#but when asked they don’t seem to have solid goals and reasons and try to brush past it

[zeroistic]

as much as i want the Players to win (because of how much they’ve been fucked over by pb&j), I also want to see pb&j as the sole survivors. what kind of peaceful ending do you get when it is only your team left? i want them to live with their actions of making other players ban themselves for them. If they want to win, they should deal with consequences, and hold their empty victory in a deserted server. Because ultimately, it’s not a server of gods bending to the will of mere mortals, it is the players scrapping together pyrrhic victories, living with all the bad that the conflict has brought to them, like it has alway been. no one wins a conflict without sacrifice, but pb&j don’t see that: they are trying to have a complete and utter victory. They can’t just flip a switch to revert everything to how they want it — they need to preserve it and make an effort to actually achieve the goal that they want, not just pvping the shit out of the other team. Part of their goal IS in fact get rid of the other team bc they want to ban people, but the main objective would be that they actually HELP the other players on the server, not getting them to ban themselves for fighting them better. Along their way of obsessively trying to get rid of the Players and their violent ending, they have been pursuing a violent ending, perhaps even better than the Players, with them getting other to ban themselves. They complain about the moral debates, yet their entire purpose is because of the morals they claim to have (even though they are VERY contradictory), with the conflicting ideas of peace and violence. So when the Players bring up that they have been going against their morals (by getting others to ban themselves), they immediately shut it down, because… they are right. Because if they don’t deny it, they are forced to recognize they are no different to the Players, perhaps even more ruthless being tunnel visioned on a side goal.

no matter who wins the physical war, who is left standing on the server in the end, both sides will have proven that there can only be violence, that lifesteal can never end in peace because of the lengths the server members will go to win their physical battles. PB&J can’t even stick by their own ideals to win the war, and instead give in to the gritty cruel nature of the server to be able to gain advantages, which is fine, except for the fact that one of their main goals is… to NOT have people banned? (esp because both sides keep saying that the war is between people who WANT everyone banned and those who DON’T, and yet those who don’t keep getting others banned… And, they are the ones that started it first, thus making the Players also plan on doing it… so which side has honor and morals again?)

it is also interesting when pb&j say that they don’t really have a ‘reward’ for winning, but they quite literally did that to themselves. LS has gods and exploiters, but it still is up to the players to forge their own victories, and relying their entire victory (of bringing everyone back when they ‘win’) on gods is kind of… eh. YOU make your victory, and if that victory includes banning people for another edge in pvp, then so be it (you, after all chose this, without any prompting or getting the ideas from the Players. it is naturally a place that brings the worst and cruel out of people.)

pb&j are also made up mostly of new players (and ash who is new to the whole ‘heroes’ thing), and they don’t seem to understand that a victory of their morals and being on the ‘good’ side requires sacrifice. They seem very bent on getting a clean, holistic victory, but when you fight those who want to ban everyone, you can’t get that (and pb&j have already been doing that to themselves by getting others banned, but they want a full revival to have their ‘perfect victory’). pbj are new: they don’t really see the suffering and pain previous ‘heroes’ (aka zam most of the time) had to go through, and ash is new to the whole ‘good person’ thing: he is used to complete and utter victories and power that compromise and sacrifice (something not really a problem in his godly endeavors) are a cost of pursuing their goal.

their goal for the server is unattainable, and they proved it themselves with their obsession of beating the other team

[amostimprobabledream]

Ignite Me (Homelander x Reader) Part Ten

Here comes the SEX!

They call it ‘the little death’ in French.

There are many euphemisms for sex, to come, but that’s the one that springs to mind.

If it’s little death, then clearly, Homelander’s trying to kill you.

He's aggressive and overpowering and everywhere. You feel like you’re drowning in him, being flooded with him. From the moment he threw you onto the bed (though even in the throes of passion, he was careful enough not to break it. Or you.) with all the effort of tossing a throw pillow, it’s like he’s trying to devour you whole. “Mmh…”

You don’t even bother trying to get some semblance of control – he’s so eager and yet so demanding that it feels like you’re attempting to surf a great wave. Your only goal is to simply not fall off I the chaos around you. His hand is cupping the back of your head as he presses feverish kisses to not only your mouth, but your neck, collarbone and anywhere else that’s available to him. You’re kissing him back with equal fervour, even though much to your disgruntlement, he’s still wearing his suit.

That’s not to say it’s not enjoyable, though.

It's almost unfair – he’s got super strength, he can fly, shoot lasers from his eyes and he’s a damn good kisser. He seems to know, by some natural instinct, when to use tongue, when to let you breathe and when you want more.

You’re sitting on your bed, but you’re leaning so far back on your elbows you might as well give up and lie down. He’s above you, one hand gripping your jaw and the other sliding across your stomach, dipping past your jeans and teasing you through the cloth of your panties. He did at least remove a few things, namely his boots, gloves, and belt, so the feel of solid flesh and bone instead of the padding still sends an odd thrill through you. He’s normally so covered up that even an inch of his bare skin feels scandalous.

You’re a little surprised though – you thought that he’d be eager to get between your legs, seeking relief for that rock-hard boner you’d felt against you earlier, and your skin had tingled with the heat of it, but he seems intent on taking his time, having you at his leisure.

“Fuck.” He murmurs, his voice soft and velvety-smooth. “You smell so fuckin’ good.”

He's said that more than once, and at first you thought he was complimenting the perfume you’d liberally applied when you got ready for this ‘date’, but in this context you don’t think that’s what he means.

You’re so busy with being kissed by him that it takes you a second to realise that he’s already undone your fly and worked your jeans partly down your hips already, his fingers pushing aside the wisp of underwear you have on and sinking into your wet heat. You can hear it and feel heat scorch your neck as his fingers glide easily inside you, and you let him peel off your jeans and panties, seeing no reason to keep them on anymore. They fall to the ground with a muted thump, and he grins at you with those sharp teeth, a kind of what-big-eyes-you-have kind of smile.

“So wet.” He purrs in approval, either oblivious or enjoying your embarrassment – you’re not used to this, to having someone so determined to experience your body, to know it so thoroughly. But Homelander is sampling you like a rare, exotic fruit that he doesn’t get a chance to sample often.

He doesn’t have to touch you to get your legs to part – he just stares at you, his blue eyes locked onto yours and he pointedly flicks them to your naked thighs that are covered in goosebumps. It’s slightly embarrassing how much the silent command turns you on – he isn’t asking, he’s demanding, and your body hastens to obey before your mind has a chance to overthink it.

“Good girl.” He says in genuine approval and heat floods your body as he speaks.

With the feline grace of a lion settling down to enjoy a fresh kill, he hunkers down between your legs and the next thing you know, the world’s greatest superhero is licking against your soaking core.

An undignified noise, like a squeal or a hiss, leaves your mouth as his scorching hot tongue drags a smooth stripe up your slit, and you can feel his facial muscles shift into a triumphant grin against your cunt. The fact he’s smiling somehow manages to be sexy and you even find your own lips twitching upwards in response.

Homelander doesn’t pin you down – he doesn’t have to. You’re immobilised with pleasure and some vague, paralysing disbelief that this is actually happening.

You’re not granted the reprieve to wallow in your confusion, though. Homelander wants to feast.

Your thighs squeeze either side of his face and one hand reaches down to tug on his blonde forelocks because you need something to hang onto, and he growls softly in response. There’s literally nothing that you could do that would physically hurt him, after all, so he doesn’t mind a little rough handling.

For Homelander, he was engulfed in a myriad of scent and taste that was driving him fucking feral. He’d caught the whiff of arousal from you early – a little pulse of it when he held your bloodied body in his arms the first time you met, that moment when he first kissed you, right here in this apartment, and when he’d dragged you onto his lap not an hour before. But now? Now he was permitted to fuck you with his tongue, have your flavour flooding his mouth and leaving him desperate for more. “Oh…” Your whines and moaning is only amplified by his super hearing and Homelander’s determined to commit it to memory, for something to recall during interminable meetings with Vought shareholders or when he’s listening to the Seven bickering over their stats or where they are in the popularity polls (something he doesn’t need to concern himself with – he’s always at the top). No, this sound is exclusively for him and him alone, and he hoards it greedily.

“Homelander, Homelander…” you mutter over and over, like a chant, and it’s better than a crowd of thousands screaming his name hoarse.

He makes a guttural sound, like he’s determined to drag your orgasm out of you by any means necessary. He hitches one of your legs over his shoulder and buries his face deep into your pussy.

You can barely form a coherent thought, barely speak. It should be absurd, the icon of America, the face of millions of posters and action figures, lapping at you like you’re a five-star buffet, making the obscenest sounds as he devours you. He doesn’t leave his hands idle either, fingertips pinching your clit and teasing it between thumb and index finger and your mind buzzes and blurs with pleasure fizzing and popping in your bloodstream. Moans so loud they make your ears ring spew forth from your lips, but you can’t help it, lifting your hands to your mouth to muffle your cries doesn’t even occur to you. It’s like the world has shrunk down to this little apartment bedroom and all you can think of is Homelander’s tongue exploring every inch of your cunt, waves of molten pleasure washing over you.

With such intense stimulation, you can’t stop yourself from coming on his tongue, your limbs twitching like they’re being manipulated by puppet strings, and you lie back panting on the bed, vision swimming, staring up at your ceiling and watching the fairylights strung above your bed twinkle out-of-focus. They look even prettier when you look at them through blurred vision like this. Homelander groans as your thighs twitch either side of him and your sweet taste coats his tongue.

Homelander slowly sits up, a smug expression on his face, chin shiny with slick. He licks his lips like a cat, his gaze half-lidded as he looks down at your prone form.

“Look at you.” He says in a teasing voice, affectionately swiping his thumb across your bottom lip. “You’d think you never got eaten out before.”

“Not like that, I haven’t.” you mutter in reply, heart still pounding like you were sprinting for the bus.

He barks a laugh at that, his eyes glittering with exhilaration. Unlike you, he isn’t winded in the slightest.

“Don’t worry – you’ll get used to it.”

Before you have time to digest that sentence, he’s dragging you up, up, off the bed, and all you can do is make a vaguely confused noise, half a question, before he’s arranging your body like a ragdoll’s so you’re sitting on his lap again. Except this time, you’re naked and the ragged hiss of a zipper being undone fills the air. You jump as the blunt head of his cock nudges your soaked core – he’s so hot, figuratively and literally, it’s like sitting directly on a radiator.

“Now,” Homelander breathes huskily into your ear, nipping it with his teeth and a shiver of delight crawls down your back as you picture those sharp fangs of his. His hand settles on your waist, holding you steady. “Here’s what I want, pretty thing. You’re going to sit on my cock, alright? I wanna feel you ridin’ me. Think you can manage that?”

Even if you suspect that is a rhetorical question, he doesn’t have to tell you twice.

“Yes sir.” You blurt out without thinking.

Sir? Where the fuck did that come from? But Homelander likes it – he makes this approving growl in his throat that makes your stomach flip.

“That’s a good fuckin’ girl.”

He sloppily kisses you as he pushes his way inside you and though you were expecting it, bracing yourself, a hiss leave your mouth at how goddamn thick he is, filling you up with his pulsing heat.

“Fuck!” you splutter. You’re really bringing you’re a-game with the dirty talk today, apparently.

You feel Homelander smirk against your neck.

“That’s the idea, sweetheart.”

Homelander doesn’t waste time with pleasantries – he rocks his hips and you gasp as he sinks deep into you, the length and girth of him pressing up against your inner walls, the heat igniting every nerve ending in you.

“Bounce on it,” Homelander orders you, and your stupid, animal brain is helpless to do anything but obey.

The sensation of the head of his cock hitting your sweetspot has your mouth actually falling open, your thighs flexing as you start to move. He lets you get used to him first – he knows full well he’s a lot to take and it’s cute watching you valiantly adjust to the size of him, your attempts at retaining any kind of cool reserve eroding away beneath this onslaught of new sensations and feelings. He groans himself as he feels you clench around him, like you’re sucking him in, and he rests one hand on your hip as you start rocking your hips forwards. Though he’s deprived of the sight of your tits in his face, which is a pity, he does like the look of your back undulating before him, and he traces a teasing line down the curve of your spine and watches you shiver.

“Look at you,” Homelander all but purrs as he leans forward and cups your tits, teasing your nipples, enjoying how you writhe beneath his grip. “Taking all of me like that…what a champ. You just wanted a good fucking, didn’t you?”

You groan in response. It’s not enough for him that he’s pounding you senseless, but he has to tease you and throw in some dirty talk too? Your stomach clenches at his words, the sultry, slightly mocking lilt doing it for you in a way you’re not sure you’d be able to articulate even if you wanted to. There’s something undeniably attractive about power, and Homelander’s casualness in how he uses it is addictive.

“Yes…nn…fuck me…” you mutter, knowing it’s what he wants you to say, but you do mean every word even as embarrassment jabs at you as you say the words. “I need…”

Homelander shifts, and he lets go of your breasts to grip your hips, slapping one hand down on the curve of your ass, making you yelp like an animal getting its paw stuck, the sting making your cunt instinctively clench around him, and Homelander lets out a breathy sound in response.

“Sure. I’ll help you.” He singsongs, but you can hear the hint of strain in his voice now.

He lifts you up effortlessly and then lets you sink down, impaling you on his cock and the keening whine he gets in return is everything he could ask for. He likes it so much that he does it again, and again, leaning forwards to nip a the flesh where your neck meets shoulder as you rock your hips forwards on his cock, feeling it nudging up against your core and sending sparks of pleasure coursing through you.

“Oh god, oh fuck…” you moan, practically drooling, which would be embarrassing if there was any room in you for modesty. At the moment it’s all you can do to keep going, you’re coming apart in his hands and he knows it. “God-!”

“No.” he says sharply, his voice like a whip, but even that isn’t enough to pierce the fog of pleasure you’re lost in. “Say my name.”

“Homelander!” you cry out as he ups the pace, rutting against you with abandon now, and you know you’re going to have marks on you when you wake up tomorrow, fingerprints on your hips, hickies and bitemarks on your neck and collarbone, teeth marks on your inner thighs…that’s assuming you survive today, of course.

“That’s more fucking like it…ugh, fuck…!” he half moans, half snarls, mindful even now of his strength.

He's wanted this for so long, he realises now. He’s wanted to fuck you ever since he felt your soft, sweet lips against his, that jolt of electricity, of instant sexual attraction between you, like a defibrillator bringing someone back from the dead. It just took him, and you, time to realise it, what with everything else going on, the media storm, your surgery, Vought’s interference, all of it. But here, this, this is real. And Homelander has no intention of letting this go, of releasing you back into your ordinary world like letting a goldfish rejoin its brethren in a tank. You’ve opened a door to something Homelander wasn’t aware was an option for him, let alone understood it was something he might want for himself. He’s no stranger to being desired, when you’ve been the face of the most famous group of heroes for as long as he has, he knows exactly the effect he has on others. But this isn’t the same. It’s not the mindless adoration of the masses, easy to win or lose, nor is it some complicated chess game he’s required to play, dangling promises and deals and money until Vought has the advantage. No, this is something honest. Real. If he has to make you come over and over to keep this thing, this one thing he has that’s entirely his and has nothing to do with Vought, then that’s exactly what he’ll do. He certainly doesn’t imagine you’ll be complaining much.

Mine. “Oh, fuck, Homelander…I can’t…” you gasp out, and he can feel you clenching around him, your inner walls fluttering. The sting of arousal in his nose is almost overpowering, but he likes it. “I’m- “

“You can.” He growls back. “You will.”

It seems you like a little bossing around, at least in the bedroom, because your body responds accordingly to his verbal commands. He can smell how close you are, your pants and hissing noises gaining a strained edge, like you’ve been screaming for hours on end, and your movements are getting sloppy, falling out of rhythm as pleasure overwhelms your fragile little body. With his hands still firmly gripping your hips, he helps you ride out your orgasm, savage thrusts that jolt your body forwards, driving high-pitched whines from your mouth. He’s not immune to you, though, he can feel himself inching towards the edge, but he wants to see you come first, wants the sight of your head thrown back in rapture burned into his retinas.

He gets his wish. Your final jerks of your hips give way to your body falling still, trembling with pleasure as your orgasm rocks you, pulses of it rushing up through your body and rendering everything else secondary.

You’re barely aware of Homelander taking control and giving a few last thrusts of his hips, groaning into your back as he does, so lost are you in your own haze. His arms wrap around you, and he pulls you back against his chest, where you loll like you’ve just been through a shipwreck. Your body is all sweaty, but you can’t find it in yourself to care and let Homelander shift back so he’s lying on the bed on his back, you clamped to his chest like his own personal teddy bear.

Neither of you speak for a little bit, you mostly because you’re trying to get your bearings and breath back and Homelander because he’s processing things. It’s not an uncomfortable silence, though, and a little part of your mind whispers about how it’s…nice. It’s nice to have warm, strong arms holding you like this. You wonder if that’s how Homelander feels too, but you don’t yet have the breath to ask this and you’re reluctant to break the sweet, fragile silence yet.

Of course, he’s the first one to do so.

“Didn’t fuck you too hard, did I?” he asks, and though his voice has the cadence of a joke, you can hear a lick of something else in there. Is he worried about you?

“No…I’m good…” you manage to gasp out, giving a feeble wave of your hand before your arm flops heavily onto the bed. “Just…need a minute to recover.”

He knows you’re going to need much longer than that – you look like you’re on the verge of passing out, actually, but he humours you and gives a little hum of assent. If you need a power nap to get your strength back, he doesn’t mind indulging you. You don’t know he’s already aware of how cute you look when you’re sleeping.

“Sure, whatever you need.” He replies in a soothing hum, and his palm gently strokes your hair off your damp forehead. “I can wait.”

It's possible he might get called away before you wake up, but Homelander decides to worry about that when and if it happens – anyway, you know who he is and if you’re going to insist on keeping this whole thing you have going on a secret, you can hardly bitch if he’s called away to save people’s asses or go to a public event or whatever other fucking thing Vought needs him to do. Everyone needs him, don’t they?

He's saved from being too caught up in bitter thoughts, which are increasing in frequency of late, when you snuggle up against his chest, all your carefully done makeup now smudged beyond redemption.

“Sorry…I’ll be fine.” You mumble, slurring a little with how exhausted you are. “Mm…”

He's quiet for a moment and you wonder (vaguely, it has to be said) what’s going through his head, but you’re just so overwhelmed…you just need to rest your eyes for a second…

“Well,” Homelander says in a cheery tone of voice, as your try and fail to keep your eyes closed. “That went well for our first date.”

[avatarmerida]

It’s been awhile since I’ve had something to share but this is the piece I wanted to have ready for Valentine’s Day but better late than never, right? No plot really, just cringe fluff 💛💚

———

Hunter had a very specific way of managing stress. If there was something he needed or wanted to do that was important and he found it was overwhelming him, he would simply plan a series of slightly smaller but equally important tasks ahead of it to make the original task seem less intimidating.

It worked wonders in the coven. When he tried to work up the nerve to ask his uncle something important, he prolonged it by setting goals for himself to run a certain distance in a certain amount of time or memorize portions of the handbook or to make a certain amount of arrests first. The lists grew longer and more elaborate and while he did end up doing some things that previously caused him a great deal of anxiety, he still found a way to put off the thing he truly needed to do.

And despite the progress he had made, old habits die hard.

So now, here he was in the middle of Grom supposed to be enjoying the fruits of his labor but all he could do was scream internally. He had done the impossible, he had asked Willow to Grom and yet he couldn’t enjoy it because there was more (or at least there was supposed to be). Normally, this would be the impossible task he aspired to accomplish but he had one more outlandish feat to reach for and he was having trouble finding a solid, logical reason to keep putting it off.

“Gus,” Hunter whispered nervously under the guise of coming up to his table to request a song . “Are we totally sure that Willow knows we’re here together like on a date?”

Gus’ smile faded as he lowered his glasses to give his friend a look. “Seriously dude?” said Gus with a familiar sigh, having been there at every step of Hunter’s doubt and anxiety regarding his feelings for their friend. “I was there: she said yes. She said yes and hugged you and like a billion flowers bloomed in her hair. She was obviously so beyond happy that you asked her, why are you so worried?”

“Because of how I said it,” groaned Hunter. “I said ‘do you want to go to Grom’ I didn’t say ‘with me’ or ‘as a date.’ I mean, of course she wanted to go!”

“Hunter, seriously?”

“Yes, seriously!”

With no impending doom or unrealistic and unhealthy expectations set for him, Hunter’s mind had more time and room to focus on more pleasant things. His feelings for Willow had been progressing slowly in the background but now that he was embracing what it meant to be a normal teenager, his feelings rose to the surface as soon as they could. Now there was no reason to feel guilty about getting distracted by the sound of her laughter or practicing jokes in the mirror before bed each night to try and impress her. No, guilt was not a feeling he associated with Willow but the feelings he did associate with the plant witch were unique and powerful and confusing.

Hunter’s friends had assured him this was a totally normal way to feel about a crush, but Hunter didn’t have much experience with normalcy and he highly doubted that he’d ever get used to the way his lungs stopped working when she stood near him. So when he had decided to do something about these feelings, he approached it with the extreme attention detail he had always approached everything.

The only difference was that unlike a vast majority of his other interests, Willow was real.

“Well usually when you do a gromposal it means you want to go as more than friends ,” said Gus. “Otherwise you say ‘hey since we don’t have dates let’s all go to Grom as friends.’ You usually don’t spend all night arranging her favorite flowers to spell ‘GROM?’ on the flyer derby field for someone you like as just a friend.”

Hunter blushed, rather pleased with how his efforts had turned out. He had aimed for something both grand and personal in hopes it would translate to romantic. It had been a unique challenge to get Willow to look down as she was so focused on winning their usual end of practice match (loser paid for the eyescream) but when she finally did, her expression was priceless.

They had flown back up so she could take a selfie with it in the background and he had made it his scroll’s wallpaper because he simply could not stop looking at it.

“But we had already agreed to go as a group so how can I be sure that she knows I asked her specifically because I like her as more than just a friend if we’re doing group things all night because I don’t know what to do on a date.”

“You can just be direct, dude,” said Gus. “Tell her you like her and you’re having a good time and stuff.”

Hunter had no problem doing that, he had done it plenty of times. Whenever Willow planned something or suggested they do something like that, he always made sure to tell her what a nice time he had. It was just proper manners. But complementing her in a way that voiced his constant thoughts was another thing. He could tell her the cafe she suggested was a great spot any day of the week, or that her plants were looking strong, but he wanted to tell her his admiration for her far surpassed anything she merely did , it encompassed everything she was . It was confusing because it seemed like something beyond mere words, he wanted to express his gratitude every time she messaged him or said his name or walked into a room.

For some reason he thought Grom would give him the courage to do it.

“It’s just that… there’s… more …”

“More?” Gus repeated, intrigued. “More how ?”

“It’s just… well Luz might have mentioned- and I’m not saying this is the only reason I asked Willow to come with me- that sometimes at Grom people who are more than friends have certain ways to… express that.”

Gus narrowed his eyes and offered Hunter a knowing smirk. “You wanna kiss her, don’t you?”

Hunter wrung his hands as his breathing became shallow, his eyes darting over to Willow laughing with Luz and Amity and Hunter felt a familiar lightheadedness that the event’s ambiance had been amplifying all night.

“Yes,” he said breathlessly, knowing he couldn’t and truthfully did not want to deny it. “Yeah. I do. Very much.”

“Dude!” Gus explained, playfully punching him in the arm. “That’s great! You should go for it!”

“I mean, there’s just one problem with that…”

“What? Bad breath?”

“No, I- wait,” Hunter quickly checked his breath to ensure he hadn’t neglected that detail. He had been chewing mints all day. “No, not that. It’s just that, well, uh,” he chuckled nervously as the words quickly spilled out of him. “Willow maaaay be under the impression that I don’twanttokissher.”

“And whyyy exactly would she think that?”

“Well…”

Three weeks earlier:

“Hunter!” Willow greeted him joyfully as she opened the door to find him waiting with an equally wide smile to hers. “Hi! You’re right on time!”

“Oh, that’s a relief, I timed my pace so I would be,” he said

“Did you bring the stuff?” Willow asked with a giggle.

He held up his book bag with pride. “Got it all right here, safe and sound.”

“Perfect!” said Willow, her voice low and mischievous. “Let’s go!”

“Perfect! Yeah, okay let’s go-woah!”

Willow excitedly reached out to take his wrist to pull him inside and Hunter happily trailed after her.

“Dad! Papa! Hunter is here and he says hi and we’re gonna be in my room!” she called as she ran up the stairs.

“Okay petal, sounds good! Hello Hunter!” called Harvey.

“Hello sirs!” Hunter called back as best he could.

“Have fun!” Gilbert added.

“We will!” Willow called back as they finally made it to her room and just as she was about to shut the door behind them, her fathers added in unison:

“And make sure the door stays open!”

Willow groaned in defeat as she obliged, as though she had been hoping to outrun the instruction.

“Why do they always say that?” Hunter asked as he unpacked his bag, a collection of threads and patches as they prepared for a long evening of uniform customization to surprise the Entrails for their upcoming game with personalized jackets. Darius was always asking him to close his door, mostly because of how loud he liked to play his music.

“Oh, you know how they get,” she said simply, rolling her eyes endearingly. “They’re just overprotective.”

“Are they… scared of me?” Hunter asked, his voice low and hurt and Willow jumped to address the misunderstanding.

“Oh, no! No, nothing like that I promise,” Willow assured him with a smile he knew could never be deceptive. “No, they love you, they really do. They wanna give us our space but they also wanna make sure we’re not up here kissing.”

Hunter completely stopped working.

"What?” he basically squeaked after a moment, certain he had misheard her somehow.

“Oh, well ya know if we keep the door open then they think we’ll be less likely to kiss because they can like walk by and see,” Willow explained casually as she went to help him unpack the bag.

“W-why would they think we would be up here k-kissing?” Hunter asked in a panicked chuckle before clearing his throat, he felt like he was on the surface of the sun. “Ya know, cause we’re totally not.”

“Well, yeah I know that but if we leave the door open they’ll know that too,” said Willow with a shrug. “Personally, I think they’re just nosey because of how they used to be when they played flyer derby.”

“How come they never say it when Gus is with us?’

“Uh, it’s just a dad thing I guess,” said Willow, as she sorted the supplies trying not to show the mild blush creeping on her face. She knew why but she didn’t know how to say how she knew why.

“Just a dad thing, sure,” Hunter repeated lightly. So her dads thought there was a possibility they would kiss? Cool, cool, cool, no biggie. He knew he had been the last one to arrive at the Park residence several times and opened the door to find her and Gus laughing on their scrolls, or Luz or Amity would be over when he came to pick her up to go train and often the door was even locked. No he was the common denominator. He suddenly recalled Camila had a similar rule for when Luz and Amity were left alone. His mind raced to connect the dots as he realized that the Parks thought that if the two of them were specially left unsupervised, that they would…

“Ha ha yeah! A dad thing, totally!” Hunter exclaimed with forced laughter. “So totally not based on anything! Haha, because that would never happen!”

“Um, okay?”

“Yeah because we don’t, I mean we’ve never, we would never… I mean, what?”

“Are you okay, Hunter?” asked Willow, sitting on the edge of her bed beside him. He suddenly was aware of how often they sat on her bed together. Why did that make him feel nervous?

“Yeah, I’m totally fine!” he said, very much aware of how much he was sweating. “I’m great! I’m totally not thinking about kissing you! Ya know, if you want I can run downstairs and let your dads know they don’t have to worry about the door because of how much I don’t think about it!”

“Um…”

“I mean, you and me? Us? Kissing? Pssh!” Hunter continued, unaware of how to stop talking. “Who even thinks about that sometimes? That’s, uh, woah that’s a good one!”

Willow’s fathers must have read his mind or his diary somehow because Hunter had definitely thought about it. Never on purpose, it’s just one of those random scenarios that your mind makes up every few days, right? He couldn’t help that one day he realized that Willow was the perfect height to kiss on the forehead. Like, it would take very little effort just to lean forward and gently press her lips below her hairline. It had been in the human realm, the first time he had helped her in the garden and had ended up being chased by a swarm of bees. When Clover stepped in to explain things, she pulled him into an embrace to ensure he hadn’t been hurt and to let him know how happy she was that he had come out with her. When he looked down to assure her that he was fine, the thought devoured every corner of his mind. The action would certainly convey his feelings, would summarize words he wasn’t sure had been invented yet. It would just be really nice actually.

Over time, that thought evolved. His daydreams wandered to fetch visions of some nicer timeline where they had met under different circumstances and he was the kind of bold who kissed her hand when they met or kissed her cheek when they parted ways. The first time his unconscious mind leapt to insert them in place of O’Bailey and Ivy in the famous scene under the endless moon of Jupiter 7 where they sealed their love for each other with a kiss, Hunter awoke in a cold sweat feeling like he had reached a point of no return. But it must not be okay because Willow’s dads were clearly taking actions to prevent it and Hunter felt he needed to deny these claims, lest the front door to the Park house be closed to him forever.

“I mean, w-why would I try to kiss you? That just seems so-.”

“I got it, Hunter,” said Willow sternly as she rose to move the supplies to her desk. She kept her back to him as she organized the needles and threads. Her voice lacked its usual spunk, it was a tone he was unfamiliar with. “Message received, you don’t wanna kiss me. I’ll let my dads know they have nothing to worry about.”

---

“Dude…” was all Gus could say as Hunter finished his retelling.

“I know, I know!” Hunter groaned as he covered his face with his hands. “It’s bad, right?”

“It’s…not great,” Gus couldn’t lie. “But hey, it didn’t stop her from saying yes! That’s good, right?”

“But her dads think there’s a possibility that I would want to kiss her so much that they keep the door open to prevent it,” Hunter was letting all his pent up worries spiral out of him while Willow was out of earshot, but luckily Gus had become a pro at reeling him back in.

“They probably just remember what it's like to be young and have a crush on someone.”

“How do her dads know I have a crush on her?”

Gus couldn’t help but roll his eyes a little. “I mean, did you ever consider that you weren’t the one they were worried about?”

“What do you mean? I was the only one there.”

“I just mean, they know Willow better than they know you…”

“I’m not following.”

Gus sighed, knowing that the sharing of Willow’s feelings was not his responsibility but he couldn’t help relating to her frustration with Hunter’s inability to pick up hints no matter how obvious.

“Hunter, you got this far, just be honest.” he said sincerely. “We both know you want to tell her you like her.”

“I mean is that too much for one night?” Hunter asked in a panicked whisper. “Should I tell her I like her first and then reschedule the ki- or, hold on it’s probably weird to schedule that, huh? I mean what if she doesn’t feel that way about me and then boom! I’ve ruined her night because she’ll always remember this Grom as the night she couldn’t enjoy herself because I don’t know how to tell her I think about kissing her without being weird. Titan, and she just looks so… gah, is it hot in here?”

“Hunter, I promise nothing could ruin this night for Willow,” Gus chuckled. “Do you remember how excited she was when you asked her? You barely finished the question before she tackled you, you guys nearly fell to your death because she was so happy. It’s all she’s been talking about all week, I promise that you telling her you think she’s awesome will not ruin her night.”

“You sure?”

“Positive,” Gus said confidently. “Just don’t get too in your head, you know? Willow cares about you, she wants you to have a good time too. She’s not gonna care if you’re a bad kisser.”

“Thanks Gus, you know I really-,” Hunter cut himself off and offered his friend a glare as his voice became low and menacing. “I didn’t say I was worried I’d be a bad kisser.”

As Gus continued to attempt giving his friend a pep talk, across the room Willow could not take her eyes off Hunter.

“Doesn’t he look so cute?” sighed Willow dreamily as she stood beside Luz at the punch bowl.

“Darius and I may have to disagree with you on that,” Amity laughed as she poured Luz some punch. “After all the hours we spent suit shopping and at the tailor, he comes down the stairs in another ensemble from 2008.”

“Well you said he couldn’t wear the Cosmic Frontier cosplay,” Luz reminded her girlfriend. “So he had to make an impression somehow , and you know how much he wants to impress Willow.”

“Did he really say that?” Willow took a break from her string to gleefully ask. She felt like she was going to leap out of her skin as she looked back at him knowing he had gone out of his way to put in so much effort for her sake yet again. “Well you can tell him it’s working.”

“Ew, tell him yourself,” Amity groaned playfully.

“Oof, believe me I’m trying,” Willow chuckled softly.

“Are you guys having fun on your daaaaate?” Luz asked with a raised eyebrow.

She waved at him from across the room and he bashfully waved back, straightening his spine when he saw he had her attention. Willow giggled, finding it charming and endearing. She had been looking forward to this moment for weeks, preparing to ask him before he had beaten her to it. She knew he wanted tonight to be special, he was going all out at every turn to make sure she was comfortable and having fun.

She couldn’t help but hope it was all leading to something more.

Two weeks ago:

They were walking down the sidewalk in the human realm, revisiting an ice cream shop they had grown fond of when they had been trapped in the human realm. They had made sure to get a pint of their newest flavor of the month for Gus who had stayed at the Noceda’s to help Camila set up her old projector for a special viewing of the Cosmic Frontier holiday special that had only aired once that she had recently found her old recording of on a device even Luz considered historic.

Willow had recently caught up with the reading required to understand the special, but Camila had informed her that it was not canon and rather controversial in the fandom. This excited Willow and so she was spending their walk back trying to guess the wildest thing that could happen as though composing a bingo list to enhance the experience.

“...I also think they’ll reveal Ivy has a twin and O’Bailey will go to confess his feelings and then you find out it’s her twin and so it won’t count,” Willow continued. “And I know no one knows O’Bailey’s secret and it feels like they definitely don’t find out until closer to the end but I feel like memory loss is gonna be a big part of-.”

“I would wanna kiss you!” he blurted, unable to hold it in anymore. It had been weighing on him all week and hearing her talk about his favorite thing while looking so stunning sent him over the edge.

“What?”

“Er not right now!” He said, realizing the volume of his admission made it seem like he intended to follow though at that very moment. “I mean well yes right now as in I still feel that way but I’m not saying it because that’s what I… I just, I mean last week when I said that I wouldn’t kiss you I wasn’t saying that because I thought it would be unlikeable or unpleasant.”

“Oh,” Willow said, shaking herself out of her daze as she made the connection. “Wait, is that why you’ve been acting so weird?”

“I’ve been acting weird?”

“No, well yes but no I mean,” Willow smiled as she swung the bag of treats, feeling giddy at his timing. “I could tell you’ve been worried about something, but have you been making yourself crazy just to tell me that kissing me wouldn’t be so bad?”

That was definitely part of the reason but a larger percentage was what he had planned for tomorrow after practice: a gromposal that had been in the works since he had learned the term. But he couldn't give that way, not just yet.

“I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t offended you.” Hunter said softly. “I didn't want you to think I didn't want to because it didn't sound appealing, I’m sure it would be… nice.”

“So then what's the real reason you don't wanna kiss me?” Willow asked with a sly smile that faltered when she saw the color leave Hunter’s face. “Oh no Hunter, I was only teasing! It’s fine, really! I know you didn’t mean anything by it! It’s okay, really!”

“I just meant that your dads wouldn’t need to worry because I would never kiss you unless you wanted me to,” Hunter clarified with a deep breath. There, perfect. Now they could continue their way back to the house in peace and there would be nothing more to worry about or-

“Okay what if I said I wanted you to,” she began, her voice dancing and spinning like a vine twisting its way to the top of a fence, eager to see the other side. “What if I said I wanted you to and you had no doubt that I was totally okay with it? Would you… do it then?

“Is that… what's happening right now?”

Willow bit her lip as she took in the sight of the tall, nervous boy in front of her. He cared about her so much, so much it made him nervous. She knew everything he cared about he cared about intensely and with unbreakable loyalty. But she had suspected for awhile that the way he cared about her was different. That was what made it so familiar to her.

“What would you say if it was?” She said, giving a non answer. Because it was one thing to say ‘I want to kiss you’ but somehow even harder to ask ‘Do you want to kiss me?’ because didn’t other conversations have to happen first? Surely he was holding back because of the feeling that needed to be attached. Willow was nearly positive they shared these feelings, she was so so certain that a mind reader would know they were on the same page but neither wanted to risk losing what they had built by adding something heavier on.

But actions were louder than words, and a little harder to misinterpret.

“I uh, well I guess I-I would say…” Hunter stuttered to try and give a response without giving too much away. He had no way to support his theory with experience, but he knew that kissing Willow would be pleasant, it would be warm and soft and safe. But he couldn’t speak to the experience she would have.

But Willow once again shared his thoughts.

When Willow had woken up that morning, she had not intended to kiss Hunter in the middle of the sidewalk forgetting the urgency of getting their icy treats home before they melted, but at this moment she couldn’t imagine continuing the day without doing so. So many times they had been on the brink and being more, of something slipping that platonic friends did not harbor for one another. It was small and dramatic and silly and confusing and always there like a snowball rolling down a hill growing faster and bigger with every inch. She had always been a fan of directness, of being open and honest but she didn’t know how to say she felt this way plainly. It could be done in three words, nothing crazy complicated about that, right?

But something always held her back.

As she tried to summon a response both clever and truthful to try and help him find his own, the sound of church bells reminded them they were on a timed limit. More specifically, they were supposed to be back at the house before four o clock, which the bells indicated it now was.

“Well, anyway, we should probably be getting back,” he said, releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “I know Gus is probably jumping off the walls waiting for us and I really wanna hear more of your theories.”

“Yeah, right of course,” said Willow softly, as she tried to shake away the haze she had wandered into. “Besides, they won’t stay cold forever but also my fingers are starting to freeze.”

“Oh well here let me take it,” said Hunter, his nerves letting up when he saw an opportunity to help her. Before she could say anything, he maneuvered the bag from her grip. “The cold doesn’t bother me anyway, it’s a grimwalker thing.”

She knew even if it did he would endure it for her sake. It was an action so simple and small but it made her heart spin every time he leapt to her aide. It wasn’t because he thought she needed his help but because he enjoyed helping her, because maybe he was looking for any reason to be closer to her, even for a moment.

“Well aren’t you sweet,” she said. As Hunter readjusted his grip on the bags, she went onto her tip toes and placed a quick but purposeful kiss to his cheek and continued to walk as though it was no big deal. “Thanks Hunter.”

Hunter froze, trying to process and replay and stay conscious. It had been so swift and soft but it was as though the brush of her lips inspired the world to stop and adopt new colors. It was like something finally clicked in his mind, that he had thought it so impossible because he did not know how to take that step but he should have known he would once again follow Willow’s lead.

Willow smiled to herself, knowing in an instant that her risk had paid off. He quickly caught up her as she continued with her Cosmic Frontier theories, secretly delighted by the way his face was red the rest of the way home.

The ball was in his court.

-

“Do you guys think he asked me because he likes me or because he knows how much I’ve always wanted a gromposal?” Willow asked.

“Um… both?” said Amity as she and Luz shared a confused and slightly concerned look.

“Willow, are you seriously doubting that Hunter is crazy about you?” Luz asked sternly.

“Well, I mean he could still like me and still have asked me just as a friend,” said Willow. “He’s been doing a lot to try and be a normal teenager, what if he just thought that Gromposals were a part of that because of how much I was talking about them when I thought I was dropping hints?”

“Well in my experience, friends don’t normally practice in their bedroom mirror how they’re going to ask just friends to dance with them,” said Luz.

“Well, I’ll believe it when I see it,” Willow said with a smile, Hunter actually had managed that. He could spin and shuffle with the best of them, but every time the music started to slow down he made an excuse to leave for the duration of the song. He would dance beside her, and she could tell he had practiced a few moves to impress her, but they weren’t dancing together . But she had a feeling with how much he built up the gromposal that he wanted his dance ask to be equally special.

“I’m pretty sure he’s waiting for the right song,” said Amity. “There’s this one he found in the human realm that Darius said he’s been playing nonstop because it reminds him of you.”

“Really?”

Amity’s eyes widened. “And I’m just now realizing that that was supposed to be a secret,” she grimaced. “Please forget I said anything.”

Across the room, Gus and Hunter were also discussing the song.

“Hunter, being the Grom host I have an obligation to keep the evening to a certain flow,” said Gus. “I can’t keep pushing back your song, the music has to flow, bro.”

“I know, I know,” he said nervously swirling his punch. “It’s just… every time I know it’s coming up I get in my head.”

The first few notes would start to play and Hunter would instinctively run past the joining couples with envy in the pit of his stomach to tell Gus to wait a little longer. The crowd would quickly recover, as Gus always knew the perfect transition out, and Hunter would walk back to her no closer to his goal than he was before.

“Well I have it queued up to play after we take our photo, so its time to figure it out,” said Gus sternly. “The worst thing that could happen is she says no.”

But that wasn’t true. Because she could say yes, thinking him asking meant he knew what he was supposed to do, but he knew if he was meant to take Willow by the waist and pull her close to him he would be paralyzed. And even if he wasn’t, what if after all the extreme movement he smelled or was sweaty and Willow would regret being so close to him? What if he tripped and fell? What if he stepped on her toes?

What if he thought about kissing her again?

In his mind he thought about using the idea of asking her to dance to delay the higher issue but Gus was right; it was time to figure it it

He didn’t ask Willow to Grom so he could sit in the corner hyperventilating about how much he liked her, no he wanted her to have a good time, and that was the perfect goal to distract him.

“Gus, do you have the song Willow likes? The one from the shoe commercial?”

“I might have had Luz help me get it, why do you ask?” Gus asked with a smirk that said he already knew.

“Can you play it?”

Hunter knew it would get Willow back on the dance floor in an instant, and he intended to be there when she rushed on in excitement. The iconic notes echoed, and Hunter saw Willow’s ears perk up as she turned her head to see it was true. In the human realm, Willow had been obsessed with the cheesy shoe commercial that played nonstop. And thusly, Hunter had been obsessed with how obsessed with it she was. It was improbable, everyone dancing in the street uninterrupted by traffic just because of how comfortable their shoes were.

Hunter stood in the center of the floor, his eyes locked confidentiality on her as they both knew what they had to do. Hunter got a running start and slid on his knees to her and quickly leapt up and gave her a wink, just as the actors did. Willow nearly squealed in delight, recognizing the reference instantly. She quickly grabbed his hand to lead him onto the floor and he happily followed behind her, feeling as though they traveled in slow motion. They fell into a comfortable rhythm, spinning and singing along just as they often did in the Noceda living room. It was too silly to be scary as Hunter found himself seeing her under the reflection of the mirror ball, her eyes shining as everything else around her melted away.

“You’re a really good dancer,” Willow said, catching her breath as the song started to fade out.

“Thanks,” he said, equally breathless. “Y-you too. Not that I’m surprised! You’re good at everything.”

She bit her lip as she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, it helps to have a great partner,” she said shyly.

Hunter laughed nervously, becoming hyper aware of how close they were, how close they had been during the song. He saw her hand hovered beside his and he gently swung his own to knock into hers as though by accident. She inched closer.

“Well, just to be clear, you’re the great partner here,” Hunter said modestly, and Willow couldn’t help but blush, a string of small yellow flowers blooming in her hair. Something compelled him to take her hand, and he rubbed his fingers over her knuckle. He cleared his throat. “Willow, do you think-.”

“Willow! Hunter! C’mon! We’re next in line for the photo booth!” Gus called.

“We’ll be right there!” Willow called before turning back to him, giving his hand a small squeeze. “I’m sorry, what were you gonna say?”

He gulped, having the perfect chance to chicken out but knowing he didn’t want to. He pressed on right where he left off. “You think you might wanna dance some more after we take a photo? Like, just you and me? To like… a slower song?”

“Like a slower… romantic song?” Willow asked, testing the waters.

“Yeah, yeah t-the song could be romantic,” he gulped. “I-I-I’d prefer it to be romantic. With you.”

“Okay cool,” Willow said with a wide smile, sliding closer to him and lacing their fingers together. “Me too.”

“R-really?”

“Yeah,” she said brightly, absolutely smitten by the utterly adorable and shocked look he wore. “I’m having a really nice time with you, Hunter,”

He hadn’t messed it up. She was having a nice time, she was having a nice time with him. He took a deep breath and the words just started to pour out of him.

“Willow I just wanted to say that I’m having a great time with you too and that I always have a good time with you and when I asked you to Grom I didn’t ask you as a friend even though I really like being your friend but I asked you because I like you romantically and if you would prefer staying just friends I’m okay with that but I just wanted to thank you for agreeing to accompany me and express my admiration for you because I think you’re the coolest person I’ve ever met and also you look so pretty tonight it makes me feel dizzy.”

He leaned down and removed his hand from hers to cup her cheek as he quickly pressed a kiss to the other side before rushing to meet the others. His face was completely red and he fought through the lightheadedness to keep walking, stuffing his hands in his pockets to try and seem casual. He was too overwhelmed to wait to see her reaction.

He didn’t see that she was utterly enchanted as she watched him hurry with wide eyes as she touched the spot where he had kissed. A delighted smile overtook her face as she fluffed her dress and proceeded to float in the booth after him, her eyes fixated and determined. She was deaf to the chaos around her as the boy became surrounded by a vibrant, rosy frame. She had no doubt they were on the same page now, and the ball had returned to her court.

“Took you guys long enough! Tell Luz you vote for my pose first!” said Vee as Hunter was the first of the two to enter the booth, the rest of their friends in the middle of trying to agree on how to take the photo.

“Can we all even fit?” Amity asked as they tried to arrange themselves in frame.

“Yeah we just have to squeeze!” announced Luz. from beside her. “Gus, move over!”

“I will if Hunter does!” He replied as he turned to face his friend. “Hunter, dude, why-.”

Gus was greeted by Hunter wearing a face that he could only describe as seasick. His face was contorted like he wasn’t sure what to feel and as Willow entered his view just behind him wearing a soft, calm expression Gus knew why.

“You did it, didn’t you?” He whispered with a gasp and Hunter merely nodded, still feeling as though he could combust. Gus jumped up and gave his best friend a celebratory noogie.

“Willow, do you wanna stand by us or-.” Amity began to ask before catching sight of the dizzy expression her friend wore, an expression she knew all too well. She instantly knew the cause as she went to stand beside Hunter who was attempting to fix his hair. “No way,” she gasped as Willow wordlessly confirmed her thought by looking her focus on Hunter, shaking away the small flowers that had bloomed atop her head once again.

“Told you Amity!” Gus called victoriously before leaning down to whisper to Vee what had happened.

“Hunter, your bow tie is crooked,” called Luz as she pulled Vee back into the frame, too focused on preserving the memory to realize what was enfolding behind her.

“I’ll fix it,” said Willow with a dreamy smile as she reached out to adjust his tie. “I need to make sure my date looks his best for the photo, right?”

Hunter let out a high-pitched chuckle as Willow pulled him closer, and he didn’t really care that she technically wasn’t fixing his bow tie as her words echoed in his ears.

Date… date… date.

My date. She said he was her date. They were on a date, and they both knew it. She was his date and having a good time and it was all just so much that all he could do was give her a small nod of agreement.

“Hunter, put your arm around Willow.” Luz instructed as she looked at the positioning to try and get everyone in the shot.

“Yeah, Hunter put your arms around me,” Willow said dreamily as she used her hold on his bow tie to pull him even closer. Hunter felt transported, as though just being in her gaze made everything else around them melt. He had thought after his impulsive action she might look at him differently, but this was beyond his wildest dreams. Could it be that his impulsiveness was contagious? His hand cautiously hovered over her waist as he debated if he was indeed bold enough to put his arm around her. He felt like he was in a sauna as the sounds around them became muffled as he was overly aware of the sound of his heart beating. Or was it the sound of hers? He wasn’t sure if he technically had a heartbeat but whatever the case was as long as his eyes were on her everything was in slow motion again.

His eyes tried to spend equal time between her and the camera but there was a clear victor for his attention. “Have I told you how cute you look tonight?” Willow said with an airy giggle, deaf to the orders to smile and pay attention around her.

“Um hehe I-I don’t think so,” Hunter chuckled, his mouth dry.

“Well you do,” she giggled again, like it was some inside joke as she used her hold on his bowtie to keep him close. “Hunter, I wanted to tell you-.”

As Hunter turned his head to hear her better, he underestimated just how close they were and the movement caused their lips to touch unintentionally. Normally, that would be when Hunter melted into the floor or tried to vanish from existence, but even the small contact was enough to cause fireworks. That was when everything really stopped. It was nothing more than a peck, catching them both off guard, but there had never been a more happy accident.

She went down off her tiptoes slowly, both of them holding back any sign of a reaction until the other did. But there was no apology, nothing to be sorry for, nothing to regret, and once they both realized that they donned matching grins. They reentered reality together as the flash of the camera reminded them why they were here, and as their friends shouted their approval they also shouted out the themes of the poses they were supposed to be doing. Willow and Hunter got their bearings back and offered the camera a smile, which was not hard to do as they both couldn’t help but smile after what had just occurred. Another photo was taken and as the rest of the group moved and adjusted to do another pose, Hunter noticed his hand was still on Willow’s waist. Willow seemed to notice at the same time, and as her eyes found him again she was surprised to see he was already focused on her, or maybe he had never stopped.

Wordlessly they moved closer to each other until they realized they each possessed half of a magnet that was desperate to be kept together and found themselves in another kiss. This one was undoubtedly purposeful and not as sudden or quick as the first one. Willow’s arms went from holding his bow tie to drape around his shoulders taking a moment to plant lipstick marks all along his face. He saw the opportunity to use his hold on her waist to eagerly loft her off the ground, making a point to kiss her back. He wasn’t sure how he knew how, but he did and he felt like he could fly away as he felt her lips form a smile against his.

“Okay love birds, other people are waiting for the Photo Booth!”

It was like a record scratch as they stopped to remember where they were, eyes opening to come off whatever cloud they had been on as they faded back into reality once more. Willow leaned back to break the kiss, and Hunter couldn’t help but follow as though to savor the moment just a few moments more. She adjusted her glasses to better see the lipstick smudges she had left on his mouth and the side of his face paired with the goofy, awestruck look of disbelief.

“Sorry!” Willow giggled, as she looked around and realized the rest of their friends had left. “I guess we got carried away, huh?”

“Mhmhmhahaha,” Hunter squeaked in response, still trying to process that he was real and this was something that really happened to him in real life.

“Hunter, unless you wanna carry me out you’re gonna have to put me down,” Willow whispered.

“Oh yeah sorry yeah I can do that heh,” he said gently, setting her down. "We should uh, we should probably go.” He turned to leave but Willow caught his arm and pulled him out, so he left the correct way and didn’t re-enter the long line of other students waiting to take a photo.

“Well that’ll certainly be a photo for the scrapbook,” Willow laughed as she rested her head against his arm. They both felt that if they did not hold onto each other, they would float away. They knew the rest of the group was waiting for them by the bleachers ready to tease them, knowing from a distance they were at the ready with smirks of ‘About time’s and ‘I-told-you-so’s.

But Hunter was still lost in this impossible daydream beyond anything he thought possible. He couldn’t help but feel it had ended too soon, and now he truly had nothing standing in his way.

“Willow,” he began delicately as he cleared his throat, trying to seem calm and casual. “Would you want to uh, I-I mean if you could come with me, if you wanted to of course, outside where we could be alone, if you were okay with that, and I thought we could-.”

“Hunter and I are gonna go kiss in the hallway!” Willow announced giddily to the group as she redirected him to the door. His gaze darted between his friends and the wonderful girl who somehow read his mind, knowing thoughts he struggled to vocalize.

“Haha, whaaat? No, I mean that’s not.. I mean it’s not…” he realized it was pointless to try and hide his glee and as he allowed the dopey grin to overtake him as he embraced the moment and picked up the pace to follow her yet again and forever to no one’s surprise. “Heh, I’m Hunter.”

As they ran out the gym together, Hunter made sure to keep the door open behind them.

[somacruising]

TALES OF THE RAYS: VAN'S 2ND SKIT (ENGLISH TRANSLATION)

MASTERPOST

For some reason, I was captivated by everyone's favorite Commandant yesterday. So instead of a story update, I've decided to post a random skit of his that made me feel very soft. btw for people who don't know Rays Lore, this skit is about Van talking to Mercuria, who is the 12-year-old princess of a nation that got obliterated into nothing by a weapon. Her mom died in front of her and all she has left is her older brother. Her goal is that she wants to revive everyone who died using a technology similar to replicas. For completely unknown reasons, Van seems to resonate with this and joins her. Who knows why. It is a mystery.

For Sleepless Nights

Mercuria: *huff, huff* I’m no use to anyone if an arte like this tires me out so much. I have to train more… はぁ……はぁ……。これしきの術で息が切れるようでは役に立てぬ。もっと鍛錬を……。

[ Van enters ]

Van: It’s going to take more than that to improve your accuracy. がむしゃらに続けても精度はあがらぬぞ。

Mercuria: Van…!? Were you watching me? ヴァン……！ 見ていたのか。

Van: No, I was simply passing by. I apologize for disturbing your practice. Please get to bed soon, Princess, it’s very late now. いや、今しがた通りがかっただけだ。邪魔をした。夜も遅い、皇女殿も早く眠りなさい。

Mercuria: Ah, wait a moment. How exactly does someone improve accuracy? あっ、待ってくれ。精度を上げるとは、どうすればよいのじゃ？

Van: Let’s see… You should start with breathing techniques and martial artes. Even a caster such as yourself needs a solid foundation. そうだな……まずは呼吸法と体術を学ぶといい。術者とはいえ、ある程度の基礎は必要だ。

Mercuria: I see. I need to improve my physical strength. I was only focused on improving my mirristry skills. なるほど。体力も必要か。わらわは魔鏡術を磨くことばかりを考えておった。

Van: If you would like advice on that, you should seek out Legretta. It would benefit you to ask her. 教えを乞うのであればリグレットが適任だろう。頼んでみるといい。

Mercuria: I will. However, the fact that you picked out my shortcomings at just a glance… I think that you would be a wonderful teacher. 承知した。しかし、あれだけでわらわの至らぬ点を見抜くとはのう……。そなたは良き師となること間違いなしじゃ。

Van: Well now… you think so? Putting that aside, why are you training at such an hour? さて……どうだろうな。それよりも、何故このような時間に鍛錬をしている。

Mercuria: I woke up because I had a bad dream… I dreamed that I lost my older brother. 夢見が悪くて目が覚めてしまった。……兄上様を失う夢じゃった。

Mercuria: My brother is with me now, no matter what form he’s in. But so much is changing, I have no idea what might happen to him. My heart hurts when I think about it… どんな形であれ、今、兄上様はそばにいる。しかしこれから先はどうなるかわからぬ。そう考えると胸が苦しくて……。

Van: So you were training to try and dispel your anxiety. あれは不安を打ち消すための鍛錬だったか。

Mercuria: Anxiety… Yes, that’s it. I suppose that I’m anxious right now because I don’t know what will happen to my brother. 不安……、そうじゃな。わらわは不安なのであろう。兄上様の身に何が起こるかわからぬゆえ。

Mercuria: If only we could see the future, my dreams wouldn’t bother me so. 未来が見えればこのような夢に惑わされぬものを。

Van: No, it is precisely because we can’t see what fate has in store that we can have hope. It makes us want to do everything we can. いや、先が見えぬからこそ希望を持つことができる。手を尽くそうとも思えるのだ。

Van: Listen closely, Mercuria. Even if your training doesn’t improve your skill as much as you like, it is still a step forward to gaining the power to help your brother. 聞きなさい、メルクリア。たとえ今夜の鍛錬の成果が微々たるものだとしてもそれはいつか兄を助ける力となるだろう。

Van: Perhaps you had that nightmare in order to encourage you to gain that power. その力を身につけるために悪夢を見たのだ、と思ってはどうだ。

Mercuria: …I think you’re right. I’ll try to start thinking like that. But even so, I don’t know how I’m going to fall back asleep. ……そうじゃな。そのように考えるよう努力する。そうは言うても、簡単には寝つけぬだろうな。

Van: …My sister came to me often when she would have scary dreams and struggled to sleep. She would ask me to sing lullabies for her. ……妹も、よく怖い夢を見て眠れなくなると私のところへ来ていたな。その度に子守歌をせがまれたものだ。

Mercuria: Really, you singing a lullaby? Um…could you sing one for me, too? なんと、ヴァンが子守歌を？あの……よければ聴かせてくれぬか？

Mercuria: No one has sung a lullaby to me since my mother passed away. I’d really like to hear one again… 母上様が亡くなられてからわらわに子守歌を歌ってくれる者など誰一人いなかった。また聴けるものなら……。

Van: I… それは……。

Mercuria: I-I’m sorry… That was selfish of me. I didn’t mean to trouble you… す、すまぬ……。甘えであったな。困らせるつもりはなかったのじゃ……。

Van: ………………。

Van: Now, Princess, I want you to promise me one thing first. Keep it a secret between us that I sang for you. では皇女殿、一つ約束して欲しい。私が歌を歌ったことは私と皇女殿、二人だけの秘密にすると。

Mercuria: O-Okay! I promise! I’m really grateful, Van! わ、わかった！約束する！感謝するぞ、ヴァン！

[spartazia-blog]

Listening vs Obeying

Something I’ve been mulling over since seeing another round of discussion about Penelope and her choices specifically around the Marina and her children and Eloise LW publications is the notion of listening to someone vs obeying them. When we talk to people or provide advice, what is our expectation and goal in doing so? Are we helping and being a sounding board or are we trying to give marching orders? And, at the end of it, do we respect that ultimate decision maker in someone’s life is and should be them?

I ask because a common theme I see pop up is the idea that Pen “had” to resort to Whistledown because “no one listens to her.” But is that true? Did they really just close their ears and go “lalala” when she spoke to them? Or, is it that she was heard but she just wasn’t *obeyed*? And why do so many Penelope stans seem to have this absolute conviction that if she expresses something to someone or gives them advice, she is entitled to unquestioning compliance?

Colin listened to her about Marina loving someone else before him, he just didn’t go along with what she wanted him to do which was be horrified and cast Marina aside. In fact, he quite maturely expresses that it would hypocritical of him to do so given that he also has a past with other women. That’s really cool of him! It shows that he’s a solid and reasonable man who doesn’t judge others against a bar he wouldn’t use for himself.

Eloise listened to Penelope about she concerns (which Penelope was mostly lying about to outright gaslighting Eloise with to keep from getting caught as LW. Not to mention the hypocrisy over lecturing Eloise about going to ‘bad parts of town unchaperoned’ while Penelope was doing the exact same thing), Eloise just decided that her conversations and friendship with Theo along with expanding her mind at the rallies she was attending were worth the risk. Which, again, very cool. No matter how people try to spin Eloise as some selfish asshole, her pushing back against the box the patriarchal society she exists in and wanting to reach beyond the arbitrary barriers of class and gender placed on her is very brave and admirable.

Even Marina listened to Penelope about her objections to the Colin plan but was in desperate straits after Portia (whom the fandom never seems to want to blame for her part in that whole debacle or who does get to be applauded for doing whatever she needs for her children…hmmm…qWHITE interesting that point) locked her away, put the fear of God into her, and tried to sell her to a man who INSPECTED MARINA’S TEETH, so forged ahead. Marina’s choices are definitely murky and unfair to Colin but the idea that she was doing anything for some sort of diabolical and cruel reason and not out of desperation and fear driven by the terrible way society would treat her and, more importantly, her innocent children, is just not borne out by the narrative. And anyone trying to claim otherwise is not someone I can take seriously. Marina’s first choice being her children should be more admired than Portia’s choices but somehow, Marina is a villain while Portia is “complicated and flawed.” I cannot talk about Marina without wanting to wrap her in blankets and protect her from both the fandom and what I fear the show has in store for her. I admit this bias freely.

Penelope is never fully honest with people and then, when they don’t follow her marching orders on how she thinks they should operate, she goes nuclear and takes their choices away from them. Penelope is not the god of the people in her life’s lives. She is not *entitled* to being obeyed (even if you think she is 100% in the right when giving advice, this is still the case). People have their own minds, their own free will, and the right to make their own decisions and mistakes. Penelope needs to learn both to fully be honest and speak up as herself AND to accept that she is not the boss of the people in her life. There is no way she can be a healthy partner in her relationship with Colin (or anyone!) if she operates under the theory that if someone won’t take her advice willingly, she will just force their hand. And her stans need to learn the difference between being listened to and being obeyed.

I think she can. And I think, if her arc is done well, that will be a big point of growth for her. She will learn to use her words and her voice, as herself. She’ll learn to trust the people in her life - because she doesn’t really trust anyone right now - and she’ll learn to see the people in her life are entitled to autonomy. I just hope the fandom can learn the same.

P. S. This is all coming from someone who is a Polin fan desperately hoping their season gives me the growth and story I desire while dreading what I think is actually in store for them so miss me with the “hater” bs I can already sense coming.

[feminismisstillahatemovement]

Hello. I’ve been following you, unofficially, for a little bit (like a shadow I guess). I agree with a good number of your statements (and can agree to disagree with others). I had a few questions about some and wanted to ask them. 

Do you find any validity in the LGBTQ+ movement?

Are you a men’s rights activist or with the men’s rights movement?

Are you a Trump supporter? (I don’t believe you ever said, so this is just a random question)

Why do you not believe in a patriarchy? Do you think any such systems exist that lean toward / favor men? If so, do you believe it’s the same for women?

What do you think of the BLM movement? 

In your opinion, does structural/systemic racism exist? Why or why not?

What political ideology do you alight with most? (I’d guess conservative or maybe even libertarian lite)

And to end, one last random one: do do you think that the extravert ideal is highly favored in the US/western countries? What do you think about the extravert ideal?

You have the right to keep your opinions under wraps. But honestly, I don’t see that being a concern for you, seeing how outspoken you are. Also, sorry for how much pure, unbridled hate you get for simply having opinions that are not [popular] with the mainstream. You don’t deserve that, no one deserves that, and I just wanted to tell ya. :)

Have a good one! 

Wow, those are all good questions but this would be an insanely long post if I went into the detail each one deserves, so I'll try keep it short.

(SPOILER: I failed.)

Do you find any validity in the LGBTQ+ movement?

Yes to the first and particularly second letters, as the historical criminalization and brutal persecution of consensual homosexuality was always cruel and unjust, though lesbianism was and is comparatively excused and overlooked and rarely violently oppressed to anything like the same degree. The "Bi" and "Q" parts are largely superfluous, and the "T" part has no real reason to be in there at all, since gender dysphoria is a medical condition, not a sexuality.

As with the feminist movement, I think any substantial and just goals were achieved decades ago and I don't see any defensible reason for the perpetual hostility and relentless promotion of LGBTQRAMZ24JL%$🧸 propaganda in the 21st century: the last campaign I can remember holding any water was the push for recognition of gay marriage, and little before that for a long time: most gay activism today seems to come from a vengeful, privileged and protected position chiefly concerned with bullying others, like the monsters going all out to hound and destroy the Christian owners of a cake shop who politely declined to bake a gay wedding cake that went against their religious beliefs. The oppressed have become the oppressors, and it's very ugly to see. Celebration of other people's sexual activity should never be mandatory, and all the corporations hauling out their rainbow flags year after year are weird, preachy, tiresome and unwanted, so all these actions will inevitably lead to an exhaustion of goodwill and tolerance in the larger populace, which in the long run will not benefit gay people at all.

Are you a men’s rights activist or with the men’s rights movement?

No, I don't consider myself so: when I first got red-pilled I hung out in some MRA spaces, because they were the only ones at the time discussing the things I was thinking about, but I haven't checked in on them in over 10 years. All political movements tend towards echo chambers and extremism, even when a good many of their positions are solid and their goals are just. I don't feel comfortable with any labels, so I just go my own way, do my own thing and think for myself, take each issue as it arises and try to locate and align myself with whatever truth can be found in it.

Are you a Trump supporter? (I don’t believe you ever said, so this is just a random question)

I'm not American, so I don't directly have a dog in the race, but the media misrepresentation and bias against Trump, along with the political persecution, has been so overwhelming, relentless, unprecedentedly blatant and unjust, that if I was American I would certainly vote for him, simply because those who are openly conspiring against him have been revealed over the past 6 years or so to be so much worse. And, unlike all the career politicians "on" "both" "sides" who do nothing but trot out pretty, hollow and meaningless untruths while serving military-industrial interests and the status quo, I think he really does represent some kind of necessary, urgent and beneficial change, so I hope he gets re-elected in 2024.

Why do you not believe in a patriarchy?

At least in the west, it's a silly and hysterical conspiracy theory that has little grounding in reality, essentially asserting that all human civilization is best explained as a conspiracy on behalf of all men to benefit all men through the oppression and exploitation of all women, but that somehow no men are aware of or in on. To believe such nonsense you have to have either never known, liked or talked to ANY man, or be insane. Or both.

Western civilization is the very opposite of what feminists claim, in that it has always given special provisions and protections to women that men have never had, and attempted to curb and punish the selfish and sociopathic tendencies of the minority of dangerous men. It's the carving out of some civility in the wild and brutal dog-rape-dog natural world, which has benefited women enormously, but is massively under attack from every left-wing movement today: the advent of things like the current gender ideology, largely started or supported by feminism, is now clearly and inarguably harming real women, and stripping away protections so many of them never even realized they had.

And teaching women to hate and avoid men, and to instead seek fulfillment only in selfishness and wage-slavery: this has just produced millions upon millions of miserable, lonely and entirely unfulfilled women. Feminism is cancer.

Do you think any such systems exist that lean toward / favor men? If so, do you believe it’s the same for women?

It appears to me the modern Islamic world, which is probably the closest thing to what feminists would call an actual "patriarchy", does unjustly curtail women's freedoms and human rights, though that's better understood as springing from a perpetually warring desert culture's "round up the wagons" mindset and aim of overprotection of women, rather than as evidence of some innate universal male misogyny.

In the west, there are no institutionalized systems that favor men: all of them greatly and unjustly over-favor women. And now trans-women.

What do you think of the BLM movement?

A thoroughly corrupt and enormously destructive money-making scam.

In your opinion, does structural/systemic racism exist? Why or why not?

I think there has historically been undeniable institutional bias against black people. I also think all human beings, black and white and everyone else, have in-group biases that cause them to distrust and fear those who they consider outsiders: who look, dress, think or believe differently to themselves. What in recent times we've come to, often inaccurately, label "racIST" behaviour is more helpfully seen as just an outcrop of our innate tribalism, which is both fortunately and unfortunately evolutionarily hardwired into us all, so I think on the large scale it's unproductive to approach such behaviour as simply a moral failing, labelling people "bad" or "good" and leaving it at that.

I really like it when I see black and white people getting along and genuinely liking each other, rather than just uncomfortably walking on eggshells trying to not upset the other, but I think that's something that either just happens or doesn't: it can't and shouldn't be engineered, mandated or forced in any way.

While prejudice against black people still undoubtably exists on an individual level, it has been completely and exhaustively stripped from all western institutions, and black people are now hugely over-represented in most areas of society, which, again, cannot help but lead to resentment in the rest of the populations of western countries, who are now being openly and gleefully discriminated against every day. This is so stupid, and needlessly provocative, and could have been avoided by just sticking with equal rights and opportunities for all citizens and not going further, but the simple fact is all the identity politics movements are incapable of stopping once they have realized their original goals. It's inevitable they overreach and become a negative force themselves. They never fail to behave this way.

What political ideology do you align with most? (I’d guess conservative or maybe even libertarian lite)

Genuinely none. As with religion, I think there are understandable reasons for all of the major ones to exist and speak to people, all representing genuine and necessary human concerns from many different and valid positions. I find things that speak to me in Socialism, Anarchism, Progressivism, Libertarianism, Conservatism, Nationalism, Liberalism and whatever else. But I don't feel any of them actually represent me in any way, except on a few narrow, specific, isolated issues, so I consider voting little more than weighing up and selecting the lesser of many evils, and don't find myself actively aligning with or enthusiastically supporting any of them.

And to end, one last random one: do you think that the extravert ideal is highly favored in the US/western countries? What do you think about the extravert ideal?

I'm not sure if you've just misspelled "extrovert" or if you're specifically referring to the Jungian use of the term of "seeking fulfilment outside of the self". I guess it must be the latter.

Yes, I do think the western world, originally starting with, and spreading from, America, has become a hungry mouth that can never be filled or sated, and that consumerism is a hollow pipedream, destructive and corrosive in every part of human life. So many people today will unabashedly do anything for money, which they singlemindedly pursue simply to spend on things, which they falsely assume will bring them happiness. I've got family members whose entire daily lives seem to revolve around buying the next new thing: another toy, another holiday, another trip to another expensive restaurant - and they don't seem capable of stopping and enjoying or finding deep meaning or fulfillment in any of them.

True happiness is found only in the selflessness of love, in family, community, the pursuit of wisdom, truth and meaning, and helping others. Your funko pops collection will go in a landfill site when you die.

[movedtodykedvonte]

Deltarune Symbiote au

yall came out swinging with these au ideas

Okay so in this au the soul is more overtly parasitic than possessive, maybe a sort of time space virus  or magic curse that only affects humans who can’t use magic to fight it off

The soul is quit literally latched onto Kris’ body like a leech that is feeding off them. The reason it’s red in this au is a different reason than mere the type of soul it is...

Similarly how the symbiote usually enhances your worst traits to a dangerous degree, the soul would enhance your positive traits to an uncanny degree

Kris is way too friendly and eager to not be a menace, the soul constantly tries to make Kris the hero and fufill it’s goal of assimilating into their person/hometown

It constantly whispers encouragement to Kris and acts like a persistent angel on their shoulder. Kris hates it cause it’s an active emotional and physical drain 

The others would be more aware of the difference and strangeness of kris in this au. Physical changes like walking with a skip in their step, his pupils would be gone, completely red when the soul is very active, their words seeming to trial or hesitate as if they are trying to remember lines being told to them or an odd echo

In the dark worlds it’s even worse. The soul has full control there and it feels as if its actually just pulling their body around

Battles are the soul detaching to defend its host, it’s less pretty than simply having the soul being pulled out for battle, still attached to kris to feed off them, tendril like veins connecting them

Ralsei and Susie are concerned but human souls are still a phenomenon and Kris doesn’t talk about it when asked (even if they'd like to) so they assume it’s just a quirk

It’s the only time the soul shows any violence or drops the act of niceness or being controlling

When Kris tears it out, I feel like it actively wriggles and fights, tendrils trying to reconnect to them, the cage is replaced by a metal box

The soul opens dark worlds by space time crap, probably attaching itself to items and creating rifts into the worlds. It’s a solid way to reattach to Kris

I figure the knight is the soul in a more wild form, like when the symbiote is just slithering around but it can take a bigger and more stable form for a short time in the dark world

I said send shitty aus I could actually flesh this out into something. The horror of the soul actually being a thing that can take you over and has a more physical presence, being able to do things if not attached to them directly. A concern that if they don’t sacrifice themself someone else could get hurt

[projectcaramel]

Fridge Monster (2) - Obey Me! Beelzebub

"Uh, Candice...?" 

"Yes?" I didn't look up from my project, only adjusting my magitech glasses as I worked with a halfstone plate. Slowly, the enchantment was coming together. 

"Do you know where the ketchup is?" I finally turned my eyes away from my work and glanced at Beel who shifted nervously in the doorway of my makeshift workshop. For some reason, I was reminded of a large dog being afraid to move for fear of knocking something over. 

"No," I lied.

"What about the fridge?" 

"No," I lied again. 

"C-Come on, Candice," he pleaded. "I know there's food here somewhere. I can smell it." 

"Beelzebub, restrain yourself," I admonished, and I think I managed to sound quite harsh. 

"You're hiding it from me, aren't you?" he asked plaintively. "I'm hungry dammit!" I jumped as his fist swung into the wall. I decided the house would have to be fortified. "Why would you hide food from me?" 

"Because I want to preserve our living expenses," I replied, standing from my spot and removing my gloves. "Particularly right now. Since you can't resist temptation for longer than two or three hours, I have to force you into exercising restraint. Think of your brother.” For a moment, Beel almost froze himself solid, his mouth falling open in the moment of shock before the orange-haired male became subdued. The letter “B” came off his lips before he shook himself and smiled. 

“Fine. For Lucifer, I’ll try.” 

“Good. In the meantime, I’m working with someone else to develop an appetite suppressant for you. And before you get worried, no it’s not Solomon, and no the goal isn’t to make you feel sick to your stomach.” Beel stared at me for a long moment. 

“Is... that what you’re working on now?” He pointed at the plate, and I glanced down at it, as if I’d forgotten it was there. Which, I had, temporarily. 

“Well, it’s part of a larger project, but yes, it can be used in application with your problem. It’s just a simple magic conversion circuit.” At Beel’s blank look, I hastened to show him and explain. “See, this ars glyph branches into super and avari, which get channeled into these glyphs—ira, gula, luxur, invidi, acedi...” I kept pointing to each glyph and the accompanying strands, but Beel only seemed to get even more confused the more I tried to explain. “Okay, so, if I were to send a magic pulse through this circuit, depending on the attributes running through it, the circuit will send out an output pulse that could be electrical, chemical, kinetic, potential... I’m still working on more complicated translations like nuclear and radiant energy, but it’s a circuit similar to this one that helps your D.D.D. operate without a battery.” 

“Eh? Really?” Beel questioned, startled, and I nodded. 

“It all starts from little things,” I replied, and his eyes lingered on the circuit. 

“Little?” he mumbled. “But that thing is so complicated...” 

“Please; this is nothing compared to programming,” I replied. Now there was something I disliked doing, particularly here. Adding a magic variable into the already difficult mess that was coding was just asking for a mental breakdown. Nothing quite like having a problem and not knowing where it starts or how to fix it. 

“...Candice, has anyone ever told you that you’re incredible?” The comment gave me pause. 

“Well, no,” I replied after a moment. “At least not in that vocalization.” The most I usually got from people was “cool” or “good job”. Maybe I have an unrealistic idea of what people are capable of doing? “Thank you. I appreciate it.” Beel smiled happily, and for a moment, I think my heart fluttered again...

“It’s funny,” he said. “When I listen to you talk so happily about what you’re doing, I don’t feel so hungry anymore.” 

...I really must be ill. 

—

“God, I can finally see,” I cried as I opened my eyes for the first time since I’d gotten IOS. It had been a quick procedure, probably quicker than laser eye surgery, and the best part was that they reconstructed the eye as they worked, so I didn’t have to worry about the little side effects that would have resulted from much more involved, less successful surgery. That, and it was mostly painless. “Is this what people with normal vision feel like?”

“Welcome to the world of 20/20 vision,” the doctor said with a chuckle. “Check back with me in a week so that we can make certain there are no abnormalities being caused by flawed magic, but other than that, you’re free to explore the world without worries.” 

“Thank you,” I practically gasped, and I had to resist the sudden, nearly uncontrollable urge to hug her. It was an odd feeling, particularly considering I wasn’t the type of person to engage in that kind of affectionate physical contact. Or any physical contact, come to think of it. 

When I walked outside the office, I was surprised to find Beelzebub waiting for me, in his typical workout clothes. “What, does Lucifer not trust me to get home by myself?” I asked with a little mocking tone. 

“Er... no, I just... I went for a jog, and I thought it’d be lonely if you just went back by yourself.” Beel rubbed the back of his head, looking a little uncomfortable. “Should I not have?” 

“You shouldn’t have,” I confirmed, though I wasn’t trying to be unkind. “But I appreciate it anyway. Thank you.” Beelzebub smiled again before he started walking with me, back in the direction of the House of Lamentation. 

"You really do look different without your glasses," Beel said with a little smile, and I glanced up at him. 

"Do I?" He nodded. "Are you complaining?" He shook his head. 

"It's not bad or anything... Candice is always Candice. You'll always be pretty." 

"Are you trying to flatter me so I'll lift your food restrictions?" I asked with a snort as his stomach growled. 

“Ah... no...” he replied, even as I handed him a cereal bar I’d brought with me. He stared as it as if he didn’t know what it was. 

“I’m not going to eat it,” I explained. “So you can have it.” 

“Thank you,” Beel replied, and it almost sounded like he’d gotten choked up as he gratefully ripped open the wrapper and chomped down on the puffed grains. I think it was effectively a rice cake stuck together with sugar, so I didn’t particularly care for it. That, and I’d already had three cups of coffee. “So,” Beel said after a moment as he stuffed the wrapper in his pocket, “How much have we saved since you started forcing me to starve?” 

“You’ll have to ask Lucifer,” I replied, even as I looked around the town again. “I haven’t asked to see the bills, so he’s the only one who knows how much the House of Lamentation is spending right now. That said, working towards really reducing costs will require everyone’s contribution—the only one who doesn’t habitually spend a small fortune is myself.” I sighed. “To be honest, I tackled your expenses first because you seemed like the easiest one to handle.”

“Oh.” Beel thought for a moment. “So you’re planning on limiting the others too?” 

“Yes.” I inclined my head. “Satan will probably be next; broaching the subject aside, once I actually get him into the conversation, he should be reasonable as long as no one butts their head in. And then... probably Asmodeus, but the jump in difficulty makes me wonder if it's manageable." I sighed. "Well, I suppose I should at least thank you for being easier to deal with than I thought. For someone so obsessed with food, I'd never imagined my plans would go this well."

"Well, you're welcome," he replied unsurely. "But... Why are you doing this much? I don't think Lucifer would ask you to do it..." I glanced at Beel before I looked forward. 

"To be honest," I said after a moment, "I guess you could say it's just me trying to pay back the House of Lamentation in my own way. I realize my social skills are lacking, and I can be incredibly touchy. I'd rather be a useful annoyance than just a plain annoyance." 

"Is that really how you think we see you?" Beel asked, and I was surprised at the hurt in his voice. I found myself stopping next to the demon. 

"Well, I'm sure you've figured out by now that I'm not the sporty type," I replied with a wry smile. "You wouldn't believe the number of times I've almost snapped at you just because you were talking about the things you like." 

"So what?" Beel stepped in front of me so that we were face to face rather than side by side. I say face to face, but I still had to look up at him. "Candice, I don't think of you like that. I never have. And I don't think any of the others have either. I think you can be really mean sometimes, but I always thought that was a part of you just like how smart you are or how nice you can be." 

"Beel," I said, a bit too stunned to say anything else. Well, I suppose that just like me, Beel had a habit of saying exactly what he meant. He was easy to understand that way. "Thank you," I concluded eventually. 

And this time, I listened to the part of me that wanted to give Beel a hug. He returned it easily, and I almost yelped as he lifted me off the ground with ease, instinctively clutching at his muscular back. I think it was only at that point that I fully realized why all of the athletes at RAD respected him. That... and it was nice to be hugged so tightly.  

<< Previous | Next >>

[xenofact]

The Double Void of Artificial Intelligence

My regular readers are likely to be split on me discussing Artificial Intelligence. For some, you are doubtlessly curious or at least hope to see me be entertainlgy sarcastic. For others you’re just tired of hearing about “AI,” a concern I share. Don’t worry, it’s well within my usual discussions of mysticism, psychology, and religion.

As I write this in 2024, many a person is glad to sing the praises of AI. They also want to shoehorn it into every product and technology available. This desire to raise stock prices while creating bad will and endless security problems is painful, but the claims are also grating. It’s obvious to anyone with some understanding that so-called AI is essentially complex probabilistic systems that produce what (on the surface) seems to be “real.” Well, real except for being told to eat poisonous plants or presenting pictures with inordinate numbers of fingers.

Fortunately this age of faux AI also has people asking “what is intelligence?” One of the things that pops up again and again is that “intelligence is a process.” Intelligence is not something we can hold on to or grasp (or put in a box), but is a thing that occurs, it is an action. Intelligence is not something activated and shut down, but an ongoing activity.

If you’ve ever done studies of meditation, religion, and so on, this is going to sound quite familiar. Many a Buddist practitioner knows that moment where you can’t find a solid self, just a whirling thing. Taoist Meditators may speak of the entangled complexities that create the everyday mind, and the hope to see through them to a kind of spontaneous Celestial Mind. Practitioners of energetics experience mind and body as wheels and swirls and flows of energy, without solidity..

In my own meditations and experiments, I’ve experienced moments where I realize there is no me, there are just these processes. Yes the goal of many meditations is to refine oneself or see through illusion or however you want to put it - but you do learn a lot about your mind. If you practiced any form of meditation, I’m sure you’ve had those moments where you’re there but you’re not there because the you there isn’t a solid thing at all.

You’re a constant process. Evaluating. Thinking. Feeling. Modeling. Adjusting. You’re not going to be duplicated by some language toys, though your employer might try so be careful.

Now I’m not saying that “Ancient Wisdom” explains everything or predicts AI. I am saying that thousands of years of meditators, breath practitioners, and people asking “what does this mushroom taste like” will have accumulated a lot of insights in time. When you’re there looking into the self - and intelligence - you’re going to learn things.

And one thing I’d say is screamingly obvious from all these psychonauts is we’re processes so intelligence clearly is. This also is yet another reason to disregard AI as any form of actual intelligence. It’s not a process, just a bunch of triggered code and data using some complex math.

Kindly respect that your fellow humans are processes, void of any solidity whatsoever.

- Xenofact

[captainrazzzledazzle]

@mr-kench

Wow you uh… you ok there ? Not sure what you were trying to do here but I’ll give you points for creativity, and hey at least you portrayed the conversation accurately, I asked questions and you kept telling me you gave me proof when all you did was continue to make vague claims.. 

I did say I was done but now I’m perplexed, you genuinely don’t seem to understand why I have no reason to believe what you say because you haven’t provided anything concrete, like you just don’t understand the concept of evidence. I’ll try to explainone last time myself as best as I can and why your arguments don't stand as is.

You said that in the leaks an unnamed consultant company was mentioned, however by your own accord the leaks are nowhere to be found now, so you can’t even see them yourself. You didn’t quote anything from the leaks or told me where to find archives or screenshots and you didn’t offer any precision on what exactly was said about the consultant company. You just implied that it was named as a reason why Spiderman 2 had to make rewrites in the leaks. That is not proof, your source here is literally just “trust me bro” tell me why I should take what you said at face value here ?

You said you “noticed patterns” and that you had a list of games that were negatively affected by SBI implying that SBI was the cause for games having to scrap content and make rewrites, yet you only listed spiderman 2 (you can’t make a list with only one thing ?!) and even then as I said above, there is no real evidence that spiderman 2’s cut content was because of SBI, and even how exactly it affected the game. So far you had only provided speculations. If you were to make a constructed argument here, you’d give me some of the names of games in that list and links to articles saying they had to make rewrites or to cut content. GIVE ME THAT DAMN LIST DINGUS >:(

Also most games have to cut content or make rewrites for a plethora of reasons, Elden Ring had to cut huge chunks of content for example because it was too ambitious, Overwatch 2 cut the whole PVE campaign and only released what are really just half-assed archive missions. Half-life 2 had to scrap 2 years of work because it wasn’t up to par with the rest of the game and SBI didn’t have anything to do with any of these games. The quality of the games I cited above vary a lot despite making cuts. Cut contents and rewrites aren't an indicator of quality just of setbacks in the developpment.

When I asked what you meant by corrupt, you said that the people working at SBI’s main goal was social justice, how is that being corrupt ? You then said that “they also make it clear in that same space the ultimate goal is to control how people think”, again, how do they make it clear, do you have any quote or link ?

Your main "proof" of SBI being bad and biggoted was you vaguely gesturing at twitter and telling me to go look at SBI’s employees posts, if you truly had something you could’ve given me ANYTHING, a twitter handle, a screenshot, an article. I am not going to scour twitter looking for proof for your argument. And from what I did see there was only one employee who asked people to report a steam group because they were getting harassed in mass because of said group.

You seem convinced that Miles being the "ambassador of his culture" as you put it is the fault of SBI, and not the original decision of the studio. Changing characters, and any big creative decisions are not what SBI do when they work with studios, they don't go around telling devs to completely change their characters. That wouldn't be feasible anyway because the edevs would have to redo pretty much everything if the main character was fundamentally changed. Go look at the links at the bottom of this post to find articles talking about what SBI really do.

Tl;dr : At any point in the conversation instead of getting increasingly angrier you could have just shut me up with solid proof If you had any. You weren’t even able to point to one of those videos peddling misinformation and ragebaiting. You gave no screenshot, no article, no link, no name or twitter handle, not even a quote. Nothing concrete, simply nothing at all. When you make wild claims like you did, the burden falls on YOU to substantiate it with evidence and proof. Claims alone aren’t arguments and they aren’t proof. People don’t live in your head; you need to actually build up an argument to convince others. I can't just take you at your words when you make insane claims.

But I know why you provided nothing. You didn’t notice patterns. You didn’t make lists. You didn’t do any research. All these ideas in your head aren’t yours, you watched a video, or read an inflammatory post that told you what to think, and what to be mad about. And you didn’t need convincing, you were already mad and wanted a target so you just went along with it because it was so easy to swallow. Do you even know why your claims are so vague ? It’s because the guy you got them from who made the steam group “SBI detected”, also had opinions based solely on vague feelings. He never even fucking played the games he claims are “different” and that "show a pattern" ! And here, some real fucking juicy PROOF (start at 2:19, he states he didn't play the game at 2:28).

Is there tokenization in media and video games ? Yes of course, and it sucks ! Is Sweet Baby Inc. the big bad that is surgically taking out all the fun from your favorite games ? Absolutely the fuck not ! There is no easy answer, no single target to remove that will magically solve everything. So launching a whole harassment campaign against them won’t make your games better, you’re just punishing people for nothing. Executives that want minorities’ money and who don’t care about art or storytelling are the ones making horrible decisions that make games worse as a result.

If after all of this you still don't want to buy games that SBI worked on at some point, great that's your choice, as long as you're not spreading lies and participating in harassment.

Here are three articles that provide proof of research on the subject and infos on what Sweet Baby Inc. actually does, and one explaining that the cut content and the rewrites in Spiderman 2 was because of Sony.

Kotaku Game Developer Wired Tech 4 Gamers

Bisous je m’envole.

[duckprintspress]

Giving Quality, Motivating Feedback

A guest post by @shealynn88!

The new writer in your writing group just sent out their latest story and it’s...not exciting. You know it needs work, but you’re not sure why, or where they should focus.

This is the blog post for you!

Before we get started, it’s important to note that this post isn’t aimed at people doing paid editing work. In the professional world, there are developmental editors, line editors, and copy editors, who all have a different focus. That is not what we’re covering here. Today, we want to help you informally give quality, detailed, encouraging feedback to your fellow writers.

The Unwritten Rules

Everyone seems to have a different understanding of what it means to beta, edit, or give feedback on a piece, so it’s best to be on the same page with your writer before you get started.

Think about what type of work you’re willing and able to do, how much time you have, and how much emotional labor you’re willing to take on. Then talk to your writer about their expectations.

Responsibilities as an editor/beta may include:

Know what the author’s expectation is and don’t overstep. Different people in different stages of writing are looking for, and will need, different types of support. It’s important to know what pieces of the story they want feedback on. If they tell you they don’t want feedback on dialogue, don’t give them feedback on dialogue. Since many terms are ambiguous or misunderstood, it may help you to use the list of story components in the next section to come to an agreement with your writer on what you’ll review.

Don’t offer expertise you don’t have. If your friend needs advice on their horse book and you know nothing about horses, be clear that your read through will not include any horse fact checking. Don’t offer grammar advice if you’re not good at grammar. It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t give feedback on things you do notice, but don’t misrepresent yourself, and understand your own limits.

Give positive and constructive feedback. It is important for a writer to know when something is working well. Don’t skimp on specific positive feedback — this is how you keep writers motivated. On the other hand, giving constructive feedback indicates where there are issues. Be specific on what you’re seeing and why it’s an issue. It can be hard for someone to improve if they don’t understand what’s wrong.

Be clear about your timing and availability, and provide updates if either changes. Typically, you’ll be doing this for free, as you’re able to fit it in your schedule. But it can be nerve wracking to hand your writing over for feedback and then hear nothing. For everyone’s sanity, keep the writer up to date on your expected timeline and let them know if you’re delayed for some reason. If you cannot complete the project for them, let them know. This could be for any reason — needing to withdraw, whatever the cause, is valid! It could be because working with the writer is tough, you don’t enjoy the story, life got tough, you got tired, etc. All of that is fine; just let them know that you won’t be able to continue working on the project.

Be honest if there are story aspects you can’t be objective about. Nearly all of your feedback is going to be personal opinion. There are some story elements that will evoke strong personal feelings. They can be tropes, styles, specific characterizations, or squicks. In these cases, ask the writer to get another opinion on that particular aspect, or, if you really want to continue, find similar published content to review and see if you can get a better sense of how other writers have handled it.

Don’t get personal. Your feedback should talk about the characters, the narrator, the plotline, the sentence structure, or other aspects of the story. Avoid making ‘you’ statements or judgements, suggested or explicit, in your feedback. Unless you’re looking at grammar or spelling, most of the feedback you’ll have will be your opinion. Don’t present it as fact.

Your expectations of the writer/friend/group member you are working with may include:

Being gracious in accepting feedback. A writer may provide explanations for an issue you noticed or seek to discuss your suggestions. However, if they constantly argue with you, that may be an indicator to step back.

Being responsible for emotional reactions to getting feedback. While getting feedback can be hard on the ego and self esteem, that is something the writer needs to work on themselves. While you can provide reassurance and do emotional labor if you’re comfortable, it is also very reasonable to step back if the writer isn’t ready to do that work.

Making the final choice regarding changes to the work. The writer should have a degree of confidence in accepting or rejecting your feedback based on their own sense of the story. While they may consult you on this, the onus is on them to make changes that preserve the core of the story they want to tell.

Some people aren’t ready for feedback, even though they’re seeking it. You’re not signing up to be a psychologist, a best friend, or an emotional support editor. You can let people know in advance that these are your expectations, or you can just keep them in mind for your own mental health. As stated above, you can always step back from a project, and if writers aren’t able to follow these few guidelines, it might be a good time to do that. (It’s also worth making sure that, as a writer, you’re able to give these things to your beta/editor.)

Specificity is Key

One of the hardest things in editing is pinning down the ‘whys’ of unexciting work, so let’s split the writing into several components and talk about evaluations you can make for each one.

You can also give this list to your writer ahead of time as a checklist, to see which things they want your feedback on.

Generally, your goal is going to be to help people improve incrementally. Each story they write should be better than the previous one, so you don’t need to go through every component for every story you edit. Generally, I wouldn’t suggest more than 3 editing rounds on any single story that isn’t intended for publication. Think of the ‘many pots’ theory — people who are honing their craft will improve more quickly by writing a lot of stories instead of incessantly polishing one.

With this in mind, try addressing issues in the order below, from general to precise. It doesn’t make sense to critique grammar and sentence structure if the plot isn’t solid, and it can be very hard on a writer to get feedback on all these components at once. If a piece is an early or rough draft, try evaluating no more than four components at a time, and give specific feedback on what does and doesn’t work, and why.

High Level Components

Character arc/motivation:

Does each character have a unique voice, or do they all sound the same?

In dialogue, are character voices preserved? Do they make vocabulary and sentence-structure choices that fit with how they’re being portrayed?

Does each character have specific motivations and focuses that are theirs alone?

Does each character move through the plot naturally, or do they seem to be shoehorned/railroaded into situations or decisions for the sake of the plot? Be specific about which character actions work and which don’t. Tell the writer what you see as their motivation/arc and why—and point out specific lines that indicate that motivation to you.

Does each character's motivation seem to come naturally from your knowledge of them?

Are you invested (either positively or negatively) in the characters? If not, why not? Is it that they have nothing in common with you? Do you not understand where they’re coming from? Are they too perfect or too unsympathetic?

Theme:

It’s a good idea to summarize the story and its moral from your point of view and provide that insight to the writer. This can help them understand if the points they were trying to make come through. The theme should tie in closely with the character arcs. If not, provide detailed feedback on where it does and doesn’t tie in.

Plot Structure:

For most issues with plot structure, you can narrow them down to pacing, characterization, logical progression, or unsatisfying resolution. Be specific about the issues you see and, when things are working well, point that out, too.

Is there conflict that interests you? Does it feel real?

Is there a climax? Do you feel drawn into it?

Do the plot points feel like logical steps within the story?

Is the resolution tied to the characters and their growth? Typically this will feel more real and relevant and satisfying than something you could never have seen coming.

Is the end satisfying? If not, is it because you felt the end sooner and the story kept going? Is it because too many threads were left unresolved? Is it just a matter of that last sentence or two being lackluster?

Point Of View:

Is the point of view clear and consistent?

Is the writing style and structure consistent with that point of view? For example, if a writer is working in first person or close third person, the style of the writing should reflect the way the character thinks. This extends to grammar, sentence structure, general vocabulary and profanity outside of the dialogue.

If there is head hopping (where the point of view changes from chapter to chapter or section to section), is it clear in the first few sentences whose point of view you’re now in? Chapter headers can be helpful, but it should be clear using structural, emotional, and stylistic changes that you’re with a new character now.

Are all five senses engaged? Does the character in question interact with their environment in realistic, consistent ways that reflect how people actually interact with the world?

Sometimes the point of view can feel odd if it’s too consistent. Humans don’t typically think logically and linearly all the time, so being in someone’s head may sometimes be contradictory or illogical. If it’s too straightforward, it might not ‘feel’ real.

Be specific about the areas that don’t work and break them down based on the questions above.

Pacing:

Does the story jump around, leaving you confused about what took place when?

Do some scenes move quickly where others drag, and does that make sense within the story?

If pacing isn’t working, often it’s about the level of detail or the sentence structure. Provide detailed feedback about what you care about in a given scene to help a writer focus in.

Setting:

Is the setting clear and specific? Writing with specific place details is typically more rooted, interesting, and unique. If you find the setting vague and/or uninteresting and/or irrelevant, you might suggest replacing vague references — ‘favorite band’, ‘coffee shop on the corner’, ‘the office building’ — with specific names to ground the setting and make it feel more real.

It might also be a lack of specific detail in a scene that provides context beyond the characters themselves. Provide specific suggestions of what you feel like you’re missing. Is it in a specific scene, or throughout the story? Are there scenes that work well within the story, where others feel less grounded? Why?

Low Level Components

Flow/Sentence Structure:

Sentence length and paragraph length should vary. The flow should feel natural.

When finding yourself ‘sticking’ on certain sentences, provide specific feedback on why they aren’t working. Examples are rhythm, vocabulary, subject matter (maybe something is off topic), ‘action’ vs ‘explanation’, passive vs. active voice.

Style/Vocabulary:

Writing style should be consistent with the story — flowery prose works well for mythic or historical pieces and stories that use that type of language are typically slower moving. Quick action and short sentences are a better fit for murder mysteries, suspense, or modern, lighter fiction.

Style should be consistent within the story — it may vary slightly to show how quickly action is happening, but you shouldn’t feel like you’re reading two different stories.

SPAG (Spelling and Grammar):

Consider spelling and grammar in the context of the point of view, style and location of the story (eg, England vs. America vs. Australia).

If a point of view typically uses incorrect grammar, a SPAG check will include making sure that it doesn’t suddenly fall into perfect grammar for a while. In this case, consistency is going to be important to the story feeling authentic.

Word Count Requirements:

If the story has been written for a project, bang, anthology, zine, or other format that involves a required word count minimum or maximum, and the story is significantly over or under the aimed-for word count (30% or more/less), it may not make sense to go through larger edits until the sizing is closer to requirements. But, as a general rule, I’d say word count is one of the last things to worry about.

*

The best thing we can do for another writer is to keep them writing. Every single person will improve if they keep going. Encouragement is the most important feedback of all.

I hope this has helped you think about how you provide feedback. Let us know if you have other tips or tricks! This works best as a collaborative process where we all can support one another!

[shorkbrian]

A Midsommar Night’s Dream

Prelude - I watched midsommar so have this.

Pairing - Izuku X reader X Todoroki males

Warnings - NSFW, dead dove, do not eat. Implied incest, cult-like behaviors. Dubcon.

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/7clyJIrLkEbXUDwj1tC9zz?si=EK3gCdOHQ3WQeK-ed9eucg 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Izuku’s been officially dating you for three weeks.

Three weeks.

He’s known you for far longer - the two of you solid friends since you first met. The man doesn’t know when friendship had evolved into something more, but he’s sure glad it did.

You were sweet, and kind, and far too caring for your own good. You didn’t mind waiting up for Izuku when his nights ran late, studying for his masters or taking on extra shifts.

You would rub his shoulders when he got stressed, offer to make him tea or run him a bath or anything else he needed, anything to help out. You loved him, and he loved you.

Tonight was a night that many partners might fear - meeting the family.

But Izuku was hardly worried. He was best friends with your brother Shouto, a level-headed student with good work ethics and a dry sense of humor. The rest of the family couldn’t be that bad.

A simple dinner, you had told him, dress casual and no gifts required. Still, Izuku felt obligated to bring the finest bottle of bourbon his paycheck could afford him (he’d asked Shouto what your father’s favorite was, just to be safe).

The Todoroki household was impressive; massive and imposing in the countryside, surrounded by tall stone walls and looking straight out of a victorian romance novel. Izuku knows what those look like, because he’s seen them on the covers of the romance novels you like to read. He’s always doing his best to pay attention to your likes and dislikes.

“Izuku!” came your excited little voice as the door opened after his loud knock, and the green-haired man couldn’t stop himself from breaking out in a smile.

You were almost bouncing in excitement behind your older brother Shouto as he held the door open, taking the offered bottle of bourbon from Izuku with a nod before leaving you alone together in the foyer.

“Hey, missed you-” Izuku grunted as you attacked him in a hug, and a laugh bubbled out of you both when the solid man had to take a step backwards from  the push of your body.

“Missed you too! I’m so excited for tonight, it’s so good that Dad and the rest of the family are accepting you.” A quick kiss to his cheek distracted Izuku.

You were fairly comfortable with physical touch, resting your head on his shoulder, never afraid to snuggle up to his side on movie nights, or hold his hand out in public (especially now that the two of you were dating). But Izuku had honestly expected more.... sensuality once the two of you started seeing each other as lovers more than just friends.

He had asked to kiss you one night, after you’d made him dinner and rubbed his shoulders and listened to him talk about the latest subject he was studying. Izuku had felt his heart warm, like cold wax cradled over a flame, and his love for you was bursting out of his chest. He wanted to kiss you and hold you close, tell you how much he loved you.

You had just smiled shyly and shook your head, saying you wanted to wait a bit. Which Izuku understood! This was all new, going from friends-to-dating, and he didn’t want to rush you or make you uncomfortable in any way. He was willing to wait.

So the kiss to his cheek surprised him, made him stutter and blush and hug you a bit tighter.

Then you were taking his hand, leading him through the maze of a house. He couldn’t help but notice the old-timey decorations mixed in with the more modern features, but done in an elegant, timeless fashion. A good blend of old mixed with new.

Stepping into the large dining room hand-in-hand with you, Izuku was met with the sight of the entire Todoroki family.

“Everybody-” You started, catching their attention until every set of eyes was on you and the tall man by your side. “This is Izuku!”

Shouto stepped forward, closest to the pair of you, and set his hand on Izuku’s shoulder with a smile. “Glad to have you joining the family.” 

Izuku smiled back, pulling his friend into a hug and giving him a hearty pat on the back.

“This is Fuyumi-” A tap to Izuku’s shoulder had him turning around, stepping away from Shouto to shake your sister’s hand. 

“Hi Izuku, I’ve heard such good things about you.” Her voice was soft and gentle, almost like your own. Izuku could see the family resemblance between the two of you. 

“And this is Natsuo, he’s studying for his masters just like you.” A white-haired man approached him, friendly and open, ready to shake Izuku’s hand but ultimately pulling him into a hug. 

“Sorry, I’m a hugger.” Natsuo laughed, and Izuku shrugged, completely unbothered.

“Here’s Touya.” You introduced a redhead next, a man sitting almost sullenly at the table. He didn’t rise to his feet, didn’t even take Izuku’s offered handshake. 

“This is the guy you’ve been babbling about? He looks bori-”

“Touya.”  The room, already hushed, grew even more silent, almost heavy with the weight of the voice from the man at the head of the table.

The gangly redhead shut his mouth, looking ready to roll his eyes. You pulled Izuku past him towards the imposing man who was looking at the man at your side, appraising him.

“And this is my dad. Dad, this is Izuku.”

“A pleasure to meet you sir.” Izuku shook the mans large hand, and the man nodded solemnly.

“Sit down, we’re ready to eat.”

-----

Dinner wasn’t a quiet affair. Comfortable conversation flowed easily between everyone; questions about Izuku’s degree, about his goals, his dreams, his job. He knew it was just everyone getting to know him, assurance that he was suitable for their daughter. Izuku wanted to be perfect for you, anything and everything you needed.

Enji (Izuku was not about to call your father dad) asked only a few questions, otherwise decidedly quiet at his spot at the table, chewing his food while watching Izuku respond to the rest of his family. 

It was mainly Fuyumi, Natsuo, and Shouto keeping the conversation flowing, Izuku easily keeping up with whatever they decided to talk about, asking engaging questions of his own about the family members he’d just met, laughing easily whenever you made a pun or Shouto’s dry humor jumped out.

Everything seemed to be going well. 

Fuyumi asked to be excused, saying she needed to go prepare, and Enji waved her off easily, telling you to go with her. You rose from your chair easily, but not before catching Izuku’s hand and giving it a squeeze, eyes shining as you leaned close to whisper “See you in a bit.”.

“You really love her?” Touya asked as soon as the two women left the room to go prepare dessert, leaving Izuku alone with the male Todoroki’s. Izuku assumed this would be when he gets the shake-down, the usual “Hurt her and we’ll kill you” talk.

“So much. Sometimes I feel like I love her so much that I don’t know what to do with myself.” Izuku confessed.

“She talks about you a lot. I think she feels the same way that you do.” Natsuo supplied from across the table, and Izuku felt his cheeks flush, his heart flutter. It was one thing to know you loved someone - to feel the warmth and peace it brought to your soul. It was another to know that they loved you back; it made him feel whole.

“I've seen how you treat her, I think the two of you are a good match.” Shouto said, and Izuku smiled at his friend. Shouto had been his buddy since high school, truthfully was the reason that Izuku and you had met. You’d come along with Shouto one day when he’d come to hang out with Izuku, and the two of you had become fast friends.

Natsuo was rising from the table, walking back to the little shelf along one wall where various drinks sat (and Izuku’s bourbon gift). Izuku watched the man begin to pour out a red liquid, before his attention was caught by Shouto leaving the table as well, taking his plate and exiting the room.

Then Natsuo was placing a glass of the red liquid down in front of Izuku. “Don’t worry, this is nothing more than homemade punch.” He said as Izuku eyed it.

“It’s tradition.”  Touya growled and Izuku found himself taken aback at the heat in the other man’s voice. Was the redhead angry at him for some reason? 

“Touya, calm down.” The eldest Todoroki said, and Izuku almost wanted to cower himself at the sheer dominance exuding from the powerful man. “Izuku is becoming family. You will be happy for your sister, not jealous.”

Touya huffed, grumbling under his breath before shoving his seat away from the table. “Just don’t fuckin’ hurt her, got it? She’s my baby sister.” 

“I would never-” But Touya is already storming out of the room, uncaring of Izuku’s assurances.

Natsuo sighs. “Don’t mind him, he just.... doesn’t like change.”

“What is this again?” Picking up the red drink, Izuku swirled it around the glass, trying to change the subject and hopefully smooth over the tension. Most of the tension had dissipated when Touya left, but it never hurt to be proactive. 

“It’s a tea we brew and sweeten ourselves. We grow the plants in the backyard, you’ll see them soon.” Natsuo explained.

“It’s tradition?” Izuku parroted Touya’s earlier words, before taking a quick sip. It was delicious tea.

“Yes, we like to welcome those who are approved to join the family.” Natsuo laughed a little. “Fuyumi’s husband thought we were trying to drug him. It’s really just tea.”

Izuku snorted. It tasted like tea, why would someone think the Todoroki’s were trying to drug them? Sure, the family might be a little odd, but they weren’t malicious... right?

Before he knew it, his cup was empty and Natsuo had slipped out of the room, leaving Izuku alone with the head of the household, Enji.

Where were you? And why had everyone else left the room?

“I’m very particular about who I allow in my house, boy.” Enji started, and Izuku suddenly felt.... uneasy.

“Not everyone thinks the same way as the Todoroki’s. But you seem to be a bright young man. Educated. You aren’t going to be any trouble, are you?”

The last question wasn’t posed as such. It was a statement. 

Still, Izuku shook his head. “No sir, I have no intentions of causing trouble.” Why did this casual dinner feel so serious? there was so much emphasis on being accepted into the family, on being welcomed. Izuku recognized how big of a deal that was but still... it’s not like you were about to marry him. He was planning on that a few years down the road.

“Come with me.” Enji instructed, wiping his mouth with his napkin before his impressive bulk hefted itself out of his chair. Izuku felt tiny next to the patriarch, following the man through the dark, empty house.

He wanted to ask where Enji was taking him. Where you had disappeared to, where the rest of the family had gone. But that would be rude, so Izuku kept his mouth shut.

Outside it was dark, moon shining dimly through the sky, the residual warmth of the summer day still held in the air. Izuku followed Enji through the back door, down along a path, into the plentiful, green backyard.

To a grove of trees, torches flickering from within the grove, small bushes and beautiful flowering plants dotted among the trees. A garden, Izuku realized. Those must be the plants and bushes that produce the tea Natsuo had given him.

Then there you were, in a little clearing among the trees.

Sitting on a dark blanket, knees drawn to your chest and ankles crossed in front of you as you hid your body.

Izuku started - you were naked.

Touya was kneeling beside you, a hand on your shoulder as he talked to you gently, barely sparing Izuku and his father a glance as they strode into the torch-lit clearing, Touya’s attention truly focused on you.

Shouto and Natsuo stood in the light, watching you, watching Izuku.

“What is this?” Izuku sputtered, and upon hearing his voice you looked away from Touya, a smile lighting up your face as you saw your Izuku.

“This is tradition boy.” Enji laid a heavy hand on Izuku’s shoulder. “Now strip down, my little girl’s been waiting.”

Izuku’s head swirled.

Touya stood up, shooting the green-haired man a lazy glare before moving to stand by his brothers, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Izuku...” Your sweet little voice called for him, and green eyes snapped to your form on the ground, watched as, with a nod from Enji, you slowly unfurled your body to expose yourself to your lover.

A stab of arousal hit Izuku in his gut, watching your soft-looking skin be revealed. 

Pert breasts, a squishy tummy, glistening folds ready and twitching between your legs. 

You were drenched.

There was so much shiny slick, all over your thighs and dripped onto the blanket, Izuku couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t think straight. It was impossible for you to be that wet on your own, you must have used lube or something to prepa-

It hit him; You and Fuyumi hadn’t gone to prepare dessert.

“You just gonna stand there all night like an idiot? Take your clothes off and fuck her you dwee-”

“Touya.” Enji growled, silencing his son immediately. Then the man turned to  Izuku, easily pushing him forwards towards you. “You’ve been accepted into the family; that’s an invitation you don’t want to refuse.”

With a sigh, you easily laid down onto your back, legs still spread for Izuku to look at you, hands coming up to rest shyly over your breasts.

“Don’t do that, let him see.” Shouto murmured, and immediately your hands dropped in obedience. Shouto hummed in approval, before bi-colored eyes swept up to look at Izuku, urging his friend forward with a tilt of his head down to your form.

With trembling hands, Izuku fumbled with his pants, unzipping them with a bit of difficulty, undoing his belt, working on the buttons of his nice shirt the he had worn to make a good impression when he met your family for the first time.

It took him a moment to undress, a red blush creeping up over his cheeks and down to his chest as he bared his body to the Todoroki’s.

He didn’t think he was small, but he wasn’t big either; average. Izuku was confident in his size, didn’t really know or are how he stacked up against other guys, and the girls he’d been with before hadn’t complained.

Still, he felt embarrassed to be naked in front of other people, to be on display. But there wasn’t another option, was there? (Izuku didn’t know if that was such a bad thing)

Two short strides before dropping to his knees in front of you on the blanket, his throat dry and his palms sweaty. 

“Are you-” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Are you okay with this?” 

Your head nodded yes, a pleased, yet shy grin on your face. “Of course. I want you.”

The softness of your voice, of your body, Izuku felt dizzy as he shuffled forward, close enough to touch. Still hesitant, worried about the male Todoroki members watching from the sidelines, brain racing to work through the strangeness of the situation, the utter oddity of this... ritual that was currently taking place.

But then you were sitting up, hands circling around his neck, pressing your lips to his with crushing finality.

He was a part of the family now.

It felt good to kiss you, soft lips pressed together, little huffs of breath from your nose as you kept going. Izuku took the freedom of circling his hands around your waist, almost gasping at the plushness of your flesh, melting against you with a groan as your lips kept pressing to his.

“I’m all ready, just-just put it in.” Your breathless little confession tumbled out as soon as you pulled away from your first real kiss with Izuku, a blush high on your cheeks.

But it was Izuku’s turn to blush, sitting between your legs like a fumbling virgin. “I’m not hard yet, but I can, uhm, finger you. Or we can kiss for a little bit mo-”

“You aren’t even hard? Touya’s sneering voice cut through Izuku’s babbling. “Look at my sister. She’s fucking soaking the ground. That’s not hot to you?”

Izuku stuttered, eyes flickering down to where your legs were opened, pretty little cunt twitching. It’s like you were begging to be touched, and Izuku was a sucker for begging.

“No, that’s so hot, oh my god.” He breathed, fingers instinctively reaching to swipe through your wetness, relishing the way you gasped and shuddered as his hand made contact with your body.

“She’s so soft too, got tits like little pillows. You should lick ‘em, she likes that.” Touya continues, and Izuku wants to point out that the reason he’s not completely hard yet isn’t because he’s not insanely turned on by the beautiful creature in front of him, but because he’s feeling weirded out by all her brothers and her dad watching intently from the sidelines.

Yet he does what Touya suggests, leaning forward to put his mouth on your chest, tongue darting out to drag against your skin. 

The eldest Todoroki was right about you being soft.

Izuku can’t stop his other hand from rubbing at your cunt more firmly, feeling your little hips twitch towards him, pressing your chest more firmly into his mouth.

“She’s so pretty.” Natsuo comments, but Izuku is hardly listening when he’s flicking at your clit, nursing at your tits. “She’s gonna feel real good around you Izuku, like a new fleshlight.”

“You better breed her good, boy.” Enji booms, and suddenly you’re scrabbling at Izuku’s arms, pulling his hair, whining “Please, Izuku please.”.

“Okay, shit, let me-”

“He must be really worked up, Izuku hardly ever curses.” Shouto announces, and fuck, he’s right -  but how could he not be worked up?

Izuku is hard, blood rushing so quickly to his cock that he feels lightheaded, taking himself in hand and giving his length a few dry pumps. He’s envisioning how sopping wet you’ll feel against him, staring, drooling over your cunt.

And then he’s lining himself up, kissing you hard, and pushing inside.

“Big, ‘s too big!” You panic, tears popping to your eyes but Izuku is quick to wipe them away, cooing at you and stilling his hips.

“Oh, don’t cry! Shh, I’ll go slow, ‘m sorry, I thought you were ready-”

“Natsu-” You cried, hand scrabbling into the ground above your head, reaching, searching for your brother.

“Hey, hey, I’m here.” The man was immediately on his knees by your face, clasping your hand fervently, leaning down to put a sweet kiss on your nose. “Breathe honey, in and out. It’s okay.”

“Noo I-I.... ‘M scared, he’s-he’s-ah!” A stuttered cry broke from your chest as Izuku shifted slightly, inadvertently pushing deeper.

“No, it's gonna be okay. It's just like when we do it, yeah? He's gonna be nice.” And Natsuo is looking at Izuku, fixing him with such a pointed gaze and Izuku gets the message. He’s going to be nice.

It’s not like he wasn’t planning on it - the green haired man loves you.

But then the breath is sucked out of his chest as he comprehends what Natsuo had just comforted you with, that-that.

That you’ve fucked your brother.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” Izuku chants, unable to stop his hips from inching back and forth, humnping into you in infinitesimal movements as arousal punches through his gut. “Sorry, I can’t stop-’h my god that’s-”

He can hear Touya cackle. “Damn, something really got him going.”

You were squeezing your eyes shut, clenching Natsuo’s hand so tight that the skin was whitening. Your brother didn’t seem to mind, more occupied with stroking your hair, eyes fixated on the soft jiggle of your breasts as Izuku humped you like a senseless virgin.

His breathing turned into wheezing, hitching when a presence was felt at his back.

“You can do better than that.” Enji’s hands were pressing against Izuku’s naked rear, making the green haired man flinch forward and away from the touch. But Enji merely pushed, propelling Izuku’s thrusts so that he would really fuck the warm, willing body beneath him.

“Izuk-Izu-Izuku-” You moaned, rocking your body to further spear yourself onto his cock, apparently finding the fast glide pleasurable as opposed to your hesitance earlier.

He leaned down to kiss you, both of you moaning into the kiss, hands wandering as you pushed to meet each other, Izuku’s stomach clenching tighter and tighter as he neared his release.

“She’s never had someone fuck her raw before...” Shouto mused, eyes glued to the scene in front of him, watching his best friend fuck his sister with the help of his family. “I wonder if it feels different.”

But his words were lost in the quick slap of skin meeting skin, Izuku’s grunts, your sweet little noises as you writhed and clutched at Natsuo’s hand, your other hand holding onto Izuku.

And then Izuku was gone, balls clenching and cock twitching inside you, pulsing as he shot his seed.

Your eyes fluttered shut, pulling your hand away from Natsuo to place it against your tummy, pressing right over where Izuku was still grinding against you. “Feels... feels so warm.”

Izuku was panting, sweat sticking his curls to his forehead, desire slowly swirling out of his body as he came. 

What the fuck had he just done?

Enji clapped him once on the back, before rising to his feet. “Welcome to the family, son.”

[needleandhammer]

Fruition

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Female!Reader

Word Count: 6216

Summary: You're the Governor's daughter and you've caught the eye of Boston's most eligible bachelor.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content. Unprotected sex. P in v. Reader's first time having sex. Cunnilingus. Dub con. Possessive!Ransom. Sort of Dark!Ransom. Historically inaccurate. Slight breeding kink. 18+ only!

A/N: Period au. I kept the time period and nobility ranking real vague because I'm not about to research and actually world-build a mashed 19th century American colonies and Victorian period au :D It's not quite as dark!Ransom as I had intended, mostly soft. Inspired by Bridgerton, yes. And the amazing debauchery of @stargazingfangirl18 for their Soft Dark 5k challenge. Congrats and thank you for such amazing stories!

Yet another season of balls, picnics, and courtship.

“Have you heard the news? The young Drysdale is to be named heir to the Thrombey estates.”

“That makes him heir to both Thrombey and Drysdale legacies.”

“Do you think he’s in search of a wife?”

“It’s Drysdale we’re talking about. The only thing he’s in search of is someone to warm his bed for one night.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. All that inheritance must require a wife to keep in order.”

“I wouldn’t mind warming his bed even for one night.”

“Shh! That’s scandalous!”

You heard your name and looked up to see your friend Vincenza approach. “Have you heard? Drysdale is to be—“

“Must I endure an entire evening of talk about that boorish man?”

She giggled at your complaint. “But it’s the talk of the city. Lord Thrombey has replaced his own son with his grandson as heir. And…” She glanced around, leaning close to you to whisper. “I heard that the transfer of inheritance was all due to Drysdale’s uncle’s inability to produce a child.”

Your brow folded, unsure whether such a decision was fair. “Well it’s not our business, Vinnie.”

“But that’s the thing!” Her whisper grew breathless with excitement. “It’s all of our business. Well, those of us not determined to narrow our marriage choices in the name of love.” She shook her head at you with good nature. “If Drysdale is to produce an heir, he needs a wife! It’s certain that all the available ladies of Boston will be trying to earn his favor.”

You sighed as Vinnie hooked her arm around your elbow, both of you weaving slowly through the ballroom.

It wasn’t like you weren’t used to this, hearing gossip about the infamous Drysdale son, the eldest grandson to the retired Lord Thrombey. How such a noble scholar could be related to the notorious heartbreaker sometimes stretched your comprehension. And even more ridiculous, autumn found you as Drysdale’s target for humiliation. You knew such a flirt had no intentions of settling down, yet, he had endeavored to make sure he danced with you at every ball thus far this season, and even called on you at your city townhome. You were quick to inform him that you were uninterested, yet he seemed unbothered. In fact, upon your firm rejection, Drysdale seemed to make it his goal to visit your brother as often as possible - as the two were college pals - ensuring you encountered him several times a week. Drysdale was not outright courting you, but he made his attentions evident to you. Most frustrating of all, he seemed to have a knack for cornering you under the guise of innocently keeping his friend’s sister company. It irked you that your family could not see what you saw.

You caught sight of your brother waving at you, so you led Vinnie in his direction.

Perhaps Vinnie was correct and you were closing doors that were better left open in the opulent realm of nobility courtship. Your chances of marrying for love were slim, but that didn’t mean you could not at least try to maneuver your way closer to those slim chances. Even in Boston’s ruthless high society of meddling mothers, envious debutantes, and arrogant “gentlemen.” But you were the Governor’s first-born daughter – beauty praised by all, poised and sharp, and most accomplished at a number of activities thanks to the Governor and your mother encouraging a diverse array of talents since you were young. Theirs was a happy and long marriage resulting in five children, and supported by a successful political career that you were proud to celebrate. You had no doubt that no matter the pressures of society, your parents would support you if you opposed an incompatible proposal in your search for the right person.

As long as you navigated the nobility’s courtship rituals with the wits you inherited from your own mother, there should be no reason you should lose the romantic interests of countless eligible bachelors, or heaven forbid, fall upon a scandal that may prevent a proposal of love.

Well, there was one reason you might end the season in scandal, by way of delivering a swift knee to the vulnerable private area of one particularly irritating gentleman in full public view of hundreds of good folk who have gathered to enjoy the Senator’s autumn ball. Alas, you were not going to bring that kind of shame to your parents.

The particular reason, the gentleman who irritated you so, was currently greeting your elder brother quietly, whilst his penetrating gaze remained on you. Determined not to be ruffled by his attention, you kept your shoulders back and chin high, sweeping your eyes through the crowd and dancers.

Your attention returned to your group of family and friends when your hand was captured. By him. Hugh Ransom Drysdale Thrombey.

“My, don’t you look breath-taking. It is my pleasure to get to see you tonight, Miss Y/L/N.” Drysdale’s eyes flowed down your form, and much to your chagrin, his smirk widened. No doubt the warm flush on your bare collar would be apparent to him.

You couldn’t help yourself, with those glowing azure eyes of his so clearly admiring your figure. The man was completely inappropriate.

“Yes, it surely is.” You offered a pursed barely-there smile and tugged your hand. He tightened his grip upon your fingers, raising them to meet his lips. You cursed yourself for choosing the delicate lace gloves this evening, as you felt his warm breath feather through the lace onto your skin. He deliberately kept his lips upon your fingers for longer than necessary, curved in that signature smirk.

“Mr. Drysdale, if I may have my hand back. I must obtain a beverage for my sister.”

Mischief twinkled back at you from his eyes. “Allow me to accompany you. I’m sure your brother and mother would both enjoy a drink,” he was quick to close down the objection posed on your lips.

Your brother thanked Drysdale with a clap on his shoulder and motioned for you to go on. You could only give Vinnie a frown as she preened at you with excitement. You proceeded without protest, knowing your brother’s attention was occupied, searching for a Miss Amarea Dane, whom you were certain you would welcome as sister-in-law very soon.

You smiled quietly to yourself, once again dreaming of following in your brother’s footsteps and finding a match so certain and true, so compelled by love and affection, rather than simply honor and title. To think, it had been Drysdale who had introduced the couple.

Suddenly, a man backed up straight into your path. You couldn’t avoid stumbling aside and directly into the arms of Drysdale.

“Watch yourself, Chen. Maybe go easy on the wine,” Drysdale called to the man who raised an empty glass at him with a laugh.

You attempted to straighten up, aware you were surrounded by several people and had just fallen into the embrace of Drysdale, who was notorious for seducing the city’s ladies.

“Let go,” you insisted quietly, dropping your gaze to your wrist which he held on to.

Drysdale gave you stern glance and led you close behind him, keeping his grasp on you hidden as he pulled you through the room.

When the two of you made it beyond the side entrance, you tried retrieving your hand.

“Mr. Drysdale, let go.” You had not wanted to draw attention with so many guests around you. You would die of embarrassment to allow anyone to see Drysdale’s hand on yours beyond the required polite greeting.

“Come, my lady. You cannot blame me for wishing to acquire your attention all to myself.”

“You are being most inappropriate.” You huffed as he pulled into the gardens. “Let go of me this instant.”

“So eager to return to your suitors? I’m sure I saw at least five gentleman who have called on you this month.”

“How can you know of the gentlemen who have called on me?” You dug your heels into the gravel, drawing up short when Drysdale stopped and rounded on you.

“Well, Barber makes no secret of his admiration for you. Or that idiot colonel’s son? And that Wilson fellow makes such noise at the gentlemen’s club about his intent to propose.”

You smiled at his apparent crossness. “Are you tracking my proposals? Are you requesting a fee for updating me about the intentions of my suitors?”

Drysdale stepped closer, his sharp jawline clenched. “So you’re pleased then?”

“Why shouldn’t I be?” You bit back a gasp when he tugged you forward, his hands on your waist which pressed against his front. “If you don’t let go—“

“What will you do?” His smirk returned and your fists pushed against the solid muscle of his arms. “What would you do?” He asked again, dipping his face close to yours. “If someone saw the Governor’s honorable eldest daughter, the pearl of the city, alone in the dark with a man?”

“How dare you? You better let go or my brother –“

“Would only be too happy to welcome me into the family.”

You did not miss his meaning. If you were discovered in this position by anyone, your brother would demand that your honor be redeemed by marriage to Drysdale. As handsome as the man was, you had no wish to pair the rest of your life with a man who flirted with dozens of women each season and broke just as many hearts.

“Well I am certain, sir, he would never force me to marry someone so crude as yourself. He is familiar with your outrageous behavior, so he knows you would make an ill match and I would never consent to it.” You tried leaning back from Drysdale, feeling a growl work from his chest. You couldn’t show him fear, no. You had enough of this man making your life miserable just because he was bored.

He didn’t relent, his palms flexing around your waist tighter. “You think that just because your father protects you, you are beyond the pressures, the claws of people of our standing?” He chuckled darkly. “I assure you, if it was between your happiness and ensuring your family avoids falling from grace, your parents would not hesitate to throw you to the wolves, to sacrifice your childish dreams in order to uphold their status. That’s what you’re searching for, isn’t it? Behind that pretty face are the same silly fancies as all the other girls. Dreams of love.”

“I don’t expect you to understand, so mock me all you want.” You continued struggling, determined to not back down from his burning gaze, but drawing short of breath all the same to have him so close. “Everyone knows you’re too busy fooling around and playing with women who, yes, want to find love. I only pity them for believing you have the ability to give that to them.”

He whispered your name low in warning, his voice sending a flutter down your stomach. You arranged a fierce scowl at him.

“It’s the truth. All you care about are your family’s riches and living like you have no responsibility to your community. Well, go on. Find some poor woman and give your family an heir so you can secure your fortune and continue your wild ways in comfort. But rest assured, I’d rather be thrown to wolves than end up paired with a man like you.”

Your squeak of shock was cut short when Drysdale crashed his mouth on yours. He molded your lips, swallowing your gasp as he sucked your lower lip. You felt suffocated with an intense heat blossoming from your stomach and growing further as you sensed the wet lick of his tongue.

Drysdale knew every time he pushed your buttons he got to enjoy your soft features lighting up just the way he liked; and at the same time he suffered your blatant disdain. For months he had told himself he was only after some entertainment in the form of your admittedly beautiful displeasure directed at him to liven up the droll season. Yet, here he was, unable to restrain himself from touching you, your warm smile haunting his thoughts, the silk of your skin an insufferable craving that occupied him at every hour.

You tried to twist out of his arms, but he held you pressed against him, a soft whimper from you further igniting his desire to wrap you up and make sure no other man witnessed you like this. Breathless. Vulnerable. So, so sweet, just as he imagined you would be.

You were unsure how to respond, failing to escape from his hold. So you fought back with your mouth, lips pushing against his, much to Drysdale’s delight. He barely allowed you to draw breath as he tilted his head, hand caressing the back of your neck to keep you close, quickly sneaking his tongue into the hot cavern of your mouth. He felt you tremble at his invasion, your hands gripping his jacket. He opened his eyes, appreciating the moon’s gleam on your cheek, your lashes fluttering. Despite your drawn brow, he could tell you were no longer opposed to his ministrations. He groaned when your tongue whirled against his.

It was the familiar quiver in your core that struck you and had you thrashing until you had pushed Drysdale away. You could not allow this man to awaken desires within you. You covered your mouth, panting, feeling tears sting your eyes.

You heard your name from him.

“Don’t!” You kept your face hidden with a hand, as though you could hide what had just happened. “Don’t every come near me again, Drysdale.”

“You can’t mean that.”

You stepped back before he could reach you. “I’m sorry. I am to call you Thrombey now, correct? You’ve inherited a title and doubled your worth. Well, don’t for one second think that makes me care for you.”

You rushed out of the garden, praying he wouldn’t catch up. Drysdale breathed deep. Your words stung him.

He shook himself, making a vow. Darling, you’re not getting away from me.

------------------

No, no, this could not be happening. It was still early in the day and your life was ruined. Or, it would be very soon.

“If you don’t accept my proposal, I will ensure that the whole city hears about your little moonlight tryst with Drysdale. We all know he’s not the type to step up for a woman’s honor. So you’ll be left with a scandal and no further suitors, you can be sure of it.”

That was the threat from Mr. Mildred, the colonel’s son who creeped on the edges of parties and was known to mistreat the help of his household.

You couldn’t stand the thought of marrying Mildred. Yet, what were your options? Your parents would heed your wishes, but the shame of a scandal would be hard for your family to recover from. You father’s reelection might even be impacted. Boston may be a modern city but progress was slow when it came to the rules of courtship amongst upper social circles. And your marriage prospects, well, very few bachelors would come calling once they heard you described as a loose woman.

It had been too much to hope that no one witnessed what happened in the garden.

You stood, restless and angry with yourself. How could you have melted into Drysdale’s touch? That was just as agonizing to you as Mildred’s words. Ever since you first met Drysdale, heard of his leisurely bachelor ways and his aversion to marriage and family, you had vowed to never fraternize with anyone of his nature. He was everything you did not want for a stable, loving family and spouse.

So many months, you had been forced to hear him mock you with pleasantries, intrude on your homely comforts, charm your mother and sisters, monopolize your brother’s time. And yet. His broad form hovering close to you as you practiced pianoforte. His many glances with those sky blue eyes during park strolls. The low purr of his voice that followed you into your dreams. Drysdale had managed to worm his way into your subconscious. At one point, you had thought he was tolerable, kind, and perhaps capable of sincerity; but that night in the garden had shown you his true colors.

Two days later, you fared no better. Your mother summoned you into the parlor, sharing that she had encountered Mr. Mildred at a tea party and he mentioned a dreadful whisper he believed to be about you and a gentleman together without chaperones in the Senator’s garden.

Had Mildred run out of patience already? Your mother’s tight frown was your answer. You apologized profusely, tears escaping as you tried to hold yourself together in the presence of someone you had sworn never to disappoint.

Apparently, Mildred informed your mother that such a whisper had not spread far, but he could not be certain of preventing its spread.

You were interrupted by the house maid, bringing a letter to your mother informing of a dinner visit.

The rest of your day, your head ached with the decision you had to make. Drysdale would not be affected by the gossip but you would not remain unscathed for long. Even with the respect your father received as Governor, your prospects grew slimmer than ever. Yet you could not accept a sacred vow of lifelong marriage to the conniving Mildred.

And Drysdale, well, you told yourself you would not entertain the idea. You had rejected his advances once already. You told yourself he had only courted you to add to his conquests and he only continued to antagonize you to alleviate his boredom.

It wasn’t until you entered the dining room that you realized your mother’s dinner guests were the Drysdales, including Lord Thrombey. You lowered yourself into a seat next to your sister, forcing a smile at Lady Drysdale before her strident tones returned to a conversation with your mother. Movement to your other side prompted you, but your smile fell flat to see Ransom Drysdale beside you. He only nodded to you, though you caught his eyes glinting with purpose before he turned to your brother.

It was halfway through dinner that Drysdale made the announcement. He had requested your father’s permission and was proposing to you this very night.

You scarcely noted your two families’ reactions, excusing yourself from the table and winding up in the dimly lit back yard of your home.

“Why?” you asked as soon as you heard footsteps behind you. Turning to Drysdale, you demanded, “Why are you doing this?”

He watched you, eyes dark and framed by thick lashes. His jaw tensed and then he stepped up to you, looking down at you.

“As you said. I have to earn my inheritance. I need an heir for my grandfather. For that to happen, I need a wife.”

You shook your head, his words striking at your heart.

“You’ll do just fine, I suppose,” he finished.

“No!” You shoved at his chest, barely swaying him. “You don’t get to do this. This is my life.”

“I heard what Mildred was going to do,” he said, swallowing hard. “If I didn’t propose, you’d have to marry him. Or –“

“I would deal with the gossip however I see fit! How could you come to my home and propose in front of our entire families. How could you—“

He wrapped his hands around your biceps, dragging you close. “You can’t say no.”

Helpless, you could only silently deny his ruthless words with an anguished shake of your head.

“You can’t say no to me. No matter what you tell yourself about how merciful your lovely society friends will be. We both know if you don’t accept my proposal…” He glanced away with a chuckle before eying you, his grin cocky, sneering. “And don’t even bother thinking you might escape from this by actually marrying Mildred. He’ll back off as soon as he hears the new Lord Thrombey has proposed. Either way, looks like you’re not going to the wolves.”

One hand grasped your neck and jaw, drawing your lips to his. He could sigh with relief. He had not been able to rest ever since tasting you.

“Drysdale –“

“Ransom,” he whispered, rubbing his lips to yours before reclaiming them in a deeper kiss that consumed all of your senses. You couldn’t gather your wits to question how he managed to force all thoughts from your mind. Surely your anger was the source of the sparks lit in your breast as you felt his tongue sweep into your mouth roughly. You sagged against him. Ransom’s lips released you, trailing along your skin.

“Call me Ransom.” His order came firm as he dropped kisses down the corner of your mouth to your ear. It pained him to be the cause of your tears, but he would be damned if he let that weasel Mildred sully your name, or get to twist his fingers in your dark tresses, learn your curves, taste your lips. No, Ransom would be your villain.

“R-Ransom,” you gasped out, so aware of his body heat rolling against you, his thick arms encircling you.

“Accept my proposal.” He knew he had crushed his very slight chances of being on the receiving end of your kind heart, forcing your hand like this.

He pressed his forehead to yours, warm hands framing either side of your face. His thumbs stroked away your tears, and you were struck by the earnest plea in his eyes.

"Alright."

He took a deep breath and stepped back from you, his face a cool mask. "Let us inform our families."

This may be another game to him, an easy means to an end. For you, it wasn’t a choice.

--‐-------------------------------------------------------------------------

You made it through your short engagement and overly grand wedding by devoting your entire energy to convincing your family that you were the eager, blushing bride. You offered minimal answers as your dear sister asked about how Drysdale – no, how Ransom had claimed your heart. You dutifully picked out wedding bouquets with your mother and responded to the well wishes of your father’s friends.

All the while, your busy schedule served as an excuse to avoid your groom-to-be. With middling success. Now that he had claimed your hand, and more, proved your dreams were all for naught, he couldn’t resist reminding you to your face how naïve you had been. Worse, he took advantage of his status as your fiancé.

He took the opportunity at every lunch to sit close to you and toss that triumphant smirk your way. He invited you to the park with your family, leading you ahead and lacing his fingers through yours as he put on a show of holding you steady upon the walkways. He played the love-struck bachelor, dragging you between the far shelves of your father’s library and exploring your mouth with a frenzy that left you dizzy. Your resistance was no match for his determination to overpower you, to flaunt his victory. Yet, you could almost see the arrogant curl of his mouth morphing with each kiss as his eyes softened. And each time, you grew more hopeless - conflicted - as his touch grew familiar, satisfying a part of you which you could not control. You were truly out of your depth when it came to Ransom.

It mattered not. You could not take back your word. The Governor’s daughter that you were so proud to be could not collapse in your own despair. As far as anyone was concerned, you and Ransom had both discovered an unlikely, passionate love for one another and wished very badly to wed.

You should have been exhausted after the early day of wedding celebration you had endured with Ransom, the incomparably handsome and gallant groom. And after many hours riding out to Halifax, the Thrombey country home. Your new home.

But a new challenge was upon you this late night - your wedding night. At least, that had been your sole problem up until Ransom had deposited you in your marital chamber and excused himself. You had absentmindedly, nervously, glided around the room to admire the woodwork. Only to notice a parchment corner peeking from the drawer of an antique desk. Which led you to open the drawer and pluck at the papers with your name upon them.

The pearl of the city. An apt title, yet it fails to define your beauty, Y/N…

…Is it a gift or a curse that I should be visited with visions of your sweet face as I sleep…

Barry speaks highly of you, his sister, and your affinity for family, your desire for a true love. A shame that such an exquisite soul should be beyond my grasp. No, I have earned this torture. I could never deserve you, nor offer you what you deserve…

So many lines speaking of admiration for your character, yearning to learn what would be worthy of your affections, admissions that you were too sweet, too good to be burdened with him. Words hinting of curiosity, of desire for a future with you, a family unlike the one he grew up with.

…I can only laugh at myself for daring to dream God might have mercy on me and lead me into your arms, and lead us to the dreams you and I share…

The sound of the door swinging open had you looking up to meet Ransom’s gaze. He slowed in his entrance, seeing the pile you clasped in hand.

“Those are mine,” he said, voice tight. His hands curled with your big eyes shining upon him full of question.

“My name is on them. They’re mine,” you countered.

“Forget them,” he commanded. “They are only…”

“Fancies? Silly dreams of…love?” you asked. “You’re a talented writer.” You smiled seeing his flushed cheeks, his averted, shy grimace.

“I used to sit with my grandfather for long hours. Reading. Discussing stories.”

“Did your grandfather also help you practice writing love letters?”

He smiled without mirth. “No. I figured I wanted to make a fool of myself so I documented foolish musings.”

You closed the distance between you. Your face was uplifted, beseeching Ransom to meet your eyes. He could not ignore your presence, attention intense on him and almost more than he could bear.

“Is there truth in these words?” you asked quietly, careful not to spook this man, this loud, cocky man who had presented you with such a convincing disdain for anything sincere.

“It does not matter.”

“It matters. Because you chose me.” You pressed your fingertips to his lip, stopping his protest. Ransom closed his eyes for moment, barely believing you were touching him of your own will. He breathed in your perfume, disoriented by your proximity, your discovery. “Why did you never…?”

“Because I’ve always known such things were childish. My own parents proved to me a long time ago love has little value in a family.”

You shook your head in protest of such cynicism. But the bitter turn of his mouth reminded you of various instances in his family's presence - his parent's demand for recognition and power, his uncle scoffing at expressions of kindness.

“Because I felt foolish for even wanting something different. You were right. Anyone would be lucky to avoid me and my family. We’re a sham. There’s nothing beneath the surface for my parents and they’ve taught me well.”

“There’s more,” you insisted.

“Well then I’m a coward because I can’t bring myself to go in search for more. You were right. I am content with my family’s fortune. I would have been fine growing old alone, but I had to trap you with me. Now, you won’t achieve your marriage of love, your desire for a warm family.”

You cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. “I was the coward.” You drew him down, closing your eyes and pressing your foreheads together. “I saw more in you, but I was afraid. Afraid of risking my heart, afraid I might achieve the very thing that I have been yearning for.”

He whispered your name. You hushed him.

“Tell me. Do you truly love me?”

His breath feathered against your lips. “I love you.” There was such a raw vulnerability in his confession.

“Then that is all that matters. You and I will build the family we dreamed of. I promise.”

Like your vow had snipped him loose of his control, he yanked you in and kissed you hard.

“Be mine,” he murmured between sucks of your lips, drinking you in. “Give me all of you, and I swear, love, I’ll be your family. I’ll give you anything.”

You believed him. Cupped his head in yearning. “Yes. Yes, Ransom.”

His hands tugged impatiently at your gown, dragging the outer layers down. Long fingers pulled at your skirts. You worked at undoing his vest and shirt. Your hands trembled to feel his bare skin, the tickle of chest hair and such warmth emanating against you as he drew you close. You gasped to feel his hands squeezing your curves through your thin shift, seeking with greed for more. He walked you both to the bed and placed you in the middle, laid out for him as he had dreamt for months.

His touch dipped under your shift, setting your heart racing. As his mouth danced lower, he growled, tearing the top of your shift to expose your bare tits and mouth hungrily at them. You couldn’t stop wriggling, clutching around his neck and shoulders, arching up to his tongue that flicked a nipple before sucking.

“I’ve wanted you so long. Want to taste you.”

Before you knew it, you felt him panting at the delicate flesh between your legs, no article of clothing remotely hiding your body from him. He stopped you from closing your thighs, fingertips bruising as he held you open and licked broad stripes at your sex. You had never imagined such sensations, such a heat as Ransom so thoroughly pulled you apart with his mouth.

He watched through his lashes as you writhed, testing what you enjoyed most. His tongue teased at your entrance and then breached you to lash your inner walls. Your sharp cry had him groaning as his hard cock begged for friction. Your gasps bordered on sobs and he needed to see you fall off that edge.

His lips closed around your increasingly wet petals, shaking his head back and forth and sucking hard. When his teeth scraped your clit, your mouth froze open, your back arched off the bed and locked in feverish pleasure. Your rapture pulsed through you as he pressed his tongue flat to your throbbing bud.

“Darling, look at you.” How glorious you looked, soft and panting. Ransom climbed forward to kiss you, sharing the earthy tang of your pleasure. You hummed into his mouth, still drifting in a hazy cloud.

“Look at me, love,” he whispered. You opened your eyes. He watched you, lust and joy burning in his gaze. “You’re mine.”

You nuzzled his nose, whispered, “I’m yours.” Your breath left you as his cock, thick and insistent, pressed into you, pushing in and in until you felt nothing but full.

His lips never stopped kissing your face, your jaw, your mouth. As if he could tell the very instant the sting receded for you, Ransom moved, thrusting shallow. You found yourself wrapped around him, clinging as you had never been so desperate for another person before.

His moans and grunts joined you as he sped up. Everything he was doing, his hips clapping your thighs, his weight caging you, rekindled the thrill in you, the pleasure mounting more when he managed to slide his hand between you and swipe at your clit. You keened, unable to beg him to finish you off, but you knew he would do it. Knew he wouldn’t stop. His mouth sucked at your neck and he angled his thrust just so. You were lost to the world, grinding up against Ransom, chasing the pleasure that crackled from your core. Ransom nearly crushed you to the mattress as his rhythm rose to a frantic end and he released his seed through his swelling cock to fill you.

Your name rasped from him as he ground his hips into you with the instinctual need to ram his seed into your womb.

Long hours later, after Ransom’s need to claim you again resulted in multiple releases for you both, when you had caught your breath, you let him wind his naked form around yours.

You drifted off to his sleepy murmurs of, “I’m yours.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A month later and Ransom maintained firm control of your attentions, both mental and physical. He seemed intent on desecrating every room of the vast country home. One afternoon, the two of you had toured the family’s art collection. He had lured you into an alcove to view a Verocchio sculpture. You ended up with his face buried between your legs under the sculpture’s shadow, biting your fist to quiet your moans as Ransom’s tongue thrust into you. Right before you came, he slipped out from your skirts, bunching them at your waist and pushing you up against the wall. Your faced pressed into his neck with relief to feel his cock stretch you. Opened you up with rough jolts as your legs drew tight around him. His hips snapped urgently, quickly blazing flames within you until your explosive climax overwhelmed you. He fucked you until he came, biting your shoulder as he rutted hard to push his release deep into you, until you were overfilled and his spend seeped out and trailed between the two of you to mix with your own juices.

Tonight, his desire for you was unrestrained. Already, he had kissed and licked what seemed like every inch of your skin. Your release dripped from you and into his greedy mouth latched to your folds as you came down from your high, tugging his dark locks of hair.

“Ransom, please.”

“Yes, love?” His lips grazed a path up your stomach, then up between your breasts littered with red love bites. He rubbed his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

“Need to feel you.”

Ransom grinned. He pulled you upward, lifting and turning you so you rested in his lap with your shoulder blades meeting his chest dusted with fine hair. You arched your back, feeling his hard, leaking cock so hot against your skin. His fingers combed your hair aside, mouth nipping and kissing from your neck to your shoulder.

His hand cupped your sex, groaning at the soaked heat of you. He guided you, lifting up just enough to run the sensitive head of his cock through your folds. Your whine forced more precum to dribble from his slit. He could resist no longer, his cock splitting you open as he drew you down upon his lap until he was buried to the hilt in your tight heat. Soft curses met your ears. You bit your lip, grinding back and forth. Ransom squeezed your waist, held you still.

“Ransom…”

Damned, how he loved the sound of his name falling from you, needy and wrecked from pleasure. And still wanting more of him. He couldn’t begin to guess how someone like him could deserve your affections and loyalty. Good thing he was a greedy bastard, unrepentant of his actions that had blessed his home and bed with you.

Shivers wracked your spine when he cooed at you with his gravelly tone. “You want me, love?”

“Want you so bad.”

He smirked at your whimper when he swirled his groin slow beneath you. His tongue teased along your earlobe, driving a plea from you.

“Want you, Ransom. Oh, please.”

“And you’ll give me what I desire, yes? Will you, love?”

You managed jerky nods, choking when he slid agonizingly slow from your cunt and pushed back into you. Only to stop and hold himself there, speared maddeningly in you.

His breath tickled your ear. “You, love, are going to give me a baby. Yes?”

He drove his hips up, drawing a moan from you.

“Isn’t that right, darling?”

“Y-yes…Rans…ah” You stuttered with his deep, hard strokes.

“Is that what you want? Hm? Big, beautiful family with me?”

“Yes.” Your response rushed out, breathy.

“Love you. Want to fill you up over and over.”

You whined loud, his words and the drag of his thick cock inside you driving you crazy.

“Because you’re mine. You’re all mine.” His hand curled over yours, pressing your palm and fingers to your core where the two of you were joined beneath dark curls. “Feel that?”

“Oh god.” You surely felt what he wanted you to. His steely member claiming you again and again.

“Yes, feel me and you? This.” He kept your hand there, feeling every push and pull of his cock, from inside and out, so you couldn’t escape him. “Feel how you belong to me? All of you. You’re mine forever.”

“I’m yours….” You cried out as his rhythm sped up. “Ransom!”

You threw your head back, both yours and his fingers circling the nub of your inflamed clit, his harsh breaths beating against your neck as his words blended.

“Mine,” he grunted.

Your pleasure burst like a dam, your release splashed and squirted out, then throbbed with his relentless touch. The wave spread outward, tensing your muscles, buzzing upon your skin. Feeling you squeeze and flutter around him drove Ransom to the brink until all he could think of was filling you, rooting his seed into you so you grew soft and big with his child. You were the beginning and finish of his everything.

Ransom couldn’t stop himself. His strokes grew uneven but remained deep, hard, determined. His arm wrapped around you tight as he launched you both forward, driving you onto your hands and knees so he could rut as deep as possible. You moaned, overcome with the hot rush of his seed filling you and his cock pounding it deeper into you.

You both settled into the bed with tangled limbs, slowing your breaths and the ache of desire. Your toes curled, enjoying the pressure of his cock nestled in you still, content that you both were looking forward to your first child. To a family all your own.

[britishassistant]

What happens if a new villain comes to town and starts tearing shit up? Like a new rival shows up, falls in love with yuu, and kidnaps them before enacting a huge take over the city scheme, will the NRC and RSA finally come together for the same goal? Or would it lead to chaotic in-fighting in their individual attempts to rescue the reporter and save the city/stop this jerk face from showing them up only for yuu to break out just so they can knock them all upside the head?

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

“It’s so simple, love.” The villain coos, one hand cupping Yuu’s chin gently to tilt their face up, “Just accept my proposal, and we won’t need to have any nasty accidents where you and the tarmac down there have a...terminal disagreement.”

Yuu glances down at the drop from where they’ve been “tied” to the top of the skyscraper by the metal beams that the supervillain bent around their body like they were rubber. They think they can see a flock of pigeons flapping by below them. “That’s your idea of a threat? Really? Because I’ve heard worse over breakfast. Sorry, but I really don’t think we have the right chemistry to accept marriage to the likes of you.”

The villain pouts, leaning against the tip of the building as if they were a pair of people chatting on the streets far below, and not one hapless captive tied to an antenna and their captor floating with nary a second thought in midair. “Oh c’mon now love. Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be—you know that I could do far better with your Daddy’s little league than any of those second-rate bozos crowding around you.”

The reporter’s gaze sharpens, the corner of their mouth curling up in a snarl. “Don’t. Refer to them. Like that. They’re each seven times the supervillain you are, at least. Besides, I’d rather be turned into pancake mix on the pavement than do anything that could advance that man’s little projects.”

The villain tuts, coiffed hair ruffled by the breeze as he leans in far closer than Yuu is comfortable with. “Don’t play hard to get, love. So you’ve got Daddy issues, who doesn’t? It’s no reason to get in the way of progress. Maybe you’ll change your mind if I show you exactly what I can offer...”

Yuu recoils as the villain’s tongue forces its way into their mouth when their lips collide with all the force of a car crash, an invasive writhing thing that makes them gag at how far it pushes in as the villain hums greedily at their taste.

And one that the reporter swiftly brings their teeth down on.

Hard.

“FUCK! Ugh—you foul little bitch!!”

The backhand jars the reporter’s skull even as they brace for it, cutting the inside of their mouth and leaving them worried that if they try spitting out the blood gathering there, they’ll lose a tooth along with it.

The villain huffs, one hand carding through his ruffled hair. His tongue is already whole and unblemished, the last indents of their teeth healing as the reporter watches. “I didn’t want to do this, you know. I would’ve gladly taken you to the altar, and had you screaming in our wedding bed. I could’ve made you happy, if you’d just do what you’re told.”

Yuu sneers. “Frankly, I can’t imagine anything more boring.”

They take cold comfort in the fury that burns in the supervillain’s eyes at that.

“Fine. Fine.” The villain floats away, his eyes glowing that same bright red that melted through the wall to Yuu’s bedroom when they were first taken. “I was prepared to do this the nice way. I wanted to do this the nice way. But if you’re going to be such a little bitch about it, then I can always rely on the old fashioned method of succession.”

The laser beams swipe through the block of abandoned offices four stories below where the reporter is tied up.

The top of the building wavers, then begins to crumble forwards.

The villain says something else, probably something mocking and challenging them to get out of this mess because that’s the kind of cliche line that’s always used here, but Yuu can’t hear him over the whistle of the wind in their ears and the scream torn from their throat as they plummet.

They try frantically tug their arms free as their legs are pulled upwards by gravity, try their damndest to squirm free, but it’s no use, they’re not The Prefect right now, don’t even have the fedora on them, they’re Yuu, just Yuu, just helpless reporter Yuu, who can’t break steel beams with their pathetic powerless normal person strength, they’re going to die, they’re going to die, they’re going to die, they’re going to die, they’re going to die, they’re going to die, they’re going to die, they’re going to die, they’re going to die, oh Great Seven, they’re going to die—!

“KING'S ROAR!!!”

There’s a discombobulating moment of freefall as the metal and concrete around them disintegrates into sand.

Then a strong, wiry arm loops around their waist and they’re pinned to a carpet as their rapid descent gradually slows to a stop in midair.

“Need a lift?” They can’t see Snake Charmer’s eyebrows through the mask, but they get the feeling one of them is raised in a wry fashion as he smirks at them.

The reporter lets out a hysterical, shaky laugh that only narrowly escapes becoming a sob, trembling hands seizing onto the two supervillains like they’re lifelines. “Wh-what took y-you so long? Did you ge-get held up in traffic?”

King grumbles, flicking their temple gently as Water Boy laughs gleefully from where he’s steering the carpet. “You could show a little more gratitude, herbivore. Do you know how hard it was to evade all the goody-two-shoes on the way here to save your ass?”

Yuu’s about to reply, when they catch a movement above them out of the corner of their eye.

“INCOMING!!”

Water Boy jerks the flying carpet to the side just in time for the villain to plunge past them fist-first, close enough to see his teeth bared in a furious snarl.

“DRIVE!!” Snake Charmer screams at his lieutenant above the rushing wind as the villain rises back up to try his luck again. Water Boy presses the corners of the carpet forwards and they go into a rollercoaster dive that makes the reporter’s stomach roil in protest.

King unleashes his powers on the two buildings behind them, disintegrating the foundations in hopes that the tonnes of concrete and rebar would be enough to slow the flying brick chasing them. The villain just bursts through the obstacles with nary a broken sweat, and speeds up to the point where Water Boy has to turn the carpet upside down so they don’t get knocked out of the sky.

“Where the fuck is that computer junkie?!?” King yells at Snake Charmer as they draw dangerously close to the road below. “He was supposed to be here hours ago!!”

“How am I supposed to know?!” They can hear Snake Charmer’s heartbeat hammer in his chest from where he’s pinning them to the vehicle in the absence of a seatbelt. “It was the conman who was meant to give him the si—”

Yuu can barely scream a warning in time as the villain looms behind Leona’s head, eyes glowing red and ready.

A rush of flying metal harpies collide with the bastard’s face, effectively pinning him in midair as he struggles to destroy the thousands-strong swarm that obstructs his path to them.

“OPEN FIRE!!” Comes Hermes’ high-pitched cry as a blue beam shoots past them at the center of the robotic maelstrom.

A pair of red lasers rocket out to meet it, almost seeming as though it could push Ortho’s assault back—!

A white-hot streak of lightening descends from the formerly clear sky to where the villain was pinned, disrupting the red eye lasers and allowing Hermes’ beam to make contact.

There’s a hideous scream and the stench of burnt meat.

“We’re coming in too fast!!” Water Boy yells, tugging on the carpet’s tassels until they’re almost vertical. “Ja—I, I don’t know if we’ll slow down in time!!”

Yuu barely hears the curses the other two occupants spit, lunging to try and cover as much of them as they can with their body. Even if they crash, if Yuu can just absorb most of the shock of the landing—!

Small pinpricks of pain latch onto their scalp, their pajamas, the carpet and supervillains beneath them, hundreds of small beating appendages smacking them all in the face as the carpet’s rapid descent slows incrementally.

“Oh boys~?”

Four sets of strong hands seize the front of the carpet, their owners grunting as they attempt to force the carpet’s stop through sheer force. Of course, the continued existence of Newton’s Third Law combined with the reporter’s precarious shielding position means that though the carpet experiences sudden stop, Yuu keeps going at the same high speed that will ensure serious injury once they hit the tarmac.

Or it would do, if they didn’t collide with a solid chest and waiting pair of arms first.

The reporter finds themselves cradled in a nearly crushing grip, their catcher muttering “child of man, child of man,” into the top of their head and a warm thumb swipes over the rapidly darkening bruise on their cheek. The wind picks up around them alarmingly, whipping into a gale.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m okay.” Yuu reaches up to pat Tsunotaro’s head soothingly. “See? Just a few scrapes and a little scare. Give me an ice pack and a shower and I’ll be right as rain.”

Tsunotaro doesn’t look very convinced, but at least the wind drops to more of a strong breeze.

“Oi, let ‘em down, you dumb lizard.” King growls behind the reporter, the rings on his tail clattering as it swishes irritably. “We did all the work of saving them, you don’t get to take the rewards.”

Tsunotaro clutches them closer, getting that stubborn look in his eyes that makes Yuu want to groan in exasperation. “No.”

“Why you—!”

“Now, now children, the world works in mysterious ways.” Batman beams. “I’ve always found destiny draws those it finds most suitable together.”

The reporter rolls their eyes as King snarls in response to that remark and Snake Charmer mutters, “I didn’t know ‘destiny’ was what you called interfering old fools.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Snake Charmer climbs off the carpet and straightens his headscarf. “What’s next?”

There’s a crash as the mass of robots pinning the singed villain about three blocks down the street begins to shift, however unwillingly.

“‘Kay, the ‘save the princess’ team barely cleared the parameters for their part of the mission.” Charon’s floating tablet drifts forward, the sounds of frantic tapping on a keyboard almost drowning out his voice. “Now it’s time for the ‘aggro’ and ‘debuff’ teams to move in, Tsuntaro-sshi, Royal-sshi.”

“Understood. I’ll leave the coordinating of the others to you, Charon.” Royal Flush looks up and raises an unimpressed eyebrow at the tall fae. “Well? Are you coming?”

Yuu could almost swear they hear a small grumble as Tsunotaro finally lets them down out of his grasp. He runs his thumb over their injured cheek one last time. “Sebek, Silver. Defend the reporter as you would me.”

“Yes, Tsunotaro-sama!” The two of them chorus.

Royal Flush shakes his head, then reaches out and squeezes Yuu’s hand once. “If anything happens, Three of Clovers and Howl-san will get you somewhere safe. But this shouldn’t take long.”

“Oi, don’t presume to give orders to my minion, Flush.” King growls, inserting himself bodily between the two of them. His mouth curls up in a smirk as he places a proprietary hand on top of their head. “Besides, I’ll be here, won’t I?”

Royal Flush and Tsunotaro narrow their eyes at him, but their attention is claimed by the sound of metal crashing down the street as the villain shrugs off the rubble, the burns on his arms and face healing rapidly as they watch. His eyes flicker over their motley group, before settling on Yuu with laser-precision.

It’s only the arrow that flies into his shoulder, combined with a second lightening bolt striking him from the blue that keeps that metaphor from becoming literal.

Yuu chokes a little at the pressure on their pajama shirt collar as they’re dragged out of the line of fire. From where they’re crouched behind a car, they can see Tsunotaro and Hermes throwing almost everything he’s got as the bastard, while Royal tries to close the distance without ending up attacked himself. They also catch a glimpse of who they think is Leviathan silently gliding closer through the alleys on the far side of the street.

But the villain just won’t stop getting back up. Despite the fact that anyone sane would’ve given up the moment the green flames were broken out, he keeps coming, no matter how many times he gets thrown back.

And he’s clearly getting closer to the reporter he so desperately wants to kill.

“Now what?” Yuu asks, barely able to hear themselves think over the worried growl rumbling from Jack’s chest.

Charon’s muttering to himself as more of his robots fly by overhead. “Need to pin down the rate of regen, if we can get that and surpass it so the ‘debuff’ team can do their thing before the second wave gets here, but what is it?”

The reporter blinks. Well, taking into account the insult, and the backhand...

“He was able to heal his tongue about...four, maybe five seconds after I’d bitten through it? That’s only a rough estimate though, it may’ve been shorter.” They murmur.

The area around them goes very quiet.

“B-bitten through...?” Water Boy asks, hand coming up to his own mouth with a wince.

Yuu scowls. “That creep put it in my mouth when I did not ask him to. Ugh, I would’ve gone for his balls too, but the metal didn’t let me lift my legs that far.”

They huff for a moment at the unfairness of it. Then, “King, stop grinning at me like that.”

“Like what herbivore?” His tone is the picture of innocence, even if the way he’s eying them is most decidedly not.

Snake Charmer ‘accidentally’ kicks him in the shin as the sound of frantic typing erupts from the tablet again. “Setting the Erinyes to follow up on Ortho’s and Tsunotaro-sshi’s attacks within a three point five second time frame...fwe he he he, let’s see how that mob likes this!”

With the clack of what sounds like an enter key, the robots above them begin divebombing the villain in sequence, deliberately targeting the parts of him injured by Tsunotaro and Hermes’ blows.

One of them sacrifices itself in a kamikaze dive that leaves a bleeding scratch on his arm.

The villain roars, the force of his fury almost knocking them over even with how far away their little group is crouched, turning the lasers on every robot within his line of sight.

Of course, this means he stops paying attention to the three supervillains who have been steadily making their way towards him.

“FAIREST ONE OF ALL!”

“IT’S A DEAL!”

“OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!”

The powers hit the villain one after another, his lasers sputtering out with a pained scream. The scratch on his arm doesn’t start healing. Neither does the gash he gets across his face when Poison Queen roundhouse kicks him away with those stilettos of his.

“Was that it?” Leviathan says, his careless facade somewhat ruined by the fact that he wobbles as he begins to levitate. “I must confess I don’t understand what all the tr-trouble was.”

A low whistle by their ear makes Yuu jump. “The bosses can be scary when they wanna be. Remind me never to piss off those three at once.”

The reporter look up to see Ace and Floyd standing behind them. “Ace, wha—where have you been?!”

Floyd giggles and Ace shoots them an evil grin as they chorus, “Sending out party invites~”

Yuu blinks and tries to puzzle out this cryptic phrase, but their attention is swiftly drawn back to the scene of the battle at the sound of manic, unhinged laughter.

“You think you’ve won? You think something like this will stop me?!” The villain cackles, eyes wild and beginning to grow red again despite the way his body tenses and the collar around his neck starts to buckle. “You think that second-rate half-hearted hacks like you can stop someone like me?!? I am your superior!! You all will bend the knee once I snap that ungrateful little bitch’s neck and take my rightful place as head of the League!!! I’ll decimate every last one of those pathetic, moronic heroes who pollute this city like a fungus!! And then, oh , and then I’ll make every last one of you who thought they could get away with this pitiable attempt to stop me—”

“Us? Here to stop you?” Poison Queen tilts his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re supervillains.”

“Stopping the likes of you.” Leviathan proclaims triumphantly, “Is their job.”

The villain stops.

The villain turns.

Over half the top heroes of the Royal Sword Association lead here by the minions meet his gaze.

“Hello.” Niko Niko Neko says with a wide grin.

Yuu isn’t close enough to hear if the villain whimpers, but they almost wish they were.

Almost.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Is it okay if I can request head cannons of the Obey me boys (Brothers and Nowdateables if you can) reacting to a chaotic, savage MC that takes no shit and isn’t worried about their life when they get threatened? The brothers start off as jerks to them and MC’s like “I think tf not! You will treat me how you would like to be treated or we’re gonna have some problems! 🤨”

Lucifer:*threatens them* I’ll punish you if you keep embarrassing Lord Diavolo’s program! *in demon form*

MC: Luci, if I’m gonna be very honest; I don’t really care. In fact, I didn’t even ask to be here for you to nag at me like that’s my concern. Do your worst so I can cope with my trauma in my room again 😑

Leviathan:*threatening to kill MC over TSL*

MC: Go ahead, funerals are expensive anyways 😐 *genuinely doesn’t care*

That’s literally all my picks in the game, and I think the boys assume I’m a serial killer. *Insert Rick & Morty Summer shrug*

Obey me Boys + ‘Fight Me’ MC Headcanons

Lucifer

At first he thinks it’s all bravado

Which is really just annoying

Once he realizes that they really don’t care, he’s amused and intrigued

Concerned for their safety though. Bravery is one thing. Stupidity is another

Mammon

Flabbergasted

No one has ever clapped back at him before

Doesn’t know what to do with an abnormal response like that and just deflates like a flan in a cupboard

Low key high key more in love with MC

Levi

Metal Gear Solid exclamation point sound

Doesn’t know what to do if someone calls his bluff

His bark is a million times worse that his bite

Goes from big attack dog to shivering lap puppy in 2 seconds

Satan

Frowny face

Does not like this attitude (even though he’s the one copping attitude by threatening to maim you)

Will try to reason with MC since violence doesn’t seem to be the answer

Admires & respects them after a while. You have to be tough to hand in the Devildom

Asmo

The only thing Asmo like abrasive is his loofa

Would not respond well to chaotic energy

Attempts made to have MC act more delicate and genteel. Like a backwards, demon My Fair Lady play.

Low key aroused. But then again, what doesn’t get him aroused

Beel

Confused. Why do you want to fight everybody?

Wouldn’t really get where this energy is coming from, since his life’s goal seems to be peace and harmony wherever he can find it which is rare in the HL

Gets upset when you talk about yourself that way, like your life doesn’t matter

Also mistakes MC’s ‘fight me’ energy as wanting to spar. Sparkle eyes over the idea to train.

Belphie

“Ahh...my angel”

Being super yandere, he’d respond really well to this

Someone who will love him even though he’s moody and violent and would straight up cut people. Yes please!

Will test the bonds of your loyalty and bravery though. Be sure to dodge.

Solomon

Calm down Beyoncé......

His dry sense of humor is often misunderstood. So his ‘threats’ are really a joke

Would find it incredibly amusing if you came back at him with an equally cool ‘come at me bro’ quip

Congratulations. You are now best friends

Luke

Cue sad puppy eyes

I think his ‘threats’ would be more cranky comments about how your no better than those smelly demons

But he really doesn’t mean it! Honest, honest! Please don’t be mad!

More senpai in love with you if you use your ‘cool stats’ to stand up for him. His shiny human hero.

Simeon

Wh....Why would you say that?

Would not understand why you had such an extreme reaction.

Being an angel, and their expression level on standard neutral, he wouldn’t really get why you would want to react this way to things

Not every slight deserve a response. Let’s move along dear.

Diavalo

Cue trade mark boisterous laugh

As mentioned before, you have to be tough to hang in the Devildom

Proud and admires your spunk in not letting things get to you

Let’s both do our best and be strong together!!

Barbatos

Amused and delighted by your spirit

Unintentionally the one that makes you feel most like a child with his response

He doesn’t mean it. It’s just that unintentionally condescending butler tone

Fury more times 1000x when he pats you on the head like he doesn’t take you seriously

[object-show-analysis]

Flower’s character arc and where it came from

A lot of people seem to think Flower’s actions in the final episode of BFB were out of character or came out of no where. So let’s talk about it.

Most claims I see when people accuse characters of acting “ooc” in the finale seem to come from an inability to recognize the slow progression/change in goals. Yes, characters like Four and Firey all might seem out of character if you judge them from the first time we see them in the show, but what they’ve been trying to achieve has been slowly changing throughout the course of BFB, to the point where it was relatively easy to predict their actions in the final episode.

But when it comes to Flower, it’s even more than that. Her actions line up with everything we’ve been told about her since episode 1.

From Episode 1 of BFDI we’ve known one thing about Flower. Her motivation is Attention. She wants to be Seen. She wants to be Admired. She wants to be Loved. A good season one example of this is her first ever line in the show:

She hasn’t even shown her face yet and she’s already asked someone to what they think of her physical appearance.

This behavior can be dated back to the Firey Comics, but as those don’t count as fully canon in the BFDI lore, I won’t discuss them.

Early on it’s established that Flower wants attention and admiration from other people, so you can imagine it must have hurt when she’s the first to get eliminated.

And we Know it hurt her. But we’ll get back to that in a moment.

BFB put a lot of effort into giving the very 2D characters more 3D personalities. In the first episode of BFB, we get an interesting parallel to Flower’s appearance being insulting in the first episode of BFDI

Ruby claims, seemingly out of no where, that she thinks Flower is beautiful. This immediately grabs Flower’s attention. As up until this point, no one has seemed to believe she was attractive.

Flower is later seen in episode 5 of BFB to be astonished by Ruby’s opinion of her, asking her to help get other people to think she’s beautiful as well. This re-establishes the idea that Flower’s main goal is to be seen as beautiful.

When Ruby says that she no longer thinks Flower is beautiful, it upsets Flower quite a lot. Leading to her changing her appearance in any way she can, allowing herself to be berated by Ruby in an effort to make Ruby like her again. All because “it does feel nice being called beautiful again,”

So right away we already know a few things about Flower

1. She wants people to think she’s beautiful

2. She’s willing to do things that are frustrating or demeaning if it means people will think she’s beautiful

3. It makes her feel good when someone says she’s beautiful

This behavior seems to stay solid for most of BFB, though the root of her desire does seem to shift.

The desire to be seen as beautiful widens over time into a desire to be Liked. As she shows in more and more competitions a desire to impress her team.

The fact that she wants to be liked seems to become more obvious post-split. Starting with her getting angry when Taco wants to be with Spongy instead of her, and her reaction Firey thinking of her as a friend in BFB 18.

Clearly Flower puts a lot of value on people who like her. And over time she develops more friends who really understand her and care about her. (Most notably Firey, Loser and Leafy), to the point where she’s not afraid to turn Taco away when she rethinks Flower’s alliance offer.

She is still very trusting and eager to form new relationships, which leads to TD being able to manipulate her in episode 27, but over all Flower seems to really evolve as a character. Shes more confident in herself and her abilities. She works to be more understanding of the people around her. And she tries very hard in everything she does.

She makes it clear in BFB 24 that elimination is something she fears a lot, which is understandable considering she was the only person to be completely alone in the TLC in BFDI, and being eliminated would undo all the hard work she put in.

Her panicked monologue after Purple Face leads her to believe she’s being eliminated tells us a lot about her. She tells us “I played the whole season wanting to redeem myself” which proves she’s been working hard to undo past mistakes and become a kind person. She feels humiliated at the very idea of being eliminated.

But something interesting that will be important to her behavior in episode 30 is that while she’s going over all her regrets, never once does she mention the actual prize. She says she wanted to prove everyone wrong again. “Everyone” being the people who thought she’d get out. She wants to show that she’s worth something. She wants to redeem herself. And in her eyes, winning is the way to do that. The actual prize of the game was never in her mind.

This is why it doesn’t seem surprising when she gives Gelatin the BFB. She knows he wanted it more than anyone else. And in the end, the prize wasn’t what she wanted at all. This is the same reason she eventually forfeits the BFDI to the announcer as well. Though she was reluctant to give it up as a sign of her effort. The actual prizes weren’t what she was fighting for.

Flower wanted something far more valuable than the BFDI and the BFB. She wanted people. People who saw her as beautiful. People who supported her. People that loved her. And people who she loved back. That’s what winning was to her.

And considering the show ends with her wishing two of her best friends good luck on their journey, and then turning to look at all the other people that she’s formed bonds with over the course of the show

She really did win, didn’t she?