watching your every step didn't make it easier.

'I hope you understand all the seriousness of the situation you ended up in,' Wriothesley started with a calm assured voice. 'Your life fell apart in a moment. My life is crumbling slowly. The best we can do is to stay together. Your reputation will be restored, you will live a happy life again, I promise you I will take all the responsibility for it in my hands.'

'I appreciate your tenacity, but how? It's impossible, dear Wriothesley. I will leave Fontaine after the end of my travel restrictions, just like my mother did. This is the best I can do.' You answered him with sadness. Leaving behind the great history of your family, the manor and a carefree life that you once had, and the lovingly tended homeland was hard, impossible even, but you couldn't endure the way your friends were turning their faces away from you on the streets, hiding their hands inside their cloaks just not to have a handshake with you.

Dear Wriothesley… Those words were sweeter than honey when spoken out of your lips. It seemed like he ignored everything you said after, his gaze fixated on your lovely face as he admired it. He dreamed of those words, of the private moments, of the simplest conversation – and now he had it all at his plate.

Wriothesley's tone was stern. 'The stain on your reputation is indelible. You shouldn't think that a simple escape will erase it – it will make everything even worse, everyone will think that you are guilty, just like your father. You should stay in the city and forget about your plan.'

'Why?' Your eyes filled with tears. 'How can I stay here if everyone despises me?! Merchants close their shops when they see me coming! I'm pushed out of society just because of my father! I am the one tortured with terrible inner guilt! This is a miracle that you are talking to me, you are the only one whom I'm talking to in a month! I'm so sorry to the one who lost their relatives, but they are not the only victims and no one feels compassion towards me!' You cried like an animal wounded by a trap. Your lips were trembling, as you tried to prevent tears, but it didn't work and an uncontrollable stream poured from your tired eyes. You covered your face with your palms, but your shuddering shoulders unrevealed your hysterical, bitter, full of anger and sense of helplessness crying.

Wriothesley came to you and hugged you softly, carefully, not to scare you away: he pressed you to his body, one of his hands held your back and the other was patting the back of your head. You felt safe for the first time and took your palms away from your face.

'Marry me, and your problems will be gone.' Wriothesley whispered, pressing his cheek to your head. His touch was full of need and love, he held you in his hands tightly, as if you could melt and disappear, and was the most precious part of his life. Seconds before your answer were the most agonizing in his entire life.

You bit your lip until blood while thinking chaotically, choosing between honesty to yourself and all the goods you could have from pairing with Wriothesley. You respected him, admired him for his character, but you never loved him. And he loved you – the terrible guess turned out to be true, and guilt pricked you once again. All this time your cowardly silence was hurting him. Even now he was ready to put at risk his own reputation only to save yours. The selfless things Wriothesley was ready to do for love – you never deserved him.

'I will…' You could feel how your heart dropped, and how Wriothesley's heart started beating faster from excitement. He was the happiest man on Teyvat, and you were the most despised in your own eyes.

You moved to Wriothesley's house before you got engaged. He insisted on it, as he believed that your manor was full of negative memories and he wanted you to rest before the ceremony. Everything was just like Wriothesley said: people started treating you better after you were announced as his fiancée. The wedding was small, only for the closest friends, and there was no one from your side.

'I see the results of my help,' Neuvillette said, patting Wriothesley on his shoulder, when you were busy talking to Sigewinne. 'Treat her well. That is the only way you can atone your foul trick on her.'

'Sure, Chief Justice.' Wriothesley chuckled. 'You don't have to worry about it.'

Wriothesley's authority was strong enough to affect people's opinion. If he believed you and thought of you as a good match for him, then it meant that you were a decent woman, disgraced by your father's deeds. Slowly, you became welcomed again. The society that once cruelly pushed you out, was pitying you. You were able to attend parties, but Wriothesley didn't share your happiness.

Every time you got an invitation he was here to remind you, that those families turned their backs on you when you needed their support. He claimed them unworthy of your presence, he told you it would be better if you stop befriending traitors. You were surrounded by traitors, Wriothesley believed, and all your surroundings needed to be changed.

You tried to brush it off, but deep inside you knew – Wriothesley was right. Instead of noisy parties you preferred to spend your time at home, having a conversation with Wriothesley and drinking tea with your favorite pastries. He was so generous towards you: your every whim, your smallest wishes were done. Your laugh and joyful shine of your eyes were his best payment – he wanted nothing, but your smile. The only reason Wriothesley came home was you waiting for him. He knew you would meet him and give him a greeting kiss, then ask him about his day. It was an unchanging ritual, a rule of your and his family. While on work Wriothesley dreamed of your gentle touch, of warmth of your lips against his. He couldn't forget how blessed he was to share the most intimate moments with you. Your body was supple and took everything Wriothesley gave to it. Usually a rough lover, he couldn't treat you the same way he treated other women. His hands undressed you, traced your curves gently, with adoration, as if he was touching the masterpiece made by Archons themselves. His lingering touches were mixed with his wet kisses on your body. Your soft skin got hot from the simplest touch and Wriothesley used it to his advantage. You laid under him, exposed and needy, and Wriothesley started from kissing your lips until they swell. His tongue slipped inside your mouth to tease yours, he sucked on your lips and bit the lower one to hear you gasping. Wriothesley's fingers were caressing your breasts, pinching your nipples lightly only to prepare them for his tongue. He sucked on them alternately, playing with them with his tongue and wetting with saliva. Before entering you Wriothesley had always spared a moment for teasing you by using his mouth. He opened your thighs with droplets of your wetness glistening shamelessly on your skin, his lips reached your swollen clit immediately. He licked on your pussy hungrily, adding stimulation but denying you cum. Wriothesley sucked on your clit, licked on it while his fingers circled around your clenching hole, then stuffed you and bumped on the sensitive spots inside. When he replaced his fingers on his tongue, Wriothesley showed it inside as far as possible, pressing his lips firmly to your opening and fucking you on his tongue.

Your wet pussy took his massive cock easily and hugged it tightly. Wriothesley felt the pulsation of your overstimulated walls and pounded on you in a calm rhythm, leisure even, to let you feel all the pleasure when his cock hit on your deepest parts. Once you begged for more, Wriothesley went faster, going hard, his hands on your hips pressed you down on his cock roughly. The faster and rougher pace drove you mad, you couldn't hold your screams in your throat. Wriothesley could go on you for hours before cumming, and you accepted all of him, as your pussy couldn't get enough of his cock. Usually quiet, Wriothesley became loud when he was close to release, his grip on your body was so tight it left bruises on your skin. You were the first to cum, and your climax on his cock made him cum too, scorching your spasming pussy with his seed.

From your side you tried to do everything for him, showed him as much affection as you could, but the feeling of falseness accompanied you at your every deed and made you sick of yourself. Wriothesley couldn't have enough of you, he needed to be with you for the whole day and even at night he was hugging you to his chest so tightly you couldn't escape. His sleep was light and he woke up every time you left the bed. Wriothesley shared your every hobby, and you did the same with his, even though you didn't like them. When you wanted to go for a walk, he came with you even if it interrupted his own plans. He tried to do everything together with you: cooking, cleaning, resting, sleeping and being awake. Wriothesley wasn't tired of you, but you felt the opposite. All the hours he spent at work were just like a pure blessing from Archons – it were hours of tranquility and silence. You were afraid to ask for more private space: you still felt that you owed him. He had plenty of money that he spent on you without any hesitation, he restored your family manor and treated you like a queen. You didn't have to work, but you searched for a job – of course, Wriothesley noticed it. He sat you up in the Fortress of Meropide, so you two could see each at work too. It was the best job a woman could dream about: with a good salary and easy duties to perform. When he had a free minute he always came to your office, knowing perfectly that you had already finished your job and were helping other girls with their stuff. If you refused to spend a lunch time with him, referring to the strains of work, you felt stink-eye gazes from your colleagues which lead to a self-loathing.

In the storm of complicated feelings, the only one, that had never left you, was guilt.

[fluffysucker]

There's nothing like this

Bucky Barnes x Reader (AU) Boxer/Biker! Bucky Barnes x Chef! Reader Part of the Miss Americana & The heartbreak Prince. AKA Bucky and his princess ALL ONESHOTS CAN BE READ AS STAND-ALONE

Bucky looks at you and your relationship

Written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female. Likes, comments, reblogs are VERY VERY highly appreciated. Opinions really matter to me.

Been sitting on this one for a while now.Anyway hope you look it.

HEAVILY based on Hozier's song 'Two sweet'. Because look at me and tell this song isn't so Bucky and his princess.

Main Masterlist

It was absurd. It was unusual. It was odd. It was unconventional. It was everything but normal.

However, it made perfect sense for both of them.

He was focused. He was determined. He was in the ring. He held his hands up near his face, calculating his next steps carefully. If he played it right, the fight was his with the least effort.

And he did. Because right now, he was the legend. The icon. The unbeatable. He was James Barnes. He was, as many like to call him, the Winter Soldier.

The opposite man never stood a chance to begin with. He knew it. Everybody knew it. It's a sad day in any player's life when they are paired with Barnes.

His legacy was unequal. His reputation preceded him. His demeanor spoke loudly. His appearance made it clear. His strong body and physique. His toned muscles. His broad shoulders. His long hair. His cold stare.

Everything about him prompted fear to the hearts of all players who sought this game as a profession.

He was untouchable. He was unconquerable. He was the Winter Soldier. He was James Barnes.

Winning this fight in record time with a final blow from his left arm, which the opponent wouldn't recover from, wasn't what was abnormal about this.

The abnormality came from the girl in the pink dress and bright makeup who sat in the first row and cheered for Barnes like her life was dependent on it.

Finally, you were able to get to this place in your relationship where Bucky was okay with you watching him fight.

You thought you had lost your hearing when Bucky told you that you could come and watch for the first time. You were playfully nagging him about it like you usually did whenever he had fights coming up. You never expected him to give in and agree this time. It took you a couple of seconds to react. Only regaining composure when he offered to take it back. Over your dead body. You had been waiting for this long enough.

Bucky couldn't understand how or why someone would get this happy and excited to watch a boxing match. Especially someone like you. Someone so sweet and adorable.

Your excited squeals and up-and-down jumping in the kitchen of his apartment once he told you left him surprised in a pleasant way.

You really did love him so much that you wanted to risk being in such a place only to support him. Not that he would let anything happen to you. Never in a million years. But a person like you could never belong to places like these. And you were smart enough to know that.

But you didn't care. You had been asking for this for a long time. You meant every word you said. You wanted to support him, be there for him, and cheer for him. You wanted it.

You wanted to be a part of every aspect of Bucky's life. Because you loved everything about him.

And letting you come and watch him felt like a great victory and a big step forward. All your patience and understanding paid off.

And you continued. Letting Bucky decide whenever you could join. Let him have one of the guys pick you up and drop you off. Let him assign another one to stay with you.

It made you laugh inside. One of them would show up at your restaurant's door at the agreed-upon time and take you to the Stark property. Then, once you reached inside, another would be waiting for you to accompany you the whole time you were here. Most of the time, it was either Steve or Sam. Given that Bucky trusted them the most and you were closest to them,.

The whole thing felt very funny to you. You felt like a child being handed around from one to the other. But you were okay with it. You knew that was the only way for Bucky to let you come here. So you didn't mind. Whatever would put his mind at ease and would allow you to support your boyfriend. You were fine with it.

Bucky always made sure he planned it right. He made sure you arrived at the right time when you were able to watch his full fight from the start, but nothing before it. You were here only for him, and it should stay like this. He didn't like the idea of you seeing other messy, brutal fights. That was also why he made sure he brought you to fights that were easy. He knew he was winning. Fights that he came out of with barely a scratch.

Of course, you noticed this pattern of choices. But you didn't bring it. And you wouldn't. At least for now.

However, the most important thing for Bucky was making sure someone stayed with you at all times until you left. If Sam or Steve were unavailable to do this job for any reason, you weren't coming. It wasn't up to debate.

He knew the people who frequented Stark Property. They would eat you alive. Your lovability and tenderness would draw them to you like a deer in a wolf den. And they wouldn't be kind. And Bucky couldn't have this. If anyone said something to you, let alone tried to lay a hand on you, Bucky would burn the whole place down. No hesitation. No thoughts. Everybody would be in great danger.

Just like he was untouchable, you were too. And even more.

Knowing so, Sam and Steve took their assignments seriously. Because while both men loved you and cared for you, they were aware of Bucky's nature. It was no joke to him. God forbid he turn around mid-fight and see you sitting alone. They wouldn't hear the end of it. There were very few things the three men considered to be a threat to their long and strong friendship; this was one of them.

So today, after the referee announced him the winner, he turned to the crowd that was applauding him. His eyes immediately caught you. Standing in between Yelena and Sam in your puff-sleeved, heart-shaped neckline, filled with rose-flower pink dress, matching your shiny pinkish makeup. Your hair braided at the top and rest falling freely on your back. The necklace with his initials resting on the pit of your neck. You were cheering for him like he won the world's most prestigious prize.

Bucky was trying to fight his smile and not break character. You looked unbelievably cute. With your happy smile, bright eyes, and nonstop clapping, it was all for him. You did it for him.

Everybody was cheering for James Barnes or the Winter Soldier, while you were cheering for Bucky.

And he was so grateful.

Bucky left the ring, only throwing a wink at you on his way inside. While Bucky didn't show much affection towards you in here, everyone connected the dots.

You were the boxer's girl. And you held that with pride

Once Bucky was inside, some of the guys came out, making you all head out to the bar to continue the night there.

You were in the middle of a conversation with Wanda when you felt the familiar, strong arms wrap around your waist.

"Hey, princess." Bucky whispered in your ear as he pulled you close to his chest, laying soft kisses on your exposed neck.

You smiled at Wanda, who took this as her cue to give you two spaces. Because in here with the people he mostly trusted, Bucky wasn't shy about giving you all his attention and affection. In other words, it gets sickeningly sweet and loving.

"Hey, babe." You turned around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck while his hands tightened around your waist.

"You were so great in there." You said this as you gave his lips a little peck.

"You liked it?" Bucky asked as he kept giving you small kisses.

"Yes, I wanted to shout at everyone to look at how strong my boyfriend is." You were laughing as you tried to speak between his kisses.

"I think they already know." Bucky couldn't help himself when he buried his face in your neck, kissing it softly.

"Well, they need to hear it from me." You felt the vibration of his laugh on your neck.

You moved a bit so he could look at you. You wanted to say this to his face.

"I'm so proud of you." You were looking into his eyes as you said it.

The playful smile on Bucky's face turned into something genuine. The care and love you gave after the fights touched him immensely. Nobody ever treated him like that. So gently. It was puzzling how, after watching a fight like this, you still chose to love him so sweetly.

It was an active choice you kept making. He didn't understand why, but he would never complain.

He leaned forward to capture your lips and kiss you softly yet passionately. He wanted to stay like this forever.

As the night went on, you and Bucky separated, travelling to different circles of people. But that didn't mean Bucky didn't keep his eyes off you.

Which was what led to where he was now.

Bucky was sitting in one of the booths, observing you. The back booth gave him the opportunity to see everything.

You were standing with his friends. People who were so different from you yet here you were, getting along greatly with all of them. You were talking to all of them, laughing, and sharing jokes.

Bucky couldn't help the smile on his face when he saw you struggling to give Clint an opinion about the dish he made and presented to you.

But you being you. You managed to find something nice to say about the barely edible food, making Clint's smile bigger than the sky.

You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate.

The rest of you like you're the TSA.

Bucky kept watching you. He watched as you listened carefully to Peter's stories, and how you interacted and was fully invested. He watched as Pepper stole you to ask about a cake recipe for Morgan, which you happily provided.

Then he watched as you rejoined Natasha at the bar, picking up where you left off in the conversation with her.

It wasn't just the colors you wore that made you stand out. It was everything.

I wish that I could go along, babe, don't get me wrong

You know, you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain

Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape

Bucky couldn't take his eyes off you. How you listened to everyone. How you treated everyone. How swiftly you got along with everyone. How compassionate and accepting you were. How sweet you were.

And you were all his.

Bucky kept looking at you as you were walking towards him.

"I brought you another one." You said this as you put the two cups on the table. His neat whisky and your raspberry martini.

Before you could sit down, Bucky pulled you to himself, ushering for you to sit on his lap. You gladly did.

His arms came around your waist, and yours around his shoulders. Your floral scent evaded his senses. It was the opposite of his. Strong scent like the woods and black coffee.

Your pink dress clashed with his all-black outfit. You felt too bright for the dark spot he was sitting in.

Everything about the two of you didn't make any sense. Not even in the slightest. You were the polar opposite.

You were nice. He was stiff. You were friendly. He was feared. You were understanding. He was strict. You were smiley. He was sullen. You were vulnerable. He was a closed book.

You were everything he wasn't. He was everything you weren't.

There was nothing like this.

And somehow, that made you perfect.

You brought lights he had never seen in his life before. You created happiness he never thought of. You led him to feelings he didn't know existed. You gave him love, which he always claimed he was unworthy of.

You changed his life. You turned his life upside down. In the best way possible.

Bucky wished there were enough words in the world to tell you how much he loved you. Bucky wished there were enough ways he could express his gratitude for you. Bucky wished there were enough time to show you how much he cherished you.

Bucky wished that one day you would ever comprehend how your sweetness saved him. How you were everything to him

"You're too sweet for me." Bucky spoke slowly as he kissed you.

[lakesbian]

ok the post i was going to make after i woke up. the reason why i've been rooting 4 sy and jessie becoming A Thing for the large recent duration of my twig read is that i liked how the dynamic was being established between them in a way that could clearly lead into a functional romance where other relationships sy has couldn't.

at one point, sy notes that he couldn't imagine a world where he was able to spend a full uninterrupted day with lillian (His Actual Girlfriend at the time) without either ruining it by upsetting her or becoming exhausted from putting effort into not upsetting her & having a terrible time himself. with jessie, after she runs away to tynewear for sy, the main point of their dynamic that wildbow hammers in over and over again is that she's someone who can spend months alone with sy and hold her ground both intellectually and emotionally without her starting to loathe him, her becoming exhausted from effort, or him becoming exhausted from effort.

and as for the reason as to Why that is. it's partially because perfect memory is very useful for interacting with sy on a daily basis, but it's also in large part because she has an Anti Sy Bullshit Field sort of personality. it's really endearing dynamic writing how she's obviously in love with him, and it never once causes her to budge where she wants to take a stand. i really fucking like the scene where she's talking to noreen to earn her cooperation after sy being a manipulative ass didn't work, and she outright agrees w noreen that a lot of the time she doesn't like sy either, with the implicit "but" (because her dialogue pattern prior had been a series of "buts" like "he's the darkest bastard i know, but he makes me laugh") being "but i love him."

and i can actually see why sy's earned that love during the tynewear arcs despite not always being very likable--when he does things like grip her by the cheeks and force her to say "okay" to being saved from the plague where anyone else would have left her for dead, it's completely understandable how she loves him despite (and sometimes because of) the fact that he frequently does shit that makes her threaten to beat him with an umbrella. i was rooting 4 them because the book was repeatedly intentionally stating that sy clearly needs a partner who's naturally enough of an intelligent hardass to be resistant to his bullshit while still caring for him deeply and enjoying his company, and jessie obviously met those criteria.

and like. this Is stated explicitly. right before the book shits itself in this department, sy horrendously upsets lillian during the "i don't like the me that says yes to sy" scene, and jessie 1. accurately bluntly explains to sy why he's on unequal footing with lillian in a way that's deeply unfair to lillian and 2. accurately implies that She is someone who would be compatible with and fair for sy to date.

where the problem comes in is that after this, sy absconds for no reason and goes on the inane slogging adventure of arc 14, while jessie is forced to be the one who chases after him, the one who apologizes and makes up for the absolutely atrocious way sy treated her over both the possibility and the outright suggestion of them dating, and the one who bends over backwards to nervously pose her transitioning as a solution to the Irreparable Friendship Ruining Gap of her being attracted to sy while they're both boys. he doesn't even become interested in her afterwards, he's not interested in her yet at the point in the story where i'm at like 15 chapters after her transition! the unrequited love is still there, it's just that it's somehow infinitely more tolerable for him if it's not coming from a boy. (sylvester lambsbridge trans-positive homophobe: very funny choice, not a good one.) yes, it's made clear that she would really genuinely like to transition for a number of other reasons as well, but it's a scene that's part of a series of scenes where, instead of getting to play the interesting hardass that calls sy out on how absolutely fucked it is that he literally intentionally mentally infantilized himself to shoot the possibility of acknowledging a boy having feelings for him in the foot--the hardass that expects him to have the faintest ounce of accountability to both her and lillian--she just. bends over backwards to accommodate and apologize and repair things with him, without him having to put in any meaningful effort despite being the one who caused the fight he ran away over in the first place.

and then after that. even after she slips a memory and becomes afraid of literally fucking dying within the next three days. she's STILL just fucking politely intermittently hoping that Maybe something will happen if sy, but no problem at all if not, she doesn't want to force anything! like i just feel bad for her at this point man. it does not feel good to watch, and it definitely does not feel coherent with what was established about her character & why she's a good match for sy previously. and i think the reason it doesn't feel coherent is that wildbow was not properly grasping why sy's treatment of her was hurtful, and he wasn't properly imagining the level of culpability sy would need to accept and act to amend in order for the dynamic to not be off-kilter and deeply unfair to jessie. like, it feels like the perspective twig is implicitly espousing is that just the mere act of sy being able to stand in the same room as jessie without getting awkward about her unrequited feelings IF and only IF she's not a boy is something involving commendable compromise and not below the literal fucking bare minimum of being able to stand in the same room as jessie without getting awkward about her unrequited feelings even if she was a boy. i find it more and more uncomfortable the longer i stew on it. i don't like it. complete fumble of their resolution of their fight and now everything after it feels tainted by that.

[twilightpentagrams]

haaiii!!! could i request a drabble abt rough sex w ritsu x m!reader where reader gives someone else much too much attention instead of ritsu? :3

RITSU SAKUMA X MALE READER : possession

CW: nsfw, bottom reader, top ritsu, blood, biting, rough sex, semi-public sex, possessive behavior, little prep

producing knights always seemed like a sweet and easy gig. they were all so regal yet deep down, friendly and goofy. it was easy to befriend them, no longer having a strict professional barrier. it evolved into getting ice cream with tsukasa, shopping for beauty products and clothes with arashi, helping leo compose new and unique music for the unit; and so on.

it was a comfortable and stable relationship. they were your friends as you were theirs. of course, it could be easy to get wrapped up in it all, which oftentimes found you neglecting a member or two — a painless offense. they all had other friends and other duties, especially arashi and izumi with their frequent photoshoots and variety shows.

time just simply got away from you sometimes, especially when tsukasa was always asking to help you with his work or to go to a sweets club meeting. it was easy to be around him, and you enjoyed your time with him.

it was a painless guilty pleasure, one that wasn’t meant to be malicious or negligent towards the other knights members! sometimes you just had a hard time scheduling meetups with the others.

well, it was painless for all except for one member, the one who currently had you cornered against the wall of the now empty practice room.

“produucer~” the vampiric boy whined, rutting himself against you. it felt so, so good, just simply the feeling of him frantically grinding against you had you excited. “you’ve been ignoring me. so so rude of you, producer-kun.”

you craned your neck, feeling warm breath tickle the expose skin above your uniform. before you could apologize for being busy and spending unequal amounts of time with others, ritsu spoke first.

“it’s okay producer~ i know you’re so busy with all your work,” he spoke in between kisses and small nips, “but you’re mine, okay? made just for me.”

a needy and breathy whine escaped your throat, only serving to make the boy more frantic in undressing you. he stripped your blazer and shrugged it to the ground before loosening your tie and unbuttoning your shirt. before long, the cool air of the practice room hit your exposed chest.

ritsu played with your chest, rolling a nipple between his fingers, “mmm,” he hummed. “such a good boy, all mine, okay? no one else.” you shuddered as the hands exploring your exposed torso moved south, cupping and palming at your erection through your trousers.

you were painfully hard.

“so hard for me, hmm?” ritsu spoke softly, “you want this, producer? is that why you tease me by being so friendly with suuchan and the others?”

you nodded, a moan building in your throat. the only thoughts in your mind was need, need, need. you needed ritsu. you needed to feel good.

ritsu bit the soft skin of your neck, allowing hot blood to flow down your collar and chest — not that it mattered much, it ended up being smeared away from how much he was groping and touching your body, trying to drink in every inch.

after what seemed like eons of being toyed with, in a rough motion he flipped you over and needily stripped you of your pants, leaving you exposed. he continued to bite your neck and jaw, gifting you dark marks that would blossom into pretty bruises.

in one swift motion, he pushed himself into you. it burned and felt like you were being split in two. you gasped out a cry that quickly turned into slutty moans and whimpers. ritsu rutted into you like he was a dying man, not caring about your pleasure and only seeking his own. he did wrap a steady hand around your length, but the combination of the two points of stimulation was almost painful.

ritsu hummed between his pants and gasps, eventually quieting himself by biting your shoulder.

“such a good boy, but you need to be quiet. can’t have anyone hear us, hmm?” he teased between moans. “such a good boy for me. you take me like we were made for eachother.”

in a desperate and lustful haze, ritsu quickly met his climax shortly before you hit yours. he continued to ride the high, fucking his cum into your hole until you screamed with pleasure and overstimulation. he held you against the wall for a few minutes, panting heavily and soaking in the smell of sex and sweat.

you devoted a lot more time to ritsu after that.

[uriekukistan]

Hope your day or night is going well!! ✨

Okay, top five Megumi lines/scenes?

ahhh thank you i hope yours is as well!! and thank you for the ask!!

im in the car rn so some of these i couldn’t track down the specific chapter/page bc i dont wanna use all my data :’)

1 - “i’m not like itadori, i have no problem earning 100 points for myself.” or something along that line

one of the things that fascinates me the most about megumi is the way he places value on lives, and this line is just so cool to me. he’d said before this that he saves people unequally, but this shows just how far that goes. he’ll kill anywhere from 20-100 random people so tsumiki and itadori, the two people he cares about and thinks are worth saving more than anyone else, don’t have to get their hands dirty, and their lives hold more value to him than others. it’s also so interesting to me because of the way megumi doesn’t consider himself a good person like tsumiki or itadori, and therefore doesn’t really see himself as worth saving, so it’s just a necessary burden he has to carry as the “bad” person for those two. also add that in w this line, and im on the floor

2 - his battle vs sukuna at the detention facility/“i’m not a hero, i’m a jujutsu sorcerer”

another moment where we get an insight into his ideas on good/bad people and who deserves saving, can you tell i love this aspect of his character? i mean, he’s about to sacrifice himself for itadori to live (hopefully), even though he literally met the guy two weeks ago, because he thinks he’s a good person who deserves saving. it’s the first insight we get into megumi’s thought process, and this was really the moment that made me start paying attention to him more. i also love how he kept a softer expression on his face and didn’t cry until after itadori died, like he didnt want itadori to feel sad or guilty in his final moments im SICK also the fact that he took the name-tag to that guys mom even though he didnt have an interest in saving him, like he was paying a respect to itadori….ugh…anyway yeah i love dissecting the way he values life.

3 - “so start by saving me, itadori”

see as an itafushist of course this had to make the list like this whole chapter has me on the floor but anyway aside from that, i love thinking about this scene because the words he’s saying seem so contrary to how he thinks? like he’s asking to be saved but he doesn’t think he’s worth saving? so it needs an extra layer of consideration. i feel like he really said this more to motivate yuuji (and save tsumiki) than actually wanting to be saved himself. plus the “it’s our fault, don’t be selfish and give up all alone” aaahhahahsj i just love this moment i feel like it shows his character very well….when the idgafer actually very much gaf….

4 - his first domain expansion

hellooo this was so sick and cool and badass of him like i dont think there’s anything i need to say for this. huge character development moment for him too. add this with the simple domain he had in dagon’s domain + the part in the culling games arc where he literally hides himself in the shadows……he’s crazy powerful and i dont wanna hear anything abt it! if u were traumatized like that you’d be curled up on the floor too

5 - “if you die, i’ll kill you” both times

again as an itafushist i couldnt not include this….of course there’s implications for megumi’s character as well but i feel like there’s only so much i can talk about his moral code in one post yk? but yeah i think it just shows how much the people he cares about matter to him

also bonus i love just any culling games megumi, his determination to save tsumiki and make it so itadori doesnt have to kill anyone makes him grow so much as a character and as a sorcerer, i love it sm

thank u for the ask! any excuse to yap about megumi 🤞

[madameaug]

Jungkook's Random Morning w/ Peanut

Pairing: Jungkook + Peanut

AN: Italics represent Jungkook speaking in Korean :)

Fatherhood surprisingly reversed Jungkook's late-night habits. His career as a boxer undoubtedly helped, but fatherhood would be why he states if asked. Peanut can get quite gasy, leading to her be fusy. Jungkook would hear her congested whines and walk across the hallway to her room.

"Bicycle kicks." In a back-and-forth motion, Jungkook moves Peanut's chunky legs. She let out tiny grunts before releasing a powerful funky fart.

"P.U Peanut." Jungkook fanned his nose. Peanut let out a sigh of release. Now that Peanut was in that stage of tummy time, Jungkook would lay a soft blanket on the carpet. Place Peanut on her stomach and do a couple of simple mobility stretches. He had to stay as loose and limber as possible. He was doing mock punches in the air, staying light on his feet. He was far enough to ensure he didn't accidentally step on little Peanut. Oh, his heart would be crushed, and Jennette would actually murder him.

Once his heart rate was elevated, Jungkook noticed Peanut turning her head. There was a slight shake in her neck, but for the most part, she had it down-packed. Peanut was such an easygoing baby.

Getting down on his stomach, Jungkook was face to face with Peanut. Her glossy, dark brown eyes were concentrated on his face. As if her little eyes were trying to take mental pictures of his face.

Jungkook was falling in love within seconds. Jungkook was a firm believer in the multiple loves a person can experience. It is platonic, one that he shared with his friends from Korea. The six older guys truly took Jungkook under their wing. Namjoon, Seokin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung were like brothers to him. Big brothers who were amazing uncles to his Peanut.

Romantic love is next, the one that he's experiencing with Jennette. He had an average dating life, a couple of girlfriends after high school, and a few series ones when he was a novice boxer. Yet none of them stuck around or even evolved past physical attraction. Jennette was truly a friend in the beginning of their relationship. A social worker and boxer, a weird combination that no one initially thought would sprout onto something further. She loved him as much as she pretended to downplay it. She loved him, and Jungkook could shout from the rooftops how much he returned those feelings. He was going to marry Jennette one day, one day soon.

And finally was paternal love. He was basking in the one every day since Peanut took her first breath. Every spit-up, changing of shitty diapers and foul-odored farts rarely phased him. Jungkook embraced every moment of this stage in Peanut's life. This brief time Peanut is totally dependent on him. During this brief time Peanut's only method of communication is a whine, cry, or smile. These were the moments that would become invaluable.

"I love you Peanut"

In slow motion, Peanut started to lean over. The unequal weight distribution caused her to rock slightly. With his natural dad instincts, Jungkook used one hand to catch the side of her face before she tilted over. Jungkook's thumb rubbed over her cheek.

He kept repeating his love for Peanut.

"I love you Peanut"

"I love you Peanut"

"I love you Peanut"

"I love you Peanut"

[kidstemplatte]

Terzo becoming a dad of twin girls!! Pweaaase? 🥰

dad! terzo w/ twin daughters

(implications of female reader)

this was so fun to write! thank you, anon! 🥺i hope you enjoy and it didn’t disappoint! <3

he absolutely cries when he finds out you two are having twins.

he’s so nervous. worried he won’t be a good father. these babies haven’t even been born yet and they’ve become his whole world.

you have to eat more during a twin pregnancy. this man FEEDS YOU.

i feel like he can cook. he’s always making you the best (italian) food, making sure you’re eating enough.

he does so much research he ends up knowing things YOU didn’t know.

he’s always nose deep into some parenting book or staying up in the late hours of the night reading articles.

soon he has mastered the art of carrying two babies at once.

he is such a funny dad. so funny. will do ANYTHING to make his girls laugh.

they love playing dress up!

except he’s the one being dressed up.💀

he makes an absolute show of it. he loves hearing his daughters laugh and he’ll do anything to make it happen.

“you know, you kind of rock a tutu.” you say, walking in during one of their makeovers.

to save time getting ready in the mornings, he learns how to do their hair, and before you know it, he’s a BEAST at it and can braid hair in a matter of seconds.

god forbid they get a hold of his face paint.

he leaves them alone for ONE moment. ONE minute. he comes back. they are both covered in black and white paint.

“ay, nononononono, not before school!!”

the girls want to be ghoulettes for halloween. every year.

“girls, what about something else? we can get you any costume you want. anything in the world.”

“ghoulettes.” they’d say in unison.

he spoils them rotten, buys them endless toys, matching stuffed animals, dolls… but in the process, falls in love with a specific brand:

i don’t even know how i came up with this, but i feel like terzo would love monster high dolls.

he’s in the store… mindlessly walking through the toy aisle. vet barbie, pilot barbie, pool party barbie, doctor barbie...

when all of a sudden, he lays eyes on something new. something exciting.

a “monster high” doll.

now that’s cool.

probably keeps two in his office, each of his girls’ favorite characters.

i lowkey feel like he enjoys some of the shows they watch. i can see him rocking with my little pony.

he loves playing with the girls. he loves their imagination.

gets VERY invested in the barbie storylines they come up with. does high pitched voices when he’s acting out the girl dolls and it makes the twins laugh until they’re rolling on the ground.

he also keeps all the drawings they make him, every single one. they’re also on display in his office.

he knows what it feels like to feel unequal to his siblings so he is very careful to make sure they both get the same amount of love and attention. ❤️

if they fight as they get older, he doesn’t get involved. he knows girls are scary when they’re mad. he lets you handle that. 💀

very invested in the school gossip when they get to that age. when he picks them up from school he’s always eager to know what happened.

protective. VERY anti-boy.

“wait, you said… DATING?” he says when the girls mention a new couple one day.

“yeah dad, we’re in 7th grade now.”

“yeah, dad.”

“NO BOYS! not now, not ever. they are stupid and ugly and think about nothing but themselves.” (he knows this because he was one💀)

(you know the scene from the movie “coco” where the grandma says “no music” over and over again? yeah, replace “music” with “boys”. same energy.)

teaches them about girl power from an early age.

of course, their mother leads the conversation, but he’s so dedicated to help these girls understand their worth. that they can be anything they want.

he already considered himself a feminist before having his daughters, but after having them, he is THE #1 feminist.

when they start talking about crushes, you have to explain to terzo that it’s normal and bound to happen one day.

he just loves his girls so much, he doesn’t want them to grow up🥲

but, uh…

god forbid any boy breaks one of their hearts.

oh, he is not above pulling the satan card on a 13 year old boy.

but you know, one quick google search of “emeritus” will do the trick. any boy will be sure to understand why messing with either of terzo’s girls is a death wish.🥰

___________________________________

i hope you enjoyed and this brought some light to your day!!! honestly i’m a little obsessed😭 hope you’re doing well!! remember you’re loved!!!❤️❤️❤️

[1966jpg]

Critical Theory Recommended Reading List:

Principles of Communism (Friedrich Engels)

Wage-Labour and Capital Value, Price and Profit (Karl Marx)

Das Kapital (Karl Marx)

The Communist Manifesto (Karl Marx)

On Practice & On Contradiction (Mao Zedong)

The Motorcycle Diaries (Che Guevara)

Latin America Diaries (Che Guevara)

Reminiscences of the Cuban Revolutionary War (Che Guevara)

Guerilla Warfare (Che Guevara)

Che (Jon Lee Anderson)

Socialism: Utopian and Scientific (Friedrich Engels)

The Origin of the Family, Private Property and the State (Friedrich Engels)

Orientalism (Edward W. Said)

The Unwomanly Face of War (Svetlana Alexievich)

The Wretched of The Earth (Frantz Fanon)

A Dying Colonialism (Frantz Fanon)

Black Skin White Masks (Frantz Fanon)

Inglorious Empire (Shashi Tharoor)

Remembering Che (Aleida March)

Against Empire (Michael Parenti)

Blackshirts & Reds (Michael Parenti)

Revolutionary Suicide (Huey P. Newton)

Confessions of an Economic Hitman (John Perkins)

The Mismeasure of Man (Stephen Jay Gould)

The State and the Revolution (V.I. Lenin)

Imperialism: The Highest Stage of Capitalism (V.I. Lenin)

Imperialism in The 21st Century (V.I. Lenin)

Liberalism A Counter History (Domenico Losurdo)

23 Things They Don't Tell You About Capitalism (Ha-Joon Chang)

October (China Miéville)

Kill Anything That Moves (Nick Turse)

Blitzed: Drugs in Nazi Germany (Norman Ohler)

Late Victorian Holocausts (Mike Davis)

Ten Myths About Israel (Ilan Pappe)

How Europe Underdeveloped Africa (Walter Rooney)

Reform or Revolution (Rosa Luxemburg)

Settlers: The Mythology of the White Proletariat (J. Sakai)

Killing Hope (William Blum)

Unequal Exchange and the Prospects of Socialism (Arghiri Emmanuel)

Unequal Exchange: A Study of Imperialism and Trade (Arghiri Emmanuel)

The Wealth of Some Nations (Zak Cope)

Divided World Divided Class (Zak Cope)

The Law of Worldwide Value (Samir Amin)

Unequal Development (Samir Amin)

An Economic History of the U.S.S.R (Alec Nove)

Human Rights in the Soviet Union (Albert Szymanski)

Is the Red Flag Flying? (Albert Szymanski)

Soviet Democracy (Pat Sloan)

The Industrialisation of Soviet Russia: The Socialist Offensive (R.W. Davies)

Soviet Communism: A New Civilisation (Sidney and Beatrice Webb)

Socialism in the Soviet Union (Jonathan Aurthur)

The Soviet Form of Popular Government (The U.S.S.R Academy of Sciences)

Workers Participation in the Soviet Union (Mick Costello)

The Great Conspiracy (Michael Sayers and Albert E. Kahn)

The Soviets and Ourselves: Two Commonwealths (K.E. Holme)

The Old Social Classes and the Revolutionary Movements of Iraq (Hanna Baratu)

South Yemen A Marxist Republic in Arabia (Robert W. Stookey)

The Arab Left (Tareq Y. Ismael)

Post-Marxism and The Middle East (Feleh A. Jabar)

The Unmaking of Arab Socialism (Ali Kodri)

The Hundred Years' War on Palestine (Rashid Khalidi)

The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine (Ilan Pape)

A Strategy for the Liberation of Palestine (The Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine)

Roadside Picnic (Arkady and Boris Strugatsky)

Blood in My Eye (George Jackson)

Why You Should Be a Trade Unionist (Len McCluskey)

The Pitfalls of Liberalism (Kwame Ture)

[boypussydilf]

there’s a specific air of finality to simon & bettys ending that doesnt really. sit right with me? like, it makes sense for the conclusion to be Simon And Betty Must Go Their Separate Ways. but w her going some unknown place he cant follow (and. ppppppossibly reincarnating? which. it would be fucking insult to injury if betty was just dead now. i would be genuinely pissed.) and the general air of it it feels so much like they’re saying. Simon and Betty can’t ever see each other again. It is literally impossible from here on. and the whole way they talk about it…… like. yes, absolutely, simon and betty both put themselves in a tragic situation through their own imperfect choices. but it gets talked about like they’re simply. too far gone now and there just is no conceivable way it could ever work, or could ever have worked as it was. maybe im insane and maybe this wasnt the writers intention but the way they. siiiiiiggghhhhhhh. of course it’s true that their relationship would have been better if simon had noticed betty sacrificing so much for him, had focused on her own goals and wishes, had sacrificed back. but they act like. Welp! He should have just Known Better. He’s just stupid. they’re not interested in looking at why he never noticed how she was throwing away so much of her life for him, how he thought she was the most amazing wonderful confident badass person ever. or that their relationship had any problems in it other than this one specific thing!!!! it feels like theyre just. blaming simon for being ignorant and going Look!! Because of these choices you made you’re FUCKED! FOREVER! You and Betty were NEVER going to- CHRIST, NO, THAT REALLY IS LITERALLY WHAT THEY WERE FUCKING SAYING, DIRECTLY, WITH THE CASPER AND NOVA THING. That frames it so much like Simon, all on his own, DOOMED them to NEVER EVER BE ABLE TO BE HAPPY EVER, they would NEVER HAVE BEEN ABLE TO HAVE A HAPPY ENDING UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, because he was just oblivious to the unequal give-and-take in their relationship.

[thepringlesofblood]

An Attempt at Explaining Bulbian Church Theology

so I watched ACOC a year or two ago, and I watched TRW as it came out, and now I’m going back and re-watching ACOC with that context in mind, and I have many questions.

a few disclaimers

this shit rules. it’s wild how much thought and effort Brennan & Matt put into Bulbian theology and the history and inner workings of the church. at no point am I implying anything to the contrary. this is “tf, guys? (affectionate)” not “tf, guys? (derogatory)”

the order of things is fucked up bc prequel, and bc Matt necessarily did a bunch of it w/out Brennan bc he was a PC. some things have the simple Doylist explanation of “Brennan didn’t think they were ever coming back to that bit” or “it’s a metric fuckload of lore written several years before Matt came onto the project, of course some things are going to contradict.” I know and agree with these reasons. I am coming at this from as Watsonian a perspective as I can - trying to find in-world reasons for things rather than real-life reasons - because I think it’s a fun thought exercise.

at no point am I talking shit about either Brennan or Matt. ik people have a lot of feelings about Matt’s DMing in TRW, but I think he did great, and he added some fascinating new lore about the theology of Calorum which I am eager to sink my teeth into. he seems like a cool dude, he and Brennan wrote some extremely cool lore, and that’s all I’ll say about that.

so. let’s get crack-a-lackin’

Let’s define our terms.

we got our two Big Terms from ACOC - the Prophidian Heresy and the Ramsian Doctrine. The Prophidian Heresy is the only one to re-appear in TRW, as the Prophidian Theodicy. this is bc it was not declared to be heresy (aka fake/against the church’s beliefs) yet, so it was just another theory within the church

we’ve got about four big factions, very unequal in power:

Belizabeth Brassica (& the church under her rule)

the Sanctis Putris

the Archbishop Camille Colliflour (aka the Avatar of Deus Pa’Zuul)

The Few Good Individuals in The Church*

we’re mostly talking about Brassica and Sanctis Putris.

*Saint Citrina, local churches in Candia, certain Bulbians in the Dairy Islands, individual churches here and there across the continent that are mentioned as rejecting the Ramsian Doctrine in ACOC.

The Prophidian Heresy/Theodicy

What it says:

The Hungry One is just as powerful as The Bulb

Reasoning:

this is an attempt to explain the questions of “if the Bulb is good and all-powerful, why are there bad things in the world? If the Bulb is more powerful than the Hungry One, why hasn’t it beat the shit out of him yet, if it is truly a force for good?”

What it means in the world:

this is a part of Brassica’s plot to start the apocalypse, but is not the most important thing for her.

It is however important for the beliefs of the Sanctis Putris, who fight to keep the Hungry One at bay.

Questions/observations:

In ACOC Ep.13, when Brennan first mentions the Sanctis Putris, he describes them as “an order of the Church that did not subscribe to the Prophidian Heresy at all. It looks like they are not about the Ramsian Doctrine and causing the apocalypse.”

I think this is a mixing up of words, and that he meant to say “the Ramsian Doctrine” both times, since the Sanctis Putris is against the Ramsian Doctrine. at this point in the campaign the two beliefs have gotten kind of conflated bc they’re both part of the big Brassica Apocalypse Plot.

the in-world explanation could be that after the war the Sanctis Putris pivoted to a different belief - perhaps that the Hungry One is more powerful than the Bulb. very interesting...

in TRW ep 3 Colliflour says “We know the clarity of the Prophidian Theodicy and the terrible shadow that grows outside of the Bulb's light”

so we do know that before the war at least the Sanctis Putris were into it.

The Ramsian Doctrine

What it says:

The Hungry One cannot be destroyed and the final salvation of all souls cannot occur until the Hungry One devours the world

Some souls are healthy and delicious, but some are unhealthy and garbage - Junk Food (Candians)

The Junk Food souls prevent the Hungry One from devouring the world because it wants a “healthy meal” 

Reasoning:

in order to work towards this prized final salvation of all souls and destruction of the Hungry One, one must first work towards the apocalypse. Junk Food must be eradicated from the world for that to happen - whether by conversion to the Bulbian faith* or by death.

*it’s at least implied by Calroy’s letter to Brassica in ep. 13 that since he “renounced his pagan ways” and wants to be re-baptized in the Bulbian faith, he gets to live. whether this is true or not we do not find out.

What it means in the world:

This is the excuse Brassica needs to invade and destroy Candia and its magic. Fun fact: she was actually planning to launch a crusade on the Meatlands too before she got got.

Meat isn’t junk food (i don’t think??), so it’s clear that what she’s really after is destroying the rest of Calorum’s ability to access magic - making it so they have to go through the church to get “miracles” rather than using the magic of the deities in their homelands. that’s not Ramsian, it’s just Brassica being power-hungry and mean.

In regards to the Sanctis Putris, they believe they are preventing the apocalypse by bringing rot and mold into the world. they don’t want the Hungry One to devour the world, and since they believe the Hungry One is as powerful as the Bulb, they want to work to bring mold and rot into the world themselves, to give the Bulb a leg up on the opposition, so to speak.

so, the idea that the Hungry One could devour the world, and that that would be a sort of apocalypse, is shared between Brassica and the Sanctis Putris. the difference is, Brassica wants that to happen so the Bulb can finally defeat the Hungry One, and the Sanctis Putris does not want that to happen, so they bring mold and rot into the world so the Hungry One can’t devour it.

Questions/observations:

So while it sounds kind of like the Sanctis Putris are buying into the last tenant of the Ramsian Doctrine - that the Hungry One will only eat a “healthy meal” - they’re not buying into the rest of it, because their definition of “healthy” is different from the one outlined in the rest of the Ramsian Doctrine. The Sanctis Putris don’t seem to care about “Junk Food”, just rot & mold.

TRW ep. 3 Colliflour: “Through prosperity and peace, Calorum becomes ripe and pliable. It becomes the perfect meal to forever roil and burn within its belly. The hidden scripture, the Festered Tome, it holds the truth that will save us all. The Hungry One will not eat that which is spoiled...Only through death can the lands be stained and unclean. Only through rot can the world be saved and endure under the Great Bulb's light”

the Sanctis Putris depend on conflict vs peace and rot vs growth across the whole of Calorum, while the Ramsian Doctrine depends upon specific people (Candians) being eradicated

in ACOC ep. 13 Brennan says this “The correspondence between the Archbishop Oliver Onionpatch and the Sanctus Putris saying the Sanctus Putris has located the home and high temple of the Sugar-Plum Fairy, and have found the Ice Cream Temple. The date they give, they say that their expedition should arrive there the morning of Harvest Dawn the seventh”

onion boy is a Brassica lackey - a Ramsian. swapping letters with the Sanctis Putris, famously anti-Ramsian. ???

my question is this - why are the Sanctis Putris running errands for Brassica if they have fundamentally opposing beliefs? why are they sending out an expedition on the orders of someone trying to start an apocalypse that they’re trying to prevent?

3 potential reasons

blackmail - Brassica says “I am the head of the Church, this is what’s happening, put up or shut up. Do what I want or I eradicate you”

quid pro quo - a favor for a favor, Brassica is giving them something in exchange for them doing this for her

common enemy

it serves the Sanctis Putris to have the Church be more powerful since a lot of their people are in the Church, and of course it serves Brassica to empower the Church. Killing the Sugar Plum Fairy is one way to do that.

im uncertain though, as the Sanctis Putris has people from all over the place, and potentially at least one Candian who is against it.

although, if the Sanctis Putris intend to split with Brassica, if may also not serve them to have the Church be more powerful.

Compare/contrasting Brassica v Sanctis Putris

Both beliefs are Prophidian, since for the Hungry One to eat everything it would need to be at least equal in power to the Bulb (both groups believe in the Bulb’s inherent goodness, and that if it had the power it would stop the Hungry One from doing this).

Both see themselves as helping the Bulb overpower the Hungry One, Brassica by causing the Apocalypse and the Sanctis Putris by preventing it.

Both identify an aspect of the world that is preventing the Hungry One from devouring it. Brassica points to “junk food”, while the Sanctis Putris points to mold and rot.

I saw a post a while back that positioned the two terms as Belizabeth Brassica’s beliefs vs the beliefs of the Sanctis Putris. This is not the case. 

The Ramsian Doctrine [in its totality] is exclusive to Brassica, yes, but the Prophidian Heresy does not encompass the totality of the beliefs of the Sanctis Putris. It just says that the Hungry One is as powerful as the Bulb. the rest of their shit is their own. 

the Sanctis Putris do subscribe the last tenant of the Ramsian Doctrine (that the Hungry One wants a healthy meal), but interpret “healthy” as meaning something else, so I wouldn’t say their beliefs are Ramsian overall, even if one idea overlaps. 

plus, Brassica also needs the Prophidian Heresy to exist, since it offers a reason for why the Bulb doesn’t just come down and make everything better - it can’t, since it and the Hungry One are equal in power.

now where the fuck does Deus Pa’Zuul fall into this?

Brennan described the feeling of discovering Deus Pa’Zuul as “eldritch horror” and frankly I agree. A lot of the genre of eldritch horror revolves around the unknown, and specifically the unknowable, so as a result we the audience know very little about it.

What we do know

it’s a garbage disposal, and all the implications that carries, included but not limited to

the place you dispose of rotten food

the physical description - blades, tearing, ripping, whirring

it is a force of pure destruction. the things it destroys are erased from existence. there is no eternity in the Hungry One’s stomach, no salvation in the light of the Bulb, you just end.

it can interact with the world of Calorum through visions and impart magic like the Bulb and the Hungry One do, but does so very, very rarely.

The only two Calorans we know of that it ever contacted directly were Colliflour and Raphaniel.

the rest of the Sanctis Putris had no clue that this was where their leader was taking them - Gemelli straight up fights it.

Speculations

while Colliflour certainly seems to think it fits into the main cosmology of the universe, it feels very clear, to me at least, that it does not.

the Hungry One and the Bulb have next to no physical manifestations in the world of Calorum the way Deus Pa’Zuul does.

sure, a spell might sound like a stomach rumble or emit holy light, but no one ever turns into a lightbulb.

The closest thing is that the Bulb is the Sun, but it remains untouchable and unknowable (until some crazy ass pepper shaker makes a spaceship or something).

the physicality of it makes me feel like it’s a smaller, though no less deadly, force than the Bulb and Hungry One.

there’s also the specificity - we’ve seen the magic of Bulb and Hungry One alike do a million different things. Deus Pa’Zuul’s magic seems less flexible - we only really hear it described or emphasized when Raphaniel casts a more destructive spell, like Shatter, and of course in the finale when it took over Colliflour’s body and the room around them.

(this is also probably bc TRW was a way shorter campaign and thus had much less opportunity to show off new fun ways for it to wreck shop)

The Bulb and the Hungry One are balanced - creation and destruction, light and dark. Deus Pa’Zuul feels like an extraplanar monster. I’d say “demon” but that implies that it’s working for the Hungry One, as he’s the Caloran equivalent of the Devil.

but then again, is that incorrect? in-world, it certainly feels separate from Bulb and Hungry One alike. but if we think about the implications of real-life garbage disposals...people are the ones that operate and control them. if the Hungry One is a person, he would be the one controlling what (and who) the disposal grinds up.

Finally, we have the Few Good Individuals in the Church. 

Saint Citrina, in the limited scenes we have from her, 

encourages Amethar to follow his heart and not divorce Catherine Ghee if he loves her.

creates a holy relic that forces you to tell the truth

has an argument with Archmage Lazuli about the goings-on with the Order of the Spinning Star

Queen Pamelia says in TRW ep. 1 - “Citrina and myself and many others have taken quite lovingly to the Book of Leaves. We just are careful with which sects of the church wish to impose disparate law and rule upon how we worship.”

later we see her sort of disagreeing with her mom as she is steered away from Raphaniel though, and we don’t really know what’s in the Book of Leaves, except that Saint Citrina enchanted it to force truth-telling at some point before her death.

is “useful” to Calroy and his conspirators until Brassica orders her killed. So, one can assume she was anti-Ramsian in some way.

We know that Primsy and most Dairy Islanders are Bulbian, but don’t get much of their specific beliefs. 

There is the scene in the Abbey of the Shimmering Cream with Saccharina, where we basically just learn that that abbey (and potentially area in general) is extremely anti-magic and terrible. We don’t get anything about their feelings vis-a-vis the Ramsian Doctrine though.

Primsy opposes the Ramsian Doctrine & Brassica in general once she hears about it though, so one can assume that she and the people around her don’t prioritize or agree with that in their worship.

We know Caramelinda is Bulbian, and she married Archmage Lazuli, so presumably she does not have the same issues with her use of “pagan” magic as Saint Citrina may have. 

Other than that we don’t have a lot on her religious beliefs, except that she wasn’t super stoked about Saccharina as Queen, but I think that was less because of her magic and more because of how violently anti-Bulbian and generally chaotic Saccharina is.

When Brassica’s whole Ramsian Doctrine plan gets set into motion, she gets a whole bunch of letters from churches across the continent that are like “um no??? please don’t cause the apocalypse??”, mostly from Candians (who we can assume are generally anti-Ramsian because they don’t want to die) but also from all the other countries.

So. There we go. Lmk if there’s any inconsistencies or anything ^v^

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Some replies! About our Crewel/Deuce art from yesterday + other TWST-related things (and one about OHSHC).

Anonymous asked:

nothing really special to say, but i wanted to let you know that your art has been helping me to draw more!! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ i have a big issue of hating my art, but seeing your passion for your work motivates me to work through it so i can get good at it instead of giving up, so thank you a lot i love what you do!!!!

Anon, this is so sweet ;w; I am so happy to hear that my work motivates you, it truly means a lot! I hope you’ll keep drawing and will enjoy the process of creating art more and more with every new sketch. Passion is one of the most important things when it comes to any kind of art.

Thank you! This is honestly one of the best things to hear.

icedefloweringtornado asked:

I have your blog set to notifications so all I see a lot of the time is the limited description. Today's 'good boy' had me just all oh is it going to be Idia? One of my hearts boys? Deuce. The goodest not goodest boy.

First of all, ahhh thank you so much for having notifications on, this is so nice of you!

Second of all, yeah, there are a lot of pretty good boys in twst lol some of them are only good when they are being bullied (Idia)… and some of them are the goodest not goodest like Deucey <3

Anonymous asked:

Your latest post?? Deuce/Crewel art has actually made my brain explode. I feel like a fool for not even thinking of them as a ship. You (plural) truly do just have the best takes in this fandom.

Deuce, the bad-boy-trying-to-be-good has always struck me as someone very, very eager to please. Then you have Crewel, the strict professor who puts students' in their place with a little *too* much abuse of power. The unequal power dynamics of professor and student? Delicious.

Lowkey, I imagine Deuce would be so used to obeying "commands" at some point another student would just say a command jokingly and Deuce automatically follows the command without second thought before realizing what the hell he is doing.

Thank you so much, Anon!! Whenever I draw these two, we think about how the hell did it take us this long to consider this ship. They are so horrible (=amazing) together… It feels so obvious, and yet…

Deuce is super eager to please and naive enough to be lured into something very dangerous. It’s so fun that he is genuinely trying, but somehow he still ends up in iffy situations. But it’s one thing when it’s Ace’s antics that put him in trouble, but Divus abusing his power is a whole other can of worms. There is no authority figure to help Deuce out this time. It’s super imbalanced, and Deuce is way too easy to take advantage of. Perfection :”)

Ohh, but well-trained puppy Deuce reacting to a command said by some other student…. A pavlovian response 😭 Let’s hope this is just “sit” or “paw” or something and not something spicier…

Anonymous asked:

AAAA THE CREWDEUCE 😍😍💞💞💞 THANK YOU RYUU FOR THE FOOD!!!!!! We need more Sensei ships up in here TBH

You’re very welcome and thank youuu!! Totally agree!

irregardlessly-tish asked:

I began the Glorious Mascarade event and every new facet of Rook's personality and identity is just... What even is this guy? He was just speaking some French words as he always does and someone else said "oh yeah, you're from this area right?" and he's like "No, I'm from the Savanna :)". So, you're telling me he's a fake? A poser? Some kind of weeb but for twisted France instead of Japan??? All this time he's been just the equivalent of someone being "omg >w< that's so kawaii desu ne~ owo!!". I always knew he was a freak and a weirdo (lovingly), I just didn't consider the extent of it... He's a normal weeb, all the signs were there with his idol obsessions... I was just too blind to see...

Ohh, I hope you’re enjoying it, Tish! It’s one of the best events, in my opinion.

“What even is this guy” IS SUCH A GOOD WAY TO DESCRIBE ROOK LOL The more you learn about him, the more questions you get: the fuck do you mean “I’m from Savanna”??? Your family does what for a living??? You can do what with your body??? It’s always like that with him. Even though he is very honest, he is also so fucking fake in a lot of ways. He really is just a Twisted France weeb …

I really wonder what made him love French so much. But then again, I feel like if we learn the reason behind it, it’ll leave us with 5 more questions about this weirdo lol

Anonymous asked:

i know you said the shadows in the deuce and epel skirt art belong to mobs but hear me out…it the other freshmen…freshmen gangbang

(this is about this drawing)

Very valid thought, Anon, I honestly wouldn’t be surprised with how horny some of the other freshmen students are… I feel like if you leave the freshmen all alone unattended, at some point this is the scenario that they are going to end up in.

Anonymous asked:

Random, but imagine a Scott pilgrim AU, but with Twist:

Oh, you want to date, Idia? Then you'll have to beat his 7 evil exes: Azul, the Tweels, Lilia, Sebek, Ortho, Eliza.

((Not sure if you heard/read Ghost's marriage event, but this is where Eliza appeared. Basically, she had an obsession with Idia, lmao))

Anon! This is a very good idea, and funny thing is, we had a sketch about Idia and his 7 evil exes lol I can’t post it here because it’s ko-fi exclusive (if you have access to our ko-fi, here is the post link; sorry, the access to one specific post can’t be purchased separately), but yeah this is basically this line-up minus Eliza, plus Trey. Ace plays Scott’s role… poor Idia, it’s probably so weird for him to be the manic pixie dream boy with 7 exes, he has no fucking clue how he ended up like this.

(Haven’t watched Ghost marriage yet, but I’m excited about it; we’re saving it for later just because it’s guaranteed to be a great even for us lol)

Anonymous asked:

smth I'm just curious Abt, have you seen/heard of ohshc??

Yes, of course! OHSHC was one of the titles we watched back in middle school even before we met each other, so it’s been a while… and it’s been a while since our last rewatch of it…

But still, it’s an amazing comedy that we quote a lot to this day. Theatre of (Tamaki’s) Mind, Homosexual supporting cast, I’m making a hamster home; all of it is so stupid and lovely lol

We tried to find the latest sketch of Tamaki and Kyoya from several years ago, but holy shit we don’t remember the year we drew it lol so I guess no sketches! Well, a reason to draw it all over now that my art looks better anyway.