#exclusive exterior details

[reticulating-splines]

WIP - West 70th

1880s-1910s row of Upper West Side townhomes.

Been working on this row of late 19th c. brownstones on and off for the past year now, so needless to say when I heard about For Rent I was hype.

Download Here

This initially started because I was homesick for NYC during the pandemic. Specifically for the area of the upper west side my dorm was in while I was a student. I mainly blame this experience for my obsession with historical architecture - walking along central park west past the Dakota on the way to the subway, smoking on the stoops of the brownstones late at night, going to classes in the wedding cake that is the Ansonia - it was just everywhere, and so, so beautiful to look at.

Except a lot of it is faded glory - buildings subdivided, details chipped or covered in the thickest coats of grime or paint. So I wanted to replicate some of the old New York from around the turn of the century. The one I read about in the Luxe series and saw in the Samantha movie lol.

The basement or garden level of each four-story brownstone will be dedicated to the original purpose as the main workplace of the service staff. Unfortunately no room for the actual garden, so laundry lines and planters are on the roof. There are bedrooms and bathrooms for a cook and a housekeeper/butler, along with the staff dining and the kitchen. The butler's pantry is directly upstairs from the kitchen, and the top floor is almost exclusively made up of staff bedrooms and washrooms.

I usually do the service areas first because they're the most interesting, and there was nothing more interesting than a full edwardian brownstone kitchen. Lots of exposed piping, beadboard, subway tile, and shelves of clutter. Has a separate scullery, pantry, and stairs down to a basement storeroom to keep your best champs-le-sims nectar in. There's also a servant's bellboard in the kitchen and the staff dining room. It along with the "boiler" system are made with tool and CC-free.

The main entrance and parlor are doing their best to continue the gothic revival theme of the exterior. The library and dining room follow in the enfilade starting in the parlor. Since this first house is a corner lot, it has a bit more width and space than a true brownstone. The only actual brownstone I've been inside of is Lady Mendl's, so ofc I had to have an extensive tea setup. Def took a lot of inspo from these two pics alone for these rooms.

The main stairwell and picture gallery lead to three large bedrooms on the second floor, and then up to the children's room and nanny's bedroom on the third floor. I really like skylights. I learned the importance of decent lightwells in staving off depression one semester when my window looked out onto a brick wall

The master bedroom and the children's room above it both have their own private sitting rooms and bathrooms. All rooms have either fireplaces or cast iron radiators.

There's no way this is going to be finished by the time For Rent comes out, so im just going to release it in whatever state it's in when it does come out. The exteriors and interior room layout for all the townhomes will (hopefully) most likely be set by then anyway.

Now available for download!

Also the anniversary of Chez Cromwell is coming up! Ive been gone for the better part of the year due to starting a new job, but I havent been idle. C.Cromwell has been updated for infants and ceilings, which led to me redoing the exterior and almost every room, so a rerelease is coming v soon! Sneak peek below. Happy Thanksgiving!

[whosyuno]

hotel paradise (m) | ft. jung jaehyun

summary you visit an exclusive brothel to satisfy your needs. cw smut, praise, humiliation, toy play, light choking, squirting word count 3.1k a/n i'm thinking of turning this into a smut series featuring different members of nct hehe! chap two three

It’s only when you’ve spent half the night burrowing your vibrator between your thighs and it decided to die right before you’ve reached your climax, that you decided to take up your colleague’s suggestion. 

Fresh out of a break-up, you had moved to Seoul a few months back. The money here was better anyways and you wanted to forget all about your ex. All your highschool friends that had moved to Seoul always talked about how Seoul was the It-Place. Where the people were wild and parties were wilder. You thought you were finally going to find people that brought the much needed excitement and thrill you desired, particularly in your bedroom. Your ex-boyfriend, although your highschool sweetheart, wasn’t the best in bed and most of his attempts had left you feeling unsatisfied and yearning for more… fun.

Of course, nothing ever turned out the way you wanted and, now, six months into your stay in Seoul, you’ve never had anyone approach you, much less touch you. But when one of your colleagues-turned-friends caught wind of your little situation, she had casually introduced you to “just the place to get your needs sorted”. 

So that’s how, at 2:38AM on a Saturday, you found yourself standing before an unassuming building, its exterior the same dark maroon bricks as the surrounding buildings with a panel of frosted glass doors facing you. The light from within shone into the street, illuminating the empty night, if not for the lingering drunkards from the parties before. 

You glanced down at your phone, at an invitation message, as you took a moment to steel your resolve. You tried to push out the thoughts of doubt out of your head. In any case, if Hotel Paradise was exclusive enough to require an invitation by an existing member, then that must be a green flag, right?

You were immediately greeted by a bleach-blond haired lady when you walked through the doors. She looked neat and tidy, which calmed your anxieties about this being a sketchy brothel just a little. 

“Welcome to Hotel Paradise, I’m Taeyeon, what can I do for you?” she said, with a perfected customer service smile. 

You showed her your invitation message, and she made quick work in creating a membership for you in the system. 

“Any requests for tonight?” she asked and gestured towards the plaques in front of you.

Your cheeks were quick to turn pink at her direct question. You glanced over at the plaques on the surface of the reception desk. Laminated behind plastic, they detailed a list of 20 boys, with photos and a short list of their strengths. Amidst your fluster, you quickly pointed at the first one that caught your attention. Jung Jaehyun, Toy Play, Praise and Humiliation. 

“Okay,” she said as her freshly manicured fingers ran across her keyboard, “looks like he’s free currently. Is there anything else you’d like?”

You shook your head, mortified to share any more of your kinks with a stranger - kinks that you didn’t even share with your ex. 

It took a moment before Taeyeon motioned you to go up the spiral stairs behind the counter. Second room to your left, she mentioned. You swallowed your saliva, before walking into the room. 

The room was quite spacious, with egg-white paint coating the walls, a neatly made king-sized bed in the middle and a decent bathroom attached. If it wasn't for the row of sex toys placed on the table at the foot of the bed, you could have fooled anyone into thinking it was a room in any respectable hotel. 

“My, my, what a lovely guest,” the man in the middle of the room came to greet you. 

Immediately, you were captivated by his looks. You had picked him, for the most part, due to his photo. But looking at him in person was a whole other experience. His fluffy brown hair was carelessly tossed backwards with a few stray strands perfectly framing his face. His almond-shaped eyes were pressed into crescents and only god knew how hard you’d fall for his dazzling smile.

His hands reached over and removed the little shoulder bag that you had brought with you. And in a smooth motion, his arm slipped around your waist as he guided you to sit on the bed.  It was only now, sitting in front of Jaehyun, that you’d wished you had spent just a little more time in choosing a more appropriate outfit. In a rush to satisfy your needs and to save on laundry efforts, you had put on your office wear - a neat powder blue blouse tucked into wide legged black trousers - the same one that had worn to the office on Friday.

“Busy day, huh?” he asked, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before resting his hand on your jawline. 

You nodded; your cheeks flushed against his warm touch. Your attention was entirely drawn in by him and his effortless charm.

“I’ll reward you for working hard,” he said before gently kissing you. 

His lips, soft and plump, pressed against yours softly, as if testing out the waters. Once, then twice. And another. When your arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer, his tongue skillfully parted your lips and darted into your mouth. He tasted like cool mint, and you caught a whiff of his sandalwood cologne. The intensity and fervour of the kiss only increased with each passing moment. Lust ignited a flame within you that spread across your body. 

He used his body weight and pushed you down on the bed, with one knee between your legs to balance. His hand wandered around your body, caressing your breast, your waist and your butt before his fingers made quick work of your pants’ button and zipper. He slid the trousers off and, with a little kick from you, threw the pants across the room. 

His lips then left yours for a moment, and it drew out a whine that you had never heard yourself make. It pleased him to hear your voice. You watched as a simple make out transformed the sweet and charming man into a lustful one. His once inviting smile morphed into a thirsty smirk, his lips were swollen, and his eyes burned with desire. 

He left the bed for a moment, picking up your trousers and a small vibrator from the table before returning to you. He used the trousers as a makeshift rope to tie both your wrists to the bedpost and before dropping down between your legs.

“You look so pretty from down here,” he said as he placed the small vibrator against your clothed clit. 

He moved it up and down, along your slit, taking in your moans of pleasure. He watched your every effort to push yourself closer to climax: how you’d buck your hips when the vibe hitted the right spot, how your moans got louder and less restrained and how your hands struggled against the bedpost. 

“Please, please, please,” you cried out, “please let me cum- oh my god, I’m so close.” 

Everything you did only pleased him further. 

“You’re such a little slut, aren’t you?” He slid the vibrator away from your clit, “Already cumming for a stranger you’ve barely met?” 

Your hips bucked and adjusted, hoping to feel the vibrator again, “Please, please.” 

You whined and moaned but all he did was watch. His control was immaculate, he’d place the vibrator against your clit and just as you were about to cum, he’d take it off. Then he did it again. And again. 

“Say it,” he said, “Let me hear it. What are you?” 

A blush of mortification coloured your cheeks, no one had ever called you a slut.

“I’m…” You struggled to get the words out. 

Jaehyun punished your hesitation by pushing the vibrator against your clit again. 

You whined and were reminded of the reward at the end of the sentence, “I’m a slut. I’m a slut just for you.” 

Pleased with your words and your desperation, Jaehyun finally let you cum, “That’s right, cum for me, slut. You’re such a good slut for me.”

He watched as the ecstasy ebbed through your body, your hips bucking high before crashing down against the bed, your fingers digging into your palms and your lips carelessly spewing out ‘thank you’s and ‘oh my god’s. 

“That felt good, right?” 

You nodded, albeit a little tired from that singular orgasm. It’s not an exaggeration to say that no one had made you feel the way his touch did. Forcing you to brand yourself as a slut sparked a new thrill for yourself. Everything he did only drew you into his lust-driven heaven. 

He let you rest for a brief moment, as he swapped out the small vibrator for a vibrating dildo this time. 

Watching Jaehyun put the dildo in his hands, you perked up with more energy. 

By now, your cotton panties had been drenched in your juices. So, Jaehyun slipped them off to reveal your pussy. It’s been awhile since you’ve shaved, it wasn’t like you had anyone to show them to. This was an impromptu decision you had made. You immediately shut your legs up together, hiding them in embarrassment.

Jaehyun responded by softly prying your legs open, “no need for shyness now, kitten.” 

His words were charming and comforting, which gave you just that little boost of confidence that you had needed. You opened your legs again.

This time, a newfound hunger engulfed Jaehyun at the sight of your glistening core.  

He was quick to abandon his initial plan, lowering himself between your legs before burying himself into your thighs. Like a parched lion, his tongue was quick to lap up your juices. 

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he mumbled against your core, the vibration created a new sensation and drew out a soft mewl from you.

His tongue moved skillfully, each motion methodical and purposeful. He alternated between licking up and down your wet heat and swirling his tongue around your swollen clit. Either way, your head was dizzy with arousal. Your hips grinded against his face, searching for another release. Explicit words mixed with his name and your pleas carelessly tumbled out of your lips. Try as you might, you could barely contain your voice.

You hadn’t noticed it, but in the midst of your pleasure, Jaehyun had managed to push a singular finger into your core. His initial finger worked slower than his mouth, it’s only when a second finger thrusted into you that you felt him. The new sensation added to the maddening haze.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whined, your body stiffening in anticipation. 

“Cum,” his command was firm, “cum for me, my pretty little slut.” 

The release was instantaneous, arousal flooded your system and your entire body quaked with pleasure. You almost saw white with that release. Your body heaved with a singular motion, crashing down into the bed. But Jaehyun didn’t let you rest; he was quick to replace his fingers with the vibrating dildo that he had chosen previously. A gasp escaped your lips, feeling yourself stretch around the foreign object. He turned it out and began pumping it into you. He ignored your pleas, revelling in the dishevelled sight of you. Office drone turned into a moaning mess. A twisted pleasure coursed through your body, a tinge of pain from sensitivity mixed with the dildo drilling into your g-spot. You begged him to stop, he didn’t. Your body buckled under the overstimulation; you were sure you were going to die if he didn’t stop. 

You caught a glimpse of his wicked smirk, taking pride in his work. 

Then, you fell from the cusp of your pleasure. A stream of clear liquid squirted from between your legs and onto Jaehyun’s face. Your eyes widened when you came to it, the first time that you had ever squirted. The pink flush on your cheeks reddened with more embarrassment. But before you had the time to apologise and explain that you didn’t intend on squirting all over him, he spoke first.

“Look at you, squirting all over me,” Jaehyun said, discarding the dildo, “I barely did anything, you know.” 

His velvety voice sent shivers down your spine. Your humiliation grew under the weight of his words, and the truth of the situation. He was a stranger that you’ve barely met, and here you were cumming so easily at his every touch. His eyes, filled with great desire, burned into yours, and that thrill you felt under his gaze only further cemented the truth. You were acting like a complete slut for him. 

You watched as he removed his jeans, then boxers. The sight of his member had your mouth salivating over it. You didn’t know you were such a slut. You could feel the growing heat between your legs as your mind conjured up images of his dick drilling into you. A foreign desire to just let him devour you arose. A strange impatience took over your mind whilst watching him slip on a condom. 

“Why?” he crawled back on the bed, hovering over your body, “Like what you see?” 

He didn’t wait for your reply, instead choosing to immediately thrust into you. A loud gasp escaped your throat. He felt bigger than you’d imagined. You were sure that he would split your body in half if he was any bigger and was grateful that he gave you a moment to adjust to his size. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he growled. He adjusted himself, with one hand holding on to the bedframe for balance, and the other rested around your neck. 

“Stop giving me such erotic looks, whore,” a twisted grin spread across his handsome face, “it only makes me want to mess you up even more.” 

His hips moved with practiced ease, each thrust deep and impactful and drew out loud gasps from you. He started rocking his hips quicker and sloppier, his hand tightening along the sides of your neck. You’ve never been choked before, but that new stimulation drove you crazy. The slight almost-drunk dizziness from the asphyxiation only intensified every one of Jaehyun’s thrust. 

“Oh?” he panted out with amusement, “You like getting choked, don’t you?”

He watched as your eyes rolled back and how your face scrunched with pleasure under his touch. The constant stream of melody that was your voice devolved from words and pleas into incoherent mewls and moans. 

“You’re squeezing me so tight. Expected nothing less from my favourite slut.”

His hips moved with increasing impatience, as the both of you chased the highs of an orgasm. His grip on your neck only tightened, drawing small crescents into your skin. He grunted and groaned with less of the control he seemed to have. 

“You look so fucking beautiful,” he said and you doubted, with what little sanity remained within you. 

Your hair was completely messed up, from your constant squirming. The baby hair along your hairline had been stuck on your face with your sweat. You’re pretty certain your make-up - just a touch of eyeliner and nude lipstick - had all been smudged by sweat and tears. If anything, you’re sure you looked like a messed-up whore. 

Still, Jaehyun leaned down and connected your lips with fervour. His warm tongue darted quickly between your lips and danced with yours, sucking and twirling your tongue. His thrusts didn’t slow down, and instead continuously rammed into your sweet little spot. 

At this moment, you were completely intoxicated by his touches. He studied you well though, knowing that you were on the edge of your orgasm. 

“Aw, are you about to cum?” he said with mocking sympathy, “You’re gonna cum on a stranger’s dick?”

You felt your ears turn red at his questions. The shame and guilt all twisting into a strange pleasure. You weren’t used to this, but you craved it more. 

“I’ll allow it,” he said, “you look so pretty cumming. Cum for me, slut.” 

There’s a disconnect between his words, a sort-of whiplash. One moment he called you pretty, another he was completely condescending. And yet, you liked it. You liked being his little slut. You liked looking pretty for him. And most of all, you liked obeying him. 

That desire to obey, however, fell short of Jaehyun’s expectations. A twisted anger filling his eyes as his hand punished your neck with an even tighter grip - you were barely gasping for air at this point. 

“I said, cum for me,” he growled before spitting in your face. 

The warm spit against your cheek swirled with the hypnotising haze of being choked and gave you the push you need to slip into a mindblowing orgasm. Your entire body spasmed in pleasure as desperate moans left your lips. Your toes curled tight, and your fingers scratched the bedpost. The orgasm lasted a solid a few seconds, but the waves of oxytocin still washed over you as you basked in the afterglow, serving as minor orgasms. 

But Jaehyun wasn’t a man of patience, especially not when you laid under him, completely writhing with pleasure with a look of complete daze. Your still-spasming core squeezed his dick tight and coupled with a few sloppy thrusts were enough to send him into an orgasm as well. 

He moaned and stiffened, his orgasm translated into deep and impactful thrusts as he rode out his orgasm. Your body was at a complete subservience to his orgasm, with Jaehyun not caring about your verbal protests from the overstimulation nor the way your hips and legs were shaking.

It took him a few moments, before he came crashing down on the bed next to you panting. The lust-driven demon seemed to disappear at an instance as a sweet smile replaced his previous smirk. 

“Satisfied?” 

You nodded shyly. He helped you out of the makeshift knot, finally freeing you. Your wrists were left with red marks, to which he apologised with a dimpled smile. 

“It’s fine,” you assured him, “I… liked it.” 

After all, your wrists would be evidence of this experience. 

Later on, he was quick to attend to your every need - bringing you water, tissues to clean up, and a fresh set of bathrobes - and insisted that you sleep in the room, at least until the sun was up, promising to not touch you unless you wanted him to. You almost let yourself be deluded into thinking that this was anything but professionalism from a staff of Hotel Paradise.

In the morning, before you left for home, Jaehyun parted with words that would haunt you for the week to come. 

“I hope to see you again. I really do.” 

[slytherinslut0]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Sixteen-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, Jealousy, Angst, Possessive Behaviours, Syltherin!Boys, asshole!Berkshire, Kissing, Threats Of Violence, Weaponizing!TomRiddle, Dirty Talk.

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

As darkness shrouded the castle on the overly-anticipated Saturday evening, Tom guided you into the lively heart of the Slytherin common room, a space pulsating with carefree energy and laughter. Students adorned in their finest attire swirled around you, their faces flushed with excitement, their voices mingling in a chorus of revelry. The air crackled with the tang of burning embers, and the room was bathed in a warm, golden glow emanating from countless floating candles overhead.

Amidst the joyful chaos, Tom's friends sat at a secluded table, an oasis of calm amidst the storm. Their demeanor was poised, their laughter soft and controlled, setting them apart from the exuberant crowd. As you stepped closer, you felt like a solitary figure navigating the maze of social intricacies. Emily, who had promised to join you shortly, was notably absent, leaving you feeling like a fish out of water in this sea of unfamiliar faces.

Tom's hand in yours provided some semblance of comfort, grounding you in the midst of the lively chaos as he introduced you to each one of his friends individually. Every introduction was a meticulously choreographed ritual, marked by the graceful dip of heads and the soft rustle of silk against polished leather. Their smiles, though polite, held a hint of calculated charm, concealing a labyrinth of secrets beneath their composed exteriors.

In this enclave of refinement, Tom's circle stood apart from the rest of the common room. The casual revelry of the other Slytherins felt distant, their laughter and chatter forming a separate backdrop to the sophisticated symphony of Tom's world. The room seemed to bend to the will of this select group, accentuating the stark contrast between their cultivated refinement and the more carefree atmosphere of the rest of the room. Here, every gesture and word was carefully curated, preserving an aura of exclusivity. You could tell this was not something they did very often, so when they did, it was absolutely noticed--the rest of the room seemingly more tame in response, a stark comparison to the last party you had ventured in on.

This group represented everything you had ever dreamed of being a part of, all the aspirations you had ever hoped to achieve. Yet, your focus--or rather, your entire fucking mind--was elsewhere.

And the very reason it was elsewhere was seated amidst a circle of his elite friends-- Nott, Berkshire, Black, Zabini, and Malfoy, with Pansy Parkinson at his side--Mattheo's intense gaze bore into you from across the room. His dark eyes, like orbs of obsidian, were sharp and penetrating, dissecting the scene meticulously, and no matter what the fuck you tried to do, there was absolutely nothing that could distract you from the feeling of his gaze, burning flesh wounds into your skin with each passing second.

While his friends engaged in lively conversations, Mattheo's attention was solely fixated on you and Tom. His focus, both laser-sharp and predatory, traced every movement, every touch, every nuance of your interactions with his brother. The air around him crackled with an unspoken tension, his lips pressed into a thin line, a manifestation of the restrained emotions churning beneath his composed facade. It was as though he was dissecting the scene before him, his mind processing every detail with the precision of a master strategist, all while his dark eyes remained fixated on you, as though he was scared that he'd miss something if he looked away.

As the night bore on, you began to grow more comfortable amidst the sophisticated chatter--getting to know a few of Tom's friends fairly well, discussing ambitions and graduation plans without even being offered a single drink. You honestly thought things had been going well, almost far too fucking well--until Tom excused himself momentarily, his eyes meeting yours from the seat next to you as he prepared to make his exit.

"I need to handle something," he said, his voice low and confidential, his eyes flicking to his brother across the room, before returning to you. "I noticed Mattheo watching you...why don't you go say hi? I should only be a few moments, I'll join you when I'm finished."

"Oh, no-uh..." you hesitated, knowing that Berkshire was present, a fact you couldn't ignore. "I don't think it's a good idea, Tom, me and-" you began, attempting to voice your concerns, but he cut you off with a soft, reassuring kiss.

His lips pressed against yours, brief yet meaningful, before he pushed up from the table, leaving you in the midst of the party, alone.

As Tom's figure disappeared from view, you caught another glimpse of Mattheo from across the room, his gaze intensified, his stormy eyes ablaze with a potent mix of irritation and complete fucking fury--something you've seen in his eyes a few times before, but never like this. He sat slumped in the chair, his form swallowed by the shadows, his tousled curly hair falling over his forehead in disarray. The dim light caught the sheen of frustration on his sharp features, accentuating the hard lines of his jaw and the determined set of his mouth. His fingers tightened around his drink, the muscles in his hands flexing with the effort to suppress the simmering anger bubbling within him.

You knew him all too fucking well at this point to know that he was not bloody happy, and you weren't entirely confident that approaching him was at all the right move at this moment. Yet, you weren't sure what else you were supposed to do.

But before you could dwell any further, Blaise's eyes, a glimmering shade of obsidian, met yours from across the room. His lips curled into a playful smile, beckoning you over to his group with a subtle yet irresistible gesture. Despite your inner turmoil, the unavoidable feeling of dread pooling in your stomach, you excused yourself from the table and began to hesitantly make your way through the crowded room, every step feeling heavier as you approached the circle of Slytherin boys.

Mattheo's presence never relented, slouchily seated in the love seat, legs spread far too fucking wide, his intense gaze fixed on you. His eyes, like twin storm clouds, seemed to dissect every movement, scanning every inch of your body as you moved, as if he was searching for something hidden beneath your skin. It sent shivers down your spine, and you fought to maintain your semblance of composure.

As you drew closer, Berkshire, always the instigator, couldn't resist the opportunity to unleash his venomous tongue. "As if you're going to call her over here," he sneered, his dark eyes gleaming with malice. "Didn't know our circle was open to charity cases."

The rest of the Slytherin boys, visibly inebriated and riding the wave of arrogance, chimed in with smirks and condescending remarks, reveling in their camaraderie at your expense. It was a calculated display of power, a reminder that you were the outsider in this exclusive circle, a pawn in their powerful game.

Suppressing your frustration, you took a seat next to Blaise, your eyes darting briefly to Mattheo, who watched your every move with an intensity that sent your heart racing. The air crackled with tension, and you felt like a lamb surrounded by hungry wolves, each one waiting for the opportunity to pounce. Yet, amid the arrogance and hostility, Blaise's charm provided a temporary shield.

"Ignore them," he murmured, his voice a soothing melody amidst the discord. "They're always like this. Besides, you look stunning tonight, little raven. Don't let them get to you."

Despite Blaise's efforts to calm you down, to deescalate the situation as best as he could, Berkshire persisted, seemingly unable to control himself.

"I hear you're quite the favourite of the prodigy," he sneered, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Must be thrilling, being the chosen one for a night."

Malfoy, ever the arrogant asshole, added his own twist. "Or maybe she's just a distraction," he said, his tone conspiratorial. "You know how Tom likes to keep himself occupied, especially when the stakes are high."

You parted your lips to say something, to defend yourself in any sort of way, when another voice cut through the air, cutting you off before you could even attempt to force out a syllable.

"Tom's little plaything, isn't that right?" Regulus’ words were laced with arrogance, his voice like a low growl. "Who would have guessed."

Blaise shot Regulus a warning glance, his eyes urging him to rein in his hostility, but the damage was done. The room felt suffocating, the weight of their words pressing down on you, threatening to crush your resolve, and you couldn't hold your tongue any further--if they wanted to play with fire, you were going to make sure you were the one holding the matches.

A derisive chuckle escaped your lips as you assessed the Slytherins before you. "Jealousy, gentlemen, is a rather unflattering shade on anyone," you remarked, your gaze settling on Berkshire. "I'd refrain from it if I were you, Berkshire, you're already hard enough to look at as it is."

Berkshire's lips curled into a sneer, his arrogance on full display. "Well, well, we've got ourselves a little spitfire, haven't we?" he retorted, his voice dripping with condescension. "Someone really needs to fix that attitude of yours...perhaps I'll let Tom know, I'm sure he'd be more than willing to fuck it out of y-"

Mattheo's eyes turned icy, his rough voice slicing through the air like a blade of frost. "Berkshire, I suggest you keep your filthy mouth shut before someone decides to shut it for you," he said, his tone frigid and devoid of any warmth. "Let's start the fucking game, yeah?"

Mattheo's attempt to restrain his anger only made his words sharper, emphasizing the dangerous edge lurking beneath his composed exterior--Blaise, seemingly sensing the danger rolling over the horizon, nodded eagerly, shifting in his seat as he scanned around the circle.

"Absolutely, let's get on with it," he chimed in, his tone more playful now. He turned his attention to Nott, a sly grin forming on his lips. "Nott, truth or dare?"

Nott, appearing unfazed by the tension that had just unfolded, raised an eyebrow and smirked back at Blaise.

"Dare," he replied confidently, his demeanor cool and collected.

Blaise's grin widened. "I dare you to snog the next person who enters this common room."

Nott chuckled, seemingly unbothered by the challenge. "Piece of cake," he said, leaning back casually, his eyes scanning the room for potential targets.

You caught yourself smiling at his causality, but when you noticed a familiar blonde haired girl walking in, her eyes scanning the room as though she was looking for someone, your heart stalled.

Blaise's voice cut through the silence. "Hey, isn't that-"

"Yes." You said, raising a hand to wave her over as her sight finally landed on you. "It is..."

Emily hurried over, her eyes widening in curiosity as she settled into the seat next to you, giving you a small greeting. The room seemed to hold its breath as Theodore stood up, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Ah, perfect timing," Theodore said, his voice smooth and confident. "Emily, was it? Lovely name. I've been dared to kiss the next person who enters the room, so I must inquire, do you have a boyfriend, and would you be amenable to participating in this little game?"

Emily blinked in surprise, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Um, no boyfriend," she stammered, her gaze shifting nervously between Theodore and the expectant faces around her. "I guess...I mean, if it's just a game, sure, I guess that's fine."

The tension in the circle seemed to heighten as Theodore closed the distance between them, his eyes fixed on Emily's lips. The room fell silent, everyone holding their breath as he leaned in, his hand finding her chin, tilting her head back as his lips met hers in a brief, almost chaste kiss. The atmosphere crackled with a strange mixture of anticipation and awkwardness, your eyes meeting Mattheo's for a fleeting moment--one that felt as though it lasted forever, noticing his jaw tense and his eyes darken as he glimpsed your mouth, and then, as Theodore pulled away, a sly smirk played on his lips.

"There we go, a perfect dare fulfilled," he said as he reclaimed his seat, leaving Emily looking slightly dazed. "And that's how it's done, boys."

Theodore's triumphant tone hung in the air, echoing his satisfaction at successfully completing the dare. Emily, looking slightly embarrassed but surprisingly amused, exchanged a bewildered glance with you. It seemed like Theodore had a natural talent for both charm and mischief, a combination that made him rather unpredictable.

Blaise let out a low whistle, clearly impressed. "Well played, Nott," he said, his tone laced with a mix of amusement and approval. "I think we could all take some fucking notes."

Theodore's dark eyes sparkled with mischief as he turned his attention to Malfoy, who sat back, looking unfazed despite the intensity of the situation.

"Malfoy, truth or dare?" he asked, his voice dripping with calculated curiosity.

Malfoy, never one to back down from a challenge, arched an eyebrow. "Dare," he declared, his confidence unshaken.

"I dare you to serenade the group," Theodore proclaimed with an impish grin after a few moments of thought, his eyes flicking toward Pansy. "And Pansy here gets to pick the song."

You couldn't stifle the smile that crawled its way across your face as Malfoy's expressions dropped, Pansy sitting up straighter against the back of the couch as though she'd just been abruptly woken up from a slumber. As she pondered her thoughts for a moment, a sly smile crawled across her lips while she turned her attention to Malfoy.

"I heard this charming Muggle song recently. 'Can't Help Falling in Love' by Elvis Presley, do you know it?" When Malfoy groaned, reluctantly nodding, her grin widened. "Perfect. Sing it, Malfoy, let's see if you can capture the essence of a true romantic."

Malfoy, never one to shy away from a challenge, dropped the grumbling act and accepted the dare with a smirk. He stood up gracefully, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt with an air of confidence. The room fell into a hushed silence, anticipation hanging thick in the air.

With a deep breath, Malfoy launched into the Muggle love ballad, his voice slightly off-key but filled with an unexpected sincerity. Each word spilled out in an earnest attempt, and despite the imperfections, there was a genuine effort in his performance. The room was soon filled with laughter as Malfoy's melodramatic rendition took an unintentionally humorous turn.

His eyes, though, couldn't escape the challenge in Pansy's choice of song. As he sang, they occasionally flicked toward her, acknowledging the audacious choice. The laughter and amusement echoed around the room, mingling with the bittersweet undercurrent of emotions that danced in the air.

Amidst the laughter, Mattheo remained as serious as ever, his eyes continually locking onto you. For a brief moment, your gaze met his, and in that exchange, a torrent of memories flooded your mind--past moments shared in secret, a connection that had once felt unbreakable. The juxtaposition of Malfoy's performance and Mattheo's unwavering stare stirred something deep within you, a mixture of nostalgia, regret, and an unspoken longing that lingered in the pit of your stomach, leaving you both captivated and unsettled.

As his show finally came to an end, Malfoy took a bow, the circle erupting into a laughter-filled applause. As he returned to his seat, Pansy wore a satisfied grin, clearly happy with her choice, and Theodore looked especially pleased, reveling in the success of his dare.

"Quite impressive, Malfoy," Theodore remarked, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Your secret talents never cease to amaze us."

Malfoy simply shrugged, his usual arrogance back in place. "Naturally," he replied, the corners of his lips quirking up in a subtle smile. "Now, who's next? How about you, Ravenclaw, truth or dare?"

You felt a sudden knot tighten in your stomach as Malfoy turned his attention toward you, his silver eyes sharp and calculating. The weight of the room seemed to press down on your shoulders as the spotlight shifted onto you. A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, each more precarious than the last. Truth might lead to questions about Tom or Mattheo, both topics you desperately wanted to avoid.

So, with a forced nonchalance that barely masked your anxiety, you replied, "Dare."

You hoped against hope that the dare he gave you wouldn't plunge you into deeper waters, although the mischievous glint in Malfoy's eyes suggested he had something particularly devious in mind--and of course, you most definitely were fucking right.

"I dare you to go into the broom closet with Berkshire for fifteen minutes."

Your eyebrows shot up in disbelief at Malfoy's audacious dare, your voice laced with incredulity.

"Are you completely mental?" you scoffed, glancing at Berkshire, who seemed equally stunned. "There's no way I'm voluntarily locking myself in a broom closet with him for fifteen minutes. We will undoubtedly end up tearing each other's heads off."

Berkshire, never one to miss an opportunity to mock, chimed in, "Yeah, I'm not signing up for a murder-suicide pact tonight, thanks."

"What's the matter, Raven? Afraid of a little close quarters?" Malfoy, clearly enjoying your discomfort, taunted, "you two certainly have no problems running your mouths at each other in public. I think a little private meeting might be good for you."

You clenched your fists, trying to rein in your irritation. "I promise you, I'm not afraid...I'd just prefer not to be expelled a few months from graduation."

"Fine, fine...you're a bloody baby," Malfoy retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Since you're so picky, how about Mattheo instead. He's not scared of a little closet, are you, Riddle?"

Your eyes darted to Mattheo, his expression stoic, but a flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes. The room seemed to tighten around you, a sense of foreboding settling in your bones as Mattheo's jaw clenched visibly, his eyes glittering with concealed anger as he put down his cup and stood up. The tension in the room grew palpable, the air thick with unspoken hostility. His voice was low and steady, cutting through the silence like a knife.

"Fifteen minutes," he said curtly, his gaze fixed on the broom closet. "Knock when it's up."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you met his determined stare. There was a whirlpool of something in his eyes, something you couldn't quite decipher--anger, frustration, or maybe something entirely different. As he gestured toward the closet, you felt a shiver run down your spine, a mix of apprehension and anticipation.

With a deep breath, you stood up, your eyes never leaving his. You walked toward the closet, trying to ignore the weight of his gaze on your back. The door creaked open, and you both stepped inside, the darkness enveloping you as it closed shut behind you with a soft click. Inside the closet, the air was close, your breaths mingling in the confined space as you stood facing each other with hardly enough room to turn around if you tried to.

The seconds stretched into eternity as you waited, the tension between you almost suffocating. It was a daring game, one neither of you had expected to play, and now you were trapped together, the world outside the closet slipping away into nothingness, the tense energy in the room vibrating through your bones as the  silence grew to be unbearable, neither of you daring to speak.

Finally, Mattheo spoke, his voice rough like gravel underfoot, breaking the silence like a crack of thunder in the night. "You let him kiss you."

His words weren't a question, but weren't really a statement either--it was as though he was repeating something, reading something off a sheet of paper, trying to make sense of it, each syllable carrying a weight of disbelief, as if he was grappling with a reality he couldn't quite accept. Your pulse increased, your lungs stalling, his tone laced with something you couldn't quite place--accusation, curiosity, or maybe a hint of vulnerability.

"Yes," your throat felt tight as you admitted your actions. "I did."

It was a confession, a truth you couldn't deny, even if you wanted to. The darkness seemed to amplify the weight of your words, and you could almost feel Mattheo's gaze piercing through the shadows, seeking answers. And even though you could hardly see Mattheo's face in the darkness of the closet, you could smell the hint of alcohol radiating off of him, not as strong as it usually was, but still enough to make your head spin. Mattheo's breath, warm and laced with the remnants of the party, washed over your face. His next question sliced through the air, sharp and accusatory.

"Why?" he demanded, his voice a low growl, echoing with frustration and confusion. "You said you don't-"

"I don't." You cut him off, already knowing exactly what he was going to say. "Not at fucking all."

The words spilled out, tinged with defiance, but beneath that was a current of vulnerability. You knew the truth of your feelings, but convincing Mattheo seemed like an insurmountable task in the darkness.

"Then why?" he pressed again, his tone more insistent, as though he needed you to unravel this mystery for him. "You're playing him...you're playing him like a fucking flute, yeah?"

His accusation hung in the air, a challenge, a plea for an explanation that made sense of the tangled web of emotions between you, and for some reason, all it did was further your anger.

"Does that bother you, Riddle?" you hissed, your voice cutting through the darkness like a blade. You shifted your weight, locking eyes with him, your gaze narrowed and intense. "Did you think you were the only one capable of playing games? Or maybe you think it’s only okay when you do it?"

The words carried a raw edge, a blend of defiance and accusation, challenging him to confront his own actions and hypocrisy. Mattheo's throat worked as he swallowed, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

"Raven, you're playing with fire-" he began, his voice a low warning.

"Don't even go there," you cut him off, your words dripping with venom. "I am the shape you made me, Mattheo...filth teaches filth..."

Your voice trailed off, the darkness of the closet adding weight to your words. You tilted your head, catching a glimpse of his parted lips and furrowed brows, a mix of frustration and barely-restrained anger etched on his features.

"And even still," you continued, your tone biting, "I could only dream to be as skilled at it as you are."

Mattheo's jaw tightened, his eyes flickering with an emotion you couldn't quite place, as your words hung in the air like a heavy fog. The anger and dread that had gripped you moments ago seemed to dissipate, replaced by an almost palpable tension. His energy shifted, seeping out of the closet through the cracks in the door, leaving a lingering, painstaking atmosphere in its wake.

You stood there, anxiety coiling in your chest, completely unaware of how close the two of you were until this very moment. His presence loomed over you, a silent force that you couldn't escape, and yet, a part of you didn't want to. His chest rose and fell with each intense breath, the confined space amplifying the weight of his proximity. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and even if there were, you found yourself rooted to the spot, knowing that not even a fucking fire could force you to move.

"I haven't stopped thinking about you, either." He whispered.

You paused. “You-“

"You haven’t left my mind…not even once." His words hung in the air like a sinful confession, catching you completely off guard. “Do you know how fucking annoying that is, Raven? Having to act like you’re not haunting me at all seconds of the fucking day?”

Utter shock seized you, your body tensing involuntarily. You stared at his face, desperately searching for any signs of deceit, but found none.

“The mind works in funny ways,” he said. “Memory…memory taps a fucking gun to your skull and demands you bring back the dead…meanwhile, the dead is out kissing my fucking brother in front of me…”

His gaze bored into yours, raw and unguarded, leaving you utterly defenseless against the truth he laid bare.

“I know we called things off, I know I used you in the beginning, I know I was a fucking asshole to you, and I’m…I’m fucking sorry..." his body seemed to vibrate with restrained emotion, his fists clenched at his sides, as though he was waging a war within his mind. "There’s so many girls out there, Raven...so fucking many that I could distract myself with, but it would do nothing...it's your body, it's your fucking pussy on my mind..."

Each word hung between you, heavy and charged with unspoken longing, you couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move. "Matt-"

Mattheo stepped forward, his presence overwhelming, his chest almost brushing against yours but not quite daring to touch. The tension between you crackled in the air, your every nerve on edge. His eyes, dark and searching, drilled into yours, seeking answers to questions you weren't sure you were ready to confront.

"Were you thinking of me?" His voice was a low rumble, an undercurrent of intensity underscoring his words. "When you're with him...every time you close your eyes, who do you see?"

Your breath caught in your throat, your fingers trembling at your sides. The room seemed to spin, the air growing thin as your lungs struggled to draw in oxygen.

"You." The word escaped your lips, a fragile admission that hung between you, heavy with the weight of truth. "Always, always you."

Mattheo exhaled, his breath rushing out like a dam breaking, as though he had been holding it in, afraid of your response. His lips parted, wetted by a tongue that seemed to have forgotten how to form words.

"That's right..." he murmured, his voice barely audible over the racing of your hearts. "You know I'm your best-kept secret, Raven...why don't you show me like you know and believe it..."

His words lingered in the charged atmosphere, a challenge and a plea, leaving you suspended in the moment, torn between the past and the present, between what was and what could be.

Your voice wavered with a mix of concern and disbelief. "You're drunk, aren't you, Mattheo..."

"I'm not drunk." His reply was swift, like a crack of lightning. "I've barely had one fucking drink, I'm as sober as I've ever been...and even if I hadn't quit all that shit, there'd be no way I could drink tonight anyways."

Your breath hitched, your eyes locked onto his, searching for any sign that this was some kind of sick joke. "Why?"

Mattheo emitted a low chuckle, but it lacked any warmth, carrying a sinister edge that sent shivers down your spine. "Because, if I was drunk, I wouldn't have been able to control myself...I would have knocked my own brother out fifty fucking times over without even a second thought…not a fucking soul in that room would have been able to stop me..."

His words hung heavy in the air, an ominous promise that draped over you like a suffocating cloak, leaving you with a chilling realization that the tangled web of your past was far from unraveling.

"You fucking ruin me, Raven..." his voice was a low, guttural whisper, dark and haunting, sending a shudder through your limbs. "That stare...it makes me fucking want things..."

Your eyes widened, his words wrapping around you like a vice, constricting your thoughts.

"Things...like what?" you managed to breathe out, your voice barely audible.

Mattheo ran a trembling hand through his tousled hair, the veins in his hands standing out in stark relief, a silent testament to the intensity of his emotions. His eyes, usually so sharp and controlled, were now clouded with a raw, primal desire, a longing that had been hidden for far too long.

"Things like my fist in your hair and my cock in that pretty fucking mouth..." he growled, his voice cracking with the weight of his desire. "Things like bending you over in the middle of that party just to show every asshole out there who you belong to..."

Your mind was a whirlwind, thoughts spinning out of control, unable to comprehend anything except the burning desire that consumed you.

"Holy fuck..." the words escaped your lips in a breathless whisper, a testament to the overwhelming intensity of the moment. "Mattheo, I...."

Mattheo's eyes, darker than you'd ever seen them, searched yours desperately. "Can I touch you, Raven?" he pleaded, his voice a raw, heartfelt plea. "Please, let me fucking touch you."

In response, you barely managed to nod, your throat tight with anticipation. And then, his lips crashed onto yours with a fervor that made up for all the lost time, all the weeks of distance and silence. His kiss was passionate, demanding, a fiery reunion of lips and souls that ignited a wildfire between you two. His hands, warm and possessive, found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, sealing the gap that had kept you apart for far too long.

In that moment, every wall you had built around your heart crumbled, the fragments falling away like ash in the wind. You surrendered to the storm that was Mattheo Riddle, his touch setting your skin ablaze, his kiss a tempest that swept you off your feet. He was your drug, your haunting addiction, an irresistible pull that defied reason and logic. No matter how far you tried to run, no matter the crazy measures you took to stay away, you always found yourself right back where you started--entangled in his arms, lost in the intoxicating whirlwind of his presence.

Mattheo broke the kiss, his hands gripping you as if he feared you might vanish into thin air. His lips trailed down to your jawline, his voice a low, gravelly murmur against your skin. "I can taste your fucking pain, Raven...is that because of me?"

You nodded, your voice catching in your throat. "Yes," you admitted, your vulnerability laid bare before him. "Having experienced both, I'm not sure what hurts more...intense feeling, or the absence of it..."

"The absence...without a fucking doubt," he whispered, his touch on your skin sending electric sparks through your veins. His presence felt overwhelming, his breath warm against your neck in the dimness of the closet. "I know he's good for you...I know he's every fucking thing that you need...but I-"

"No." Your hands tightened around his neck, nails digging into his skin. "He could be fucking everything and more...he's just...he's not you."

Mattheo's teeth grazed your earlobe, a shiver running down your spine as your words spun in the silence between your bodies. Your hands found his hair, fingers threading through the dark curls, holding onto him as if he were your lifeline in the midst of a storm.

"Better men could have you, Raven...I won’t deny that," he admitted, his voice a husky murmur against your skin. "But they'll have to get through me, now...I will leave such a fucking imprint on your soul that anyone you entertain after me will have to physically know me in order to fucking attempt to understand you..."

His declaration felt like a promise, an unspoken commitment that bound you to him in a way that transcended mere words. In that moment, you realized that you were not just giving in to desire; you were surrendering to something far more profound and all-encompassing. Mattheo wasn't just another flame to be extinguished; he was a wildfire, consuming everything in its path, leaving behind scorched earth and a desire that defied reason.

You pulled him closer, sealing the unspoken pact with a fervent kiss, letting the intensity of your emotions guide your actions. In that dim closet, amidst the whispers of Slytherin secrets and the echoes of your tangled past, you found solace in Mattheo's arms, embracing the chaos that came with wanting someone you shouldn't, knowing that in the end, the heart wants what it wants, regardless of the consequences.

The air in the closet felt charged with a potent blend of desire and desperation as you pulled away, gasping for air. The intensity of the moment coursed through your veins, leaving you breathless and exhilarated. Your eyes locked onto Mattheo's, your voice raw and unsteady, yet laced with conviction.

"You might be bad…so fucking bad for me, Mattheo," you whispered, your words hanging in the small space between you, "but I fucking want you...there's no one else..."

“Fucking hell, Raven…” Mattheo let out a low, guttural groan, his hand slithering up to grip your face gently, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. His stormy eyes bore into yours, his voice a gravelly murmur, carrying the weight of his emotions. “You’re my little devil, aren’t you?”

You smirked. “Yes…I am…”

"I'm in deep, baby," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours, his breath warm and sweet. "Merlin knows we both feel it...you hold my fucking fate, so seal it…”

With those words, you closed the distance between you yet again, capturing his lips in a searing kiss, his hands slithering down to grip your backside with enough force to make you groan into his mouth. And just as things began escalating, just as your hands were trailing their way down the front of his body, reaching for his belt, there was a knock at the door.

"Fifteens up."

————————

Find seventeen->

[skywalker1dream]

Obsession in Overdrive

Jenson Button x journalist!reader

note: so I was writing part 2 of web of obsession and I accidentally deleted it, I really don't know how I did it (I want to bang my head to something like dobby banged his head with lamp)

Summary:You are a dedicated and ambitious journalist covering the world of Formula 1. Your latest assignment brings you face-to-face with Jenson Button, a charismatic and skilled driver. However, beneath his charming exterior lies a dark and obsessive personality. As Jenson becomes fixated on you, what starts as innocent professional admiration quickly spirals into a dangerous obsession, leading you into a web of passion, control, and peril. (you will find out that in part two)

Warnings: Im not good with warnings T_T sorry....

--

The roar of engines and the scent of burning rubber filled the air, the unmistakable ambiance of a Grand Prix weekend. You adjusted your press pass, the laminated card dangling from a lanyard around your neck. This assignment was a dream come true covering the world of Formula 1, where speed and glamour intertwined.

The paddock was alive with activity. Engineers tweaked car settings, team members rushed about with tools and equipment, and the drivers, the stars of this high-octane circus, moved with an air of focused determination. You had been following the sport for years, but being here, amidst the chaos and excitement, was a different experience altogether.

You were here for one reason: an exclusive interview with Jenson Button, the seasoned driver known not just for his skill on the track, but for his charm and charisma off it. He was a favorite among fans and media alike, and getting time with him was a coup for any journalist.

You arrived at the McLaren team’s hospitality suite, a sleek and modern area buzzing with activity. The room was filled with a mix of team personnel, sponsors, and a few journalists, all engaged in animated conversation. The decor was elegant but functional, with the team’s colors prominently displayed.

You spotted Jenson almost immediately. He was deep in conversation with a team engineer, but as soon as he saw you, his face lit up with a smile. He excused himself and walked over, his stride confident and relaxed.

“Ah, you must be [your name]” he greeted, extending a hand. His grip was firm yet gentle, his touch lingering a fraction longer than necessary.

“Yes, thank you for taking the time to speak with me,” you replied, trying to maintain your professional demeanor despite the fluttering in your stomach. He was even more handsome in person, his blue eyes sparkling with a mix of intelligence and mischief.

“Anything for a lovely journalist,” he said, his tone smooth as silk. “Shall we?”

He led you to a quieter corner of the suite, where a small table and two chairs had been set up for the interview. As you settled into your seat, you couldn’t help but notice how his presence seemed to command the space around him. He was effortlessly charming, his smile warm and inviting.

The interview began with the usual pleasantries. Jenson answered your questions with ease, his responses peppered with humor and insight. He spoke about his passion for racing, the challenges of the season, and his hopes for the future. His answers were thoughtful and articulate, revealing a depth of character that went beyond his public persona.

Yet, as the conversation progressed, you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze lingered on you, as if he were trying to memorize every detail of your face. His eyes would occasionally flicker down to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

You shifted in your seat, trying to maintain your composure. This was just another interview, you told yourself, albeit with one of the most charming men you’d ever met. But there was something about the way he looked at you that made your pulse quicken.

“So, [your name],” Jenson said, leaning forward slightly, “what got you into journalism? And more specifically, why Formula 1?”

You smiled, appreciating his genuine interest. “I’ve always loved writing, and I’ve been a fan of motorsports since I was a kid. There’s something about the combination of speed, skill, and strategy that fascinates me. Plus, the stories behind the drivers and teams are incredibly compelling.”

Jenson nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. “It’s true, there’s a lot more to this sport than just racing. The dedication, the sacrifices... it’s a whole world unto itself.”

You continued talking, sharing stories and laughing together. Despite the professional nature of the interview, it felt more like a conversation between friends. Jenson had a way of making you feel at ease, his genuine interest and warm demeanor drawing you in.

As the interview came to an end, you thanked Jenson and began to gather your things. “This was great, Jenson. Thank you so much for your time.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” he replied, standing up and extending his hand once more. “I hope we get to do this again soon.”

His hand was warm around yours, and as he held your gaze, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of something more than professional admiration. You quickly pushed the thought aside, reminding yourself of your role and responsibilities.

“Take care, love,” Jenson said, his smile lingering as he watched you leave.

As you walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that your encounter with Jenson Button was just the beginning of something much more complex and intense than a simple interview.

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

Later that evening, you returned to your hotel room, still buzzing from the excitement of the day. You had a lot of work to do transcribing the interview, writing up your notes, and preparing your article. But before you could get started, a knock at the door interrupted your thoughts.

You opened it to find a hotel staff member holding a small, beautifully wrapped box. “Miss [your name] this was left for you at the front desk.”

Surprised, you took the box and thanked him. As you closed the door, curiosity got the better of you. You carefully unwrapped the package, revealing a delicate silver bracelet with a charm in the shape of a racing car. It was exquisite, and clearly expensive.

There was a card inside, written in elegant script: “A token of appreciation. – Jenson.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It was a thoughtful gift, but also oddly personal for someone you’d just met. You slipped the bracelet onto your wrist, admiring how it caught the light. It was beautiful, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that it meant something more.

Pushing aside your unease, you sat down at your laptop and began to write. Yet, as you worked, your thoughts kept drifting back toJenson his smile, his charm, and the intensity in his eyes. This was supposed to be just another assignment, but you had a feeling that it was going to be anything but ordinary.

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

Over the next few weeks, you found yourself running into Jenson more frequently. At first, it seemed like coincidence, he’d be at the coffee shop you frequented, or passing by the media center just as you were leaving. Each time, he’d greet you warmly, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you.

“You again,” you joked one afternoon, unable to hide your smile. “Are you following me, Mr. Button?”

He chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. “Just lucky, I guess. Besides, I enjoy our little chats.”

His attention was flattering, and you couldn’t deny the growing attraction. Yet, beneath the surface, there was something unsettling about his constant presence. It was as if he always knew where you’d be.

One evening, as you left the paddock, you found Jenson waiting by your car. “Let me take you to dinner,” he offered, his tone more commanding than requesting.

“I appreciate the offer, but I have a lot of work to do,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

His smile faltered, a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “Another time then,” he said, but his tone suggested it wasn’t really a question.

_______

The next morning, you received a text from an unknown number: Good morning, [your name]. Hope you have a great day. – Jenson. (-sent from my iphoen) (iykyk)

You stared at the message, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. You hadn’t given him your number, which meant he must have gone out of his way to get it. Part of you was flattered by his persistence, but another part couldn’t shake the feeling of discomfort.

As the days passed, Jenson’s presence in your life grew. He sent you flowers, left small gifts at your hotel, and always seemed to be around. It was becoming harder to focus on your work with him constantly on your mind.

During a press conference, you caught Jenson’s eye from across the room. He was surrounded by reporters, but his gaze was fixed on you. He smiled, a knowing look in his eyes that made your heart race. After the conference, he made his way over to you.

“Can I steal you away for a bit?” he asked, his voice low and intimate.

You hesitated, glancing around at your colleagues who were busy typing up their notes. “I really should finish my article.”

“It’ll only take a minute,” he promised, his hand gently guiding you towards a more secluded area. “I wanted to give you something.”

From his pocket, he pulled out a small, wrapped box. “Another gift?” you asked, your voice tinged with both curiosity and caution.

“Just a little something to remind you of me,” he said with a smile.

You unwrapped the box to find a delicate necklace with a pendant shaped like a steering wheel. It was beautiful, but the personal nature of the gift sent a shiver down your spine.

“Jenson, this is lovely, but you really don’t have to keep giving me things,” you said, trying to sound gracious.

“I want to,” he insisted, his eyes intense. “You’re special, love. I feel a connection with you.”

His words made your heart flutter, but also triggered a warning bell in your mind. “Thank you, Jenson. I appreciate it, really. But I.....I have to get back to work now.”

He nodded, but the look in his eyes told you he wasn’t giving up. As you walked away, you felt his gaze lingering on you, a constant, almost tangible presence.

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

Later that week, you were sitting in your hotel room, working on your latest article, when your phone buzzed. It was a call from Jenson. You hesitated for a moment before answering.

“Hello?”

“[your name], I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said, his voice smooth and reassuring.

“Not at all. What’s up?”

“I was thinking we could have dinner tonight. There’s a great restaurant not far from your hotel.”

You bit your lip, considering his offer. Part of you wanted to say yes, to enjoy an evening with this captivating man. But another part of you was wary of how quickly things were progressing.

“I don’t know, Jenson. I have a lot of work to do.”

“Come on, just one dinner,” he coaxed. “You have to eat, right? Consider it a break.”

His persistence was hard to resist, and before you knew it, you found yourself agreeing. “Okay, fine. One dinner.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said, a note of triumph in his voice.

That evening, Jenson arrived at your hotel right on time. He looked impeccable, dressed in a tailored suit that accentuated his athletic build. As you walked to the restaurant, he kept the conversation light and engaging, his charm easing some of your apprehension.

The restaurant was elegant and intimate, with soft lighting and a view of the city skyline. Jenson had reserved a private table, away from prying eyes. As you sat down, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Throughout dinner, Jenson was the perfect gentleman. He listened attentively as you talked about your career and passions, sharing stories from his own life that made you laugh and feel at ease. Yet, beneath his charm, there was an intensity in his gaze that made your heart race.

[son-of-rap-bear-art]

So, do y'all remember the Adventure Time Mash-Up Pack for Minecraft back in like, 2017? Me and some friends have been messing around with that map lately and revamping some of the areas we consider a bit lacking with creative mode, and for me that was the Treehouse! I got ~100 reference pics from various episodes and tried to put it all together into the most autistically accurate Treehouse I could, and I wanna share it here cause I'm really proud of it!

Feel free to skip the text and just look at the pretty pictures. Cause when I say "autistically accurate" I MEAN IT. It's MY blog and I get to choose the special interest. :p

The exterior is mostly unchanged from the official map, but I added the orange tree from My Two Favorite People, and the pond. Also the log where Finn sits and thinks in Gotcha!

Yes, I will be mentioning specific episodes like this often.

I didn't make the Grotto, because I'm not THAT crazy, but I did make the pond really deep and filled it with the sort of things you see when Finn swims down there in Beyond the Grotto.

The first thing you see when you actually go inside is the treasure room, of course! The official map's treasure room is so small and sad, but I made it more accurate to how it looks in the show, with a ton of ladders and platforms going upwards until you get to the kitchen.

Speaking of, at this point I should show the layout I based the rooms' positions on...

I put this together myself and I THINK it's the most consistently accurate layout... of course, it's a cartoon, sometimes you'll get stuff like the bathroom in the left branch for the sake of a gag in Dentist, and characters will frequently run offscreen and then teleport to another room, BUT this is what I observed to be the most common layout seen when the camera will actually follow the characters through doors and ladders and etc.

Interestingly, the ladder in the trunk actually seems to connect to the kitchen, which is HIGHER than the living room, and then you have to go down a separate ladder to get to the living room. Confusing! But it checks out.

So yeah, climbing up past the treasure room takes you right to the kitchen! Some specific details to call out here are: - The picture of PB with the two spatulas is from Abstract, and I painted it myself in-game via a mod! Unfortunately I didn't get around to other paintings yet, they're a bit annoying to make. - The urn supposedly containing Margaret's ashes, from Conquest of Cuteness, is on one of the shelves. - There isn't a single torch in this whole build! It's carefully lit up with candles, just like the Treehouse should be! - There's actually this easily missable tiny room connected to the kitchen, seen in the last pic, that has another trapdoor and also the door to the bathroom. I believe that first shows up in Incendium and then stays around forever. - The cooler is entirely full of eggs, like how Finn exclusively buys pre-boiled eggs when grocery shopping without Jake, in Temple of Mars.

The bathroom! Funnily enough, the bathroom might be the least consistent room in the whole Treehouse. It's just made up of a toilet, bathtub, and sink, but these three things shuffle around the room entirely at random from episode to episode. In this sort of situation, I consider the most accurate way to handle it to be the same as the show: just put them wherever! So I did that.

That door in the kitchen leads to this room, connected by a bridge. I just called it the "bucket room" because it has a bucket that Finn and Jake ride in in Rainy Day Daydream, although that episode has a pretty wacky Treehouse in general.

I hooked up a hand crank with the Create mod, so you can use it like an elevator kinda.

Down the other ladder in the kitchen gets you to, the living room! This room's just a small round circle in some episodes, but others have it a bit bigger.

That bookshelf is there in Jake Suit, and has Dream Journal of a Boring Man, Vol 12 on it. Since one of the decor mods I'm using lets me place down books, I copied the 3 excerpts we get to see from it down into a written book, so it's even actually there!

A really inconsistent aspect of the living room is this weird platform with a door. I can only remember it appearing in In Your Footsteps and Three Buckets, but maybe I've just always missed it? I made it lead back into the trunk, so you can use it as a shortcut up to the kitchen.

Also over here is this workbench, which to my knowledge suddenly shows up in season 8 and becomes a REALLY REALLY consistent part of the living room?? Seriously, it's in Two Swords, Horse and Ball, Abstract... It's suddenly all over the place!! But I genuinely can't recall it existing before that. Am I crazy or is this an actual thing?

Anyway, connected by bridge to the living room is the den! Surprisingly, even though it barely even shows up in any episodes, the den is SUPER messy and lived in. I tried to reflect this by jamming as many decorative blocks as I could in there.

Also for some reason this fireplace doubles as a pizza oven in Abstract? Yeah, Abstract's got a really silly Treehouse. But it was easy enough to slot in there, so I did!

Way back to the kitchen and upwards: the bedroom! I always thought the bedroom was so tiny and cramped, but a good few episodes actually show it as pretty spacious! I tried to hit a good balance.

The pictures hung up around Finn's bed are a blurry, badly taken picture of Huntress Wizard, and a clearly old picture of Flame Princess. They're both cute choices for Finn's future, and are my girlfriends' respective favorite characters, so I included both :D

I also included the attic, which as far I know ONLY appears in Dad's Dungeon. I think it's neat, though, so I put it here. It'll be nice for survival mode storage.

If you exit through the attic, you can get to the cloud that Finn and Jake have tied down for its rainwater. The dripstone on the underside looks a bit ugly, but it makes it functional! If you scoop water out of any of the cauldrons with a bucket, it'll slowly refill with water from the cloud!

We're nearing the end! Here's a back shot of things. I added the power lines, Neptr's cave, and the farm. For some reason, Holly Jolly Secrets has a second, distinct set of powerlines, but those would be ugly so I didn't include them.

Lastly, the chicken coop, as seen in BMO Noire and mentioned in Three Buckets, featuring Lorraine. Who looks like Boobafina in this texture pack, which is silly.

I'm... honestly not very satisfied with the coop's placement, as BMO Noire shows it being out on a rarely-seen branch, but this is the best I could do without a major facelift on the tree itself.

So, yeah! That's the image limit. There's a good few extra details scattered around here and there, but I'll leave it at that. I hope this is as fun to read as it was for me to write :D

[coastalcowplant]

Lucas “Luca” Palladio for Penny’s BC by @bunnithechubs

“Designing dreams is my business. Will you be my next masterpiece?”

traits: self-absorbed, creative, ambitious

aspiration: serial romantic

career: luxury architect & designer

Lucas specializes in designing exclusive, high-end homes and spaces for elite clients, blending architecture with bespoke interior design. Known for his meticulous attention to detail and ability to bring a client’s most ambitious dreams to life, he’s built a reputation in elite circles. He’s worked with celebrities, CEOs, and international clients, making him a sought-after name in luxury architecture.

A recent breakup with model, Dina Caliente, shook him, though he’ll never admit it. It made him realize that, beneath his flashy exterior, he craves something real but doesn’t know how to get it. He’s entering the bachelor contest for Penny partly to show off but also because he sees her as someone who could challenge him and help him break out of his shallow patterns.

Read more about Luca’s backstory/personality below:

Backstory | Lucas “Luca” Palladio is a luxury architect with roots deeply planted in two cultures. His father, a successful diplomat from Tartosa, instilled in him a love for artistry and elegance, while his mother, an interior designer from Mt. Komorebi, introduced him to the principles of harmony and balance in design.

Luca grew up in a family where success and appearances meant everything. He was raised to believe that image and charm could get him anywhere, and it has—sort of. He’s charming, well-dressed, and knows how to work a crowd, but despite his success, Luca feels a void that material wealth can’t fill, though you won’t catch him admitting it.

Personality | Luca is charming, but he can be controlling and has a tendency to get possessive when things don’t go his way. He’s used to getting what he wants and has a bit of a temper, though he’s careful to hide it in public. Deep down, he’s vulnerable, carrying insecurities he masks with bravado. He feels pressured to keep up his polished image.

His work demands a high degree of control and precision, which bleeds into his personal life. Luca has a clear vision of how things should be, and he struggles when things don’t align with his expectations. He sometimes sees relationships as projects that need to meet his standards, which could lead to possessive or controlling tendencies. However, his career also hints at a hidden vulnerability: behind the polished exterior, he’s terrified of things falling apart, as failure is something he can’t easily handle.

Although he can be overbearing, Luca is also driven by a genuine desire to create beauty and leave a mark on the world. Deep down, he wants to be valued for who he is, not just what he creates, even if he’s unsure how to show that vulnerability. If he can learn to let go of his rigid expectations and trust in others, there’s potential for him to become a more genuine and supportive partner.

Gallery ID | briannaasims Lucas is on the gallery under households (cc used)

[thetallowman]

Alright. I need to ramble out a monologue about Hanno of Arwad, and how's he actually really interesting, thematically. (To finally cross him off the list of characters I have Thoughts about, if nothing else.)

When Hanno first shows up in Guide, it seems all but assured that he's going to end up an antagonist. He's in a band with the Bard (who has something bigger going on, even if the larger details aren't yet clear), he's got Chekhov's Training Montage as a backstory superpower (similar to the what William got in Arcadia), and his unique gimmick is flipping a coin (exclusively a villain move in other media). He seems set up to be be Cat's new heroic rival, and Black theorizes his Aspects were designed to counter her. Even their mottos clash: "I do not judge," vs. "Justifications only matter to the just."

Textually, Hanno seems like a threat because he's working for a Choir of angels, the same creatures that doomed William and tried to flip Cat. And this is a fair assumption - the Choir of Judgement (not Justice, notably) are a bunch of monsters that call tails on every coin flip in the series and are explicitly willing to kill the majority of the continent. It's easy to see Hanno in the role of headsman for a corrupt authority.

Meta-textually, Hanno resembles a certain other type of character often found in other media - the asshole paladin. It's a common archetype in villain-oriented stories, serving as an easy reversal of the normal dynamic while still allowing the protagonists to be reactive, since paladins are known for going out and finding evil to stab, rather than waiting it to come to them. (Notably, in these stories the shiny exterior usually hides a core of hate or stupidity; a holier-than-thou enemy is significantly less satisfying to defeat if they actually are holier than thou.) William seems to fit into this role - and the Exiled Prince definitely does, with his pomp and sanctimony and enchanted armor - but Hanno doesn't, and I think that's why he ends up being such an interesting character. Partially it's a matter of humility - Hanno's whole origin story revolves around the fallibility of mortal judgement, particularly his own - but there's a smaller-scale thing as well.

Specifically, I think Hanno's Two Face imitation is in direct conversation with DnD's Detect Evil and similar abilities. It's basically the same thing - point to somebody and ask your god if you should kill them - and it has basically the same problems. It's simultaneously an arbitrary excuse for murder, the ultimate appeal to (divine, unaccountable) authority, and an easy metaphor for any number of injustices. There are significant problems with a system where you can chop someone's head off on the grounds of "Voices said so, just trust me." (Note that the two characters Hanno clashes most with, Anaxares and Cordelia, both uphold the sanctity of mortal law.)

What makes Hanno different isn't when or how he flips the coin - but when he doesn't. He never flips the coin for anyone he isn't already intending to kill. His bandmates, inconvenient rulers, even an ex-villain like the Repentant Magister - none of them are put to the test. He uses it not as a means of discovering and slaying the guilty, but as a safeguard against accidentally slaying the innocent. He's ultimately still choosing what actions need to be stopped, and who to refer on for Judgement. And it's this baseline, when the Choir goes silent and the finale draws near, that allows him to come full circle and choose to do his best, even if his best is imperfect.

And I think that's really cool.

[dearestcherry]

oc smash or pass: cerise cephinne

rules: pretty self explanatory. include physical descriptions or pics, and propaganda. the “other” label can be used for “sexuality misalignment” (ie: oc is femme and you’re gay, vice versa or you aren’t into smashing but a specific thing you wanna do with them like perhaps hug or study them under a microscope idc).

stolen from others because i've been really enjoying this prompt, so i won't tag anyone and rather encourage anyone else to post if they're interested. consider this a tag if you wish! encouraged by @iron-sparrow, thank you!

quick facts

height: 6'10"/209cm.

age: 35.

gender: trans man.

pronouns: he/him.

sexuality: gay man. especially comfortable with other trans men.

pros

very tall, with a bit of extra body fat that makes him soft. smells sweet, like berries and herbs.

protective, loving at heart, and will care for people. cerise lets others stay at his place, gives them some of his food, and offers medicine for comfort, even if it's all he has.

a free spirit, he doesn't seem to align himself with many restrictive beliefs, and encourages others to do so as well.

cerise loves travelling to acquire materials for his business. fun date idea.

he isn't picky when it comes to food, and fully enjoys the scraps that the brume has to offer. poor quality alcohol? no problem! his low standards mean he's easily impressed.

incredibly good at keeping secrets. cerise is full of secrets himself, he knows to keep his mouth shut!

cons

his job. though kept secret, he uses his apothecary work to kill corrupt people. this wouldn't be well known, especially to a casual hookup, but would eventually come up for a romantic partner.

emotions are strongly suppressed. if romanced, cerise comes with baggage and would need somebody tolerant of his distrust and personal struggles.

he's not used to being treated tenderly. he'd do well to have somebody that coaxes him out of his hardened shell.

he has a strong dislike for ishgardian nobility, not uncommon of brume folk. a kind noble can tame his temper about it, but the topic makes him heated.

details

cerise is from and lives in the brume - the luxuries he gives will be far from fancy, but they come from the heart if he cares for someone.

scars are some of his most important features, on both his face and body. it's rather intimate for him to reveal the marks he hides, even if it's for a casual night.

he loves to read about substances, and will tell someone a bunch of information about potions if they let him.

he puts on a sweet exterior, freely calling others nicknames and doting on them. as a pro, it's a charming façade; as a con, it's very fake.

sexual: exclusively dominant. cerise views sex as a casual activity, and it's not hard to engage with him. he likes to have control, and have some kinkier fun if possible. aside from preference, there's a range of reasons as to why being submissive is far too vulnerable for him.

romantic: he's wary of letting his guard down in general, and it would require plenty of patience to capture his heart. if somebody manages to win him over, he'll become obsessed, frequently bringing gifts or desiring to spend time together. he doesn't care for physical affection as much as he does quality time.

really, he's all about fun. he'll experiment with all sorts of things, kinks, drugs.

i'm very interested to see how this will go. he's my most polarising and complex character by far, yet also the most casual when it comes to sexual relations.

[sansimeonsims]

The entire province so far. San Simeon's city proper (including the Parian) all have structures and are basically 90% or so finished from the exteriors. Second in completeness is San Jacinto Cadatuan, with only 2 more large houses to go at the town plaza before I start making exclusively thatch houses (jury's out on the hacienda houses).

Several towns remain unbuilt, and I have considered putting a few lots on the chopping or merging blocks to get the town in line with the ideal maximum of 100 lots (instead of the 113 it approximately has now). I may do a similar sweep when I revisit Kedatuan in the future.

More details under the cut:

I'm planning to use Votenga's medieval towers as a substitute for tower structures, acting as pure deco elements instead of some humdrum building nobody visits. I'm mostly put off by their size right now but we'll see how it goes.

A few of the lots on the other side of the mountain seem kinda redundant, even with the assumption that people not from the demographic that lives in Bahay na Bato would live in rural thatch houses, it seems odd that they'd be this far from a town.

My main concern though is the pair of lots here, which would suddenly be lonely if I did away with the others. But seeing as there's no town for them to cluster nearby and the lots are already pretty awkward as it is, I may just turn this into a nature lot and delete some of the others.

Next in the question of "am I really gonna keep this" is this town right here. I can't make any final decisions until I've started building, but merging at least one lot might be in the cards.

While I may be able to justify this one long lot as another hacienda, I can't do the same to the beach next to it. It's already pretty steep and there are two beaches in this island already.

Moreover, some other lots might not simply survive me laying down roads. One of these lots is bound to get removed.

Finally, there is the question of whether merging lots is a good idea. On one hand, this keeps the area sensibly occupied while reducing the lot count, but bigger properties also slow the game down.

Decisions, decisions...

[plumbobbro]

Welcome to Brindleton Bay Country Club

Welcome to Brindleton Bay Country Club, a haven of relaxation and recreation set against the breathtaking backdrop of Brindleton Bay’s serene coastline. This exclusive retreat is designed to offer an exceptional experience, blending the finest amenities with the charm of a beachside escape.

Begin your day with a delightful breakfast from our buffet, featuring fresh, locally sourced options to suit every palate. Our oceanfront restaurant invites you to indulge in gourmet meals while enjoying the sweeping views of the bay. For a more casual experience, unwind at either our interior or exterior bars, perfect for a refreshing cocktail, whether you're basking in the sunshine or relaxing indoors.

For those seeking an active lifestyle, our facilities cater to every need. Play a game of basketball on our state-of-the-art court, swim laps in our sparkling pools—both indoors and outdoors—or get your heart pumping at our fully equipped gym, complete with a sauna for post-workout relaxation. We also welcome families, with a cozy playground for kids to enjoy, allowing parents to relax or join in on the fun.

Brindleton Bay Country Club is more than just a place to play and unwind—it's also a luxurious getaway. Our accommodation options include eight spacious ensuite bedrooms and six elegantly appointed suites, many of which are designed to accommodate families, providing the perfect blend of comfort and convenience for your stay.

Located just steps from the beach, Brindleton Bay Country Club offers a complete experience where every detail is crafted for your enjoyment. Whether you're here to relax by the sea, stay active with our extensive facilities, or enjoy quality time with your loved ones, we invite you to make unforgettable memories in this stunning coastal paradise.

available on the gallery under ID : plumbobbro

FLOORPLAN DOWN BELOW

[ant1quarian]

Ideas ideas suddenly ideas; quick I need nesting habits for your avian courage and the dust and well the others if you'd like;

Like; type of favored material, Time spent making it, when they make it, and most of all- why. Like- can be for family or friends, or mate exclusive?

(Fatherless appears again)

Of course!

Courage tends to make big nests with wood as the exterior, and then completely covered in every soft thing he can find. Not always fluffy, but very cushy and soft.

Dust tends to actually dig a hole for his nest, which he then fully fills up with soft and fluffy crap he can find around. His feathers will also be scattered within it

( I may be back with more details- welcome back, Fatherless, I must go elsewhere for a second)

[yanderewhispers]

Yandere! Celebrity x Fan! Reader (Part 2)

Sebastian has grown intensely possessive and pushy with his affection. His once charming demeanor transforms into a dark and twisted obsession, making him a full-on yandere. He becomes consumed by the idea of possessing you completely, using his fame and wealth to manipulate situations and isolate you from others.

As your bond with Sebastian deepens, he starts exhibiting more yandere tendencies, becoming a full-on yandere in his relentless pursuit of you. His obsession with you becomes an addiction that consumes every waking thought. The fear of losing you drives him to increasingly extreme and erratic behavior.

Sebastian's insecurities fester beneath his charming exterior, and he feels an overwhelming need to prove his worthiness to you. As his celebrity status places him on a pedestal, he fears that you might view him as unattainable or out of your league. These insecurities drive him to be overly pushy with his affection, showering you with constant attention, gifts, and professions of love.

In his mind, he believes that by drowning you in affection and material possessions, he can ensure your undying loyalty. He uses his wealth and influence to create lavish experiences, whisking you away to private getaways, designer shopping sprees, and extravagant events, all in an attempt to solidify your connection.

His behavior, however, becomes suffocating. He relentlessly monitors your online presence and interactions, consumed by jealousy and possessiveness. He dislikes any form of attention you receive from others, viewing it as a threat to his relationship with you. He starts discouraging you from engaging with friends or other fans, planting seeds of doubt about their intentions.

Sebastian's thoughts spiral into a toxic mix of love and obsession. He becomes addicted to the idea of you being exclusively his, pushing aside any semblance of logic or respect for boundaries. He craves complete control over your life, dictating your actions and decisions, convinced that it is all in the name of love.

As his obsession reaches its peak, he starts manipulating situations to keep you away from other people. He may go to extreme lengths, like spreading rumors or sabotaging your interactions, to isolate you further from those who care about you. In his mind, he justifies these actions as necessary to protect you from potential harm.

He begins to view any form of rejection or resistance as a sign of your naivety, believing that you don't truly understand the depth of his love for you. Sebastian's neediness becomes more apparent as he struggles to cope with the fear of losing you. His emotions swing wildly between adoration and anger, and he finds himself on the edge of losing control.

In his pursuit of your affection, Sebastian becomes increasingly erratic and desperate. His once charming demeanor turns into a dark and twisted obsession that he can no longer hide. He has lost sight of reality, consumed by the idea of possessing you completely.

As the days pass, Sebastian's love-addiction intensifies, leading to increasingly disturbing behavior. He becomes fixated on every detail of your life, from the mundane to the significant, obsessively memorizing your daily routines and preferences. His thoughts are consumed by thoughts of you, day and night, leaving him restless and yearning for your presence.

He spends hours crafting elaborate plans to surprise you, believing that each grand gesture will solidify your bond. His love-addled mind convinces him that the more he invests in you, the more he'll win your heart, creating a twisted sense of entitlement over your affections.

As he becomes more desperate for your attention, his pushiness escalates to new heights. He bombards you with incessant messages, both online and offline, demanding immediate responses and expressing his distress when you don't reply promptly. He justifies this possessiveness as genuine concern for your well-being, when in reality, it stems from his fear of losing you.

His jealousy simmers beneath the surface, boiling over at the slightest indication of your connection with others. He views any interaction outside of his control as a betrayal, unable to bear the thought of sharing your affection with anyone else. This jealousy blinds him to the harm he's causing, fueling his need to maintain dominance over you.

Sebastian's sense of reality becomes increasingly skewed as he loses touch with reason. He creates a delusional world where you two are destined to be together, a universe where he alone understands your true worth and no one else can appreciate you like he can. This skewed perception drives him to take drastic measures to remove any perceived threats to your relationship.

In his desperate pursuit of your love, he may resort to manipulation, gaslighting, and emotional blackmail. He guilt-trips you into prioritizing him over other aspects of your life, making you feel responsible for his emotional well-being. He carefully twists situations to portray himself as the only one who truly cares for you, convincing you that he's your protector and savior.

I need to go to sleep. Randomly having motivation to write at 3am in the morning has wrecked my sleeping schedule 💀

[droctaviolovecraft]

TW: Sexual assault, body horror, indulged body deformation, detailed torture, sexism, child abuse, other very heavy themes and very potential triggers

"Mr. Widemouth rubs his large mouth on the faces of children he finds tasty."

ANM №: ANM-555

Identification: Mr. Widemouth

Danger Level: Snit 🟡 | Contained ⭕️

Responsible Researcher: Dr. Öctavio Kalev

Type of Anomaly: Toy, predatory, childlish, god

Lockdown: ANM-555 must be contained within a reinforced containment chamber in the Department of Anomalous Objects, Toy Section, measuring 6m³, lined with 10cm of reinforced steel plating. Access is strictly limited to Level 3 authorized personnel and above, with permission for only 2 assigned staff members, or the responsible researcher. No male personnel are permitted to enter the containment chamber under any circumstances. The blood-stained knife and backpack with body parts, originally belonging to Mr. Widemouth, have been confiscated and are also being held in the Department of Anomalous Objects, Criminal Evidence Section.

The containment chamber must be equipped with a low-frequency sound device designed to emit a constant tone above the human hearing range, which seems to have a calming effect on ANM-555. Personnel entering the chamber must wear full-body protective gear, including a Kevlar suit, to avoid direct contact with Mr. Widemouth. All interactions with him must be conducted by female researchers wearing gloves and a lab coat.

Additionally, ANM-555 must be monitored by closed-circuit cameras at all times. Any signs of aggression or containment breach attempts must be reported immediately to department security. If containment is compromised, Task Force "Doll-Breakers" must be mobilized to recapture ANM-555 carefully.

Description: ANM-555 appears to be a 42 cm tall "Furby"-like toy with anomalous enhancements, giving it a humanoid-monster appearance. It weighs approximately 30 kg and has a bloated, round torso, contrasting with its thin arms and legs. Analysis of ANM-555's right arm has revealed abnormal muscle mass growth, specifically in the biceps and forearm regions, attributed to ANM-555's frequent "self-stimulatory" behavior.

The internal structure of the doll resembles human organic flesh, while its exterior is made of a dense, durable synthetic fabric that serves as skin. The entity's belly is disproportionately swollen. Its mouth is unnaturally wide, forming a grotesque smile. The ears and nose are oversized compared to its head, which is wide and pointed. ANM-555 possesses a double chin, with a neck so broad it barely qualifies as one. Two glowing, unidentified eyes are embedded deep within its mouth, which seem to function as its true eyes, despite also having large, unsettling eyes on its face that appear to work as well. Mr. Widemouth does not have a tongue, but he can communicate vocally, often using crude, sexist, and demanding language, particularly toward women.

Notably, the creature exhibits a high level of intelligence, communicating through elaborate statements and showing manipulative behavior designed to incite fear. Mr. Widemouth demonstrates a strong preference for interacting exclusively with female personnel. He demands interviews only with women, threatening violence and sexual aggression against men who attempt to speak with him. This behavior extends to his victims, as he primarily targets young girls.

As mentioned, ANM-555 frequently engages in compulsive masturbation using his right arm, which has developed greater muscle mass and strength as a result. This behavior seems to be purely for self-gratification or relief, serving no apparent functional purpose. However, when not wielding a weapon, ANM-555 uses his right arm to attack potential victims. His punch is described as "strong and heavy, like that of a grown man."

In addition to speaking, ANM-555 frequently emits guttural, animalistic grunts and growls. These sounds often accompany his violent outbursts or when he is in close proximity to potential victims. The pitch and volume of these vocalizations appear to increase depending on the situation, conveying a sense of agitation or excitement. Despite his brutish nature, ANM-555 displays a surprising level of intelligence and resourcefulness. He has adapted to containment procedures and has found ways to circumvent certain rules. His ability to communicate effectively, as well as an ability to manipulate electronic devices within range, indicates a high degree of cognitive function.

Following Incident ANM-555-A, it was determined that Mr. Widemouth's anomalous properties are not limited to physical and behavioral enhancements. He has demonstrated the ability to manipulate and control electronic devices within a 5 meter radius, potentially allowing him to evade detection or compromise containment protocols. Further research is needed to fully understand the extent of these abilities.

ANM-555 was classified as a "killer Furby" upon containment, due to his predilections for violence against children. Reports indicate that ANM-555 castrated and harvested the reproductive organs of young males, storing them in a later confiscated backpack. An extensive collection of severed breasts and nipples from female subjects was also documented.

The anomaly's interactions with both male and female children are characterized by extreme brutality and perversion. When confronted with boys, it tends to focus on castration and removal of their organs, often engaging in prolonged and sadistic procedures before storing the severed parts in its backpack. In some cases, it has been observed biting or completely tearing off the victim's genitals.

If the boy manages to resist the initial attacks, ANM-555 may employ other forms of torture, such as forcing the child to watch as he mutilates their parents, or subjecting them to prolonged verbal abuse and humiliation. He has also been known to infect boys with his anomalous strain of tetanus, causing severe pain and eventually death.

Mr. Widemouth was recovered in [REDACTED], USA, where there were reports of a serial sexual assaulter and ripper in the area. He was captured in an old apartment filled with disturbing paraphernalia and “artwork” indicative of ANM-555’s violent tendencies, prompting an immediate recovery operation at the scene. Mr. Widemouth resisted arrest, frequently cursing, attempting to attack officers, and ordering them to “suck his genitals.”

Girls, on the other hand, are often subjected to a mix of violent attempts at penetration and sexual assault; in such cases where the target is a female child, ANM-555 will attempt to rape her. ANM-555 will also force his rusty teeth into her vaginal and anal openings, attempting to tear flesh and insert himself inside her body. If these methods fail, he will stab her breasts and cut off her mammary glands, also harvesting these organs. His abnormal teeth allow him to tear skin quickly, while his body can transmit a lethal strain of tetanus. All of the organs obtained by Mr. Widemouth were kept inside a backpack. All the while, he always used an old knife of an unknown make, already stained with the blood of several victims.

In terms of physical capabilities, ANM-555 possesses serrated, rusty teeth that can easily penetrate human skin. By biting, the subject risks exposure to a unique bacterial strain found in ANM-555's rust, resulting in a lethal form of rapid-onset tetanus that exhibits aggressive symptoms and often leads to death within 24 hours if left untreated. The bacteria can be considered a "Type 2 Tetanus".

In addition to physical violence, ANM-555 has been observed psychologically manipulating his female victims, often engaging in explicit and degrading conversations designed to break their spirits and make them more compliant. He appears to derive particular satisfaction from the terror and helplessness he inspires in his young prey.

It was only through the combined efforts of Department security and relevant containment protocols that ANM-555 was subdued and transferred to containment.

Addendum 555-A: Initial Interview

Interviewee: ANM-555

Interviewer: Dr. Marília (female researcher)

<Being Log>

ANM-555: (smiling) Ooh, a pretty lady! I've been waiting just forr you! What do you want, rrosy cheeks?

Dr. Marília: ANM-555, can you explain your origins and behavior?

ANM-555: (laughs) Orrigins? You mean my little amusement toys? I just love playing with little kids! They make the best noises!

Dr. Marília: You are known for hurting children. Why do you do this?

ANM-555: Because they'rre so soft! And they scrream so beautifully when I'm arround.

Dr. Marília: Have you ever considered the impact of your actions?

ANM-555: Why would I do that?! It's fun to collect! They don't need those parrts anymorre!

Dr. Marília: (observing increased aggression) That's enough for today.

ANM-555: You are not obedient! Come back when you are ready to play!

<End Log>

Conclusion: Psychological evaluation of ANM-555 indicates deep-seated psychopathy combined with deviant sexual tendencies. His capabilities and intentions pose a significant risk, possibly warranting a higher risk classification and necessitating strict containment measures. All personnel are advised to remain vigilant and cautious in the presence of ANM-555.

Mr. Widemouth exhibits a compulsion to attempt to penetrate any orifice he can find, whether organic or inorganic. This perversion manifests itself most notably in his violent attacks on human victims, where he forcibly inserts his appendage, including his arm, fingers, and even his knife, into his victims' mouths, nostrils, ears, genitals, and anal areas. However, this desire extends beyond living beings; the anomaly has been observed attempting to insert himself into various non-living materials, such as holes in walls, furniture, and even the metal bars of his containment cell. This behavior suggests a fundamental drive rooted in a distorted sense of dominance and control, with ANM-555 seeking to claim and desecrate any opening he perceives as vulnerable or accessible.

ANM-555 possesses an additional ability that allows it to feed on the sexual trauma experienced by its victims. This manifestation is triggered when the anomaly identifies individuals with a history of abuse, exploiting their deepest fears and darkest memories to inflict endless suffering.

Upon initial contact, ANM-555 begins to permeate the minds of these victims, extracting residual emotions and sensations associated with their past traumas. It then proceeds to reconstruct these events in vivid, hyper-real detail, forcing the victim to relive their most horrific experiences. However, the involvement of the anomaly takes these nightmares to a new, twisted level. It amplifies every sensation of pain, terror, and degradation, making the reconstructions seem far more intense and realistic than the originals. The victims are subjected to an endless cycle of abuse, with the anomaly playing the roles of both perpetrator and witness, relishing in their anguish and despair.

As the entity continues to feed, it gradually begins to distort the physical and mental state of its prey. Their bodies contort and twist, reflecting the psychological damage inflicted by the relived traumas. Skin lesions and mutilations appear, echoing the violence of its past actions. The minds of its victims break under the relentless onslaught, leaving them catatonic or insane by the time the process is complete. In extreme cases, the anomaly's influence can lead to a complete collapse of the victim's identity, their essence consumed by the cumulative horrors they have endured at its hands. The resulting husks are left as little more than shells, barely recognizable as human.

The image below is the transcription of a song usually sung by Mr. Widemouth, further investigation indicates that such song was composed by ANM-109 previously.

[Final Interview Report]

Interviewer: Dr. Patel

Interviewee: ANM-555

[The interview takes place in a reinforced containment cell. Dr. Patel, a female researcher, enters with a tablet and sits across from ANM-555, separated by a pane of glass]

[The interview takes place in a reinforced containment cell. Dr. Patel, a female researcher, enters with a tablet and sits across from ANM-555, separated by a glass pane.]

Dr. Patel: Hello, Mr. Widemouth. Today, we will discuss your preferences for interaction partners. Please explain why you require only female employees to interview?

ANM-555: (Looking lustfully) Ah, it’s simple, doctorr. Women are much more fun and satisfying than those lifeless sticks men have. They scrream morre beautifully when I hurrt them, and theirr holes are tighterr and morre enjoyable to stretch. Men are just sacks of meat without any appreciation for true carrnal delights.

Dr. Patel: That is... very graphic. What drives your preference for younger women specifically?

ANM-555: (Laughing menacingly) Innocence, naivety, the fear in their eyes... it’s intoxicating. And they’re so much more malleable, easier to break. Besides, [REDACTED OR CONFIGURED AS TOO EXPLICIT].

Dr. Patel: Your actions demonstrate a deep-seated misogyny and a twisted fascination with harming children. Can you explain the psychological motivations behind these behaviors?

ANM-555: (Smiling with contempt) Motivations? Ha! It’s simply the naturral orderr of things. [REDACTED OR CONFIGURED AS TOO EXPLICIT] corrruption and dishonor.

Dr. Patel: Your views are abhorrent and contrary to modern social standards.

ANM-555: ...Critics? I couldn’t carre less what anyone thinks. I am the embodiment of primorrdial and untamable will, and those who darre face me will suffer the consequences. And as for the label "monster," I wearr it with prride.

Dr. Patel: Despite your violent nature, you’re still able to communicate effectively. How do you maintain your cognitive functions and develop speech patterns?

ANM-555: Heh, I assure you my mind is sharperr than any steel blade. The entities inside my mouth give me access to knowledge and abilities beyond your darrkest fantasies. As for my speech, well, I’ve had more than enough time to obserrve and learrn from the humans bold enough to interract with me.

Dr. Patel: Your entities?

ANM-555: They arre the verry essence of darrkness, the manifestation of my deepest and most deprraved desirres. Thrrough them, I perceive the world in all its distorrted glorry, and they allow me to project my malevolent presence onto those arround me. In shorrt, they arre the instrruments of my torrturous will.

[The interview abruptly ends as ANM-555’s eyes glow more intensely, and he begins to growl ominously.]

Incident Report 555-8

Date: 20/02/2023

Local: Residência Privada, 345 Maple St., Anytown, USA

Recontainment Protocol: Level 4

Description: On 02/19/2023, at approximately 10:45 p.m., agents from the MOTHRA Institute responded to a distress call at the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Johnson. Upon arrival, they found 7-year-old Emily Johnson in a state of severe distress, claiming that "Mr. Widemouth" had hurt her.

Upon further investigation, the medical team determined that Emily's vaginal walls had been severely torn, with evidence of recent penetration. A full examination revealed that the anomaly, later identified as ANM-555, which had managed to escape from the Institution with the help of a staff member, had indeed penetrated Emily's uterus. The child's internal injuries were life-threatening, requiring immediate surgery.

Emily underwent emergency surgery and was placed in a medically induced coma. She remained in critical condition throughout the night.

The next morning, agents from the Mobile Task Force arrived at the hospital to secure the scene. As they approached Emily's room, they heard a voice emanating from inside the child's abdominal cavity.

ANM-555: (Laughing) Oh, good morrning, agents! Isn't this a beautiful day? I think you'rre in the wrrong rroom by the way.

Agent Rho: W-what the fuck?!

ANM-555: Hey! Don't worrry, I'm not botherring yourr precious little girrl. She's just my temporrarry luxurry rroom forr the night.

Agent Rho: (Pulling out his gun) Get out of her NOW, you sick piece of shit!

ANM-555: What? You think a little thing like that is going to stop me? Please. (The anomaly's voice grows louder, echoing inside Emily's body) I'm rright herre, darrling. Safe and cozy inside your womb. We had so much fun togetherr last night! (The anomaly crawls back deeper)

Emily's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, burst into the room, horrified to see their daughter's torn abdomen and the freak's voice emanating from within.

Mr. Johnson: (Screaming) What the hell is going on?! Get this thing off our daughter.

ANM-555: Oh, dearr Daddy, you can't save herr now. Emily's body is mine to play with, and I always get what I want. (The anomaly's laughter grows louder, in a maniacal tone)

Dr. Jaf: (Calming the situation) Alright, everyone, let's fall back and regroup. We need to come up with a plan to safely extract ANM-555 without hurting Emily any further.

As the agents moved away from Emily's bedside, ANM-555's laughter slowly faded, replaced by an eerie silence. The anomaly's presence seemed to recede, allowing the medical team to focus on stabilizing the young woman.

In the days that followed, Emily remained in critical condition, her body struggling to heal from the brutal violation. Despite her doctors' best efforts, the scars left by ANM-555's actions would forever mark her as a victim. In the weeks that followed, the Johnson family struggled with the trauma inflicted on their daughter, seeking counseling and support from MOTHRA. As Emily slowly recovered, both physically and emotionally, the agents tasked with recontacting ANM-555 worked tirelessly to prevent similar incidents in the future.

[oohbuggypie]

hai Punch Out!! buddies 🩷 ive had this little series idea in my head for over a month now; i would like to call it "HOME" !! and though it would take a lot of time, patience, thinking etc., id rlly love to try my best and execute it ! but i genuinely need help to make it happen !! so first things first:

second:: i have a series of questions !! if u can, pls answer in RBs or replies section 🩷

1. what would King Hippo's island look like more in depth ? since Hippo Island is fictional, i think some unrealistic / fun elements could be added: would the sand be a unique color? would the water have unique properties? would there be specific kinds of plants that grow there? anybody that has any deeper and/or fun headcanons about what his island would look like, go wild !! realism does not matter for this one !

2. what kind of car would Macho Man drive ?? i personally have an affinity for old cars so im probably gonna lean more towards those, but more basic questions would be better: what color do you think he'd have the exterior painted? any fun ideas for his special license plate ? any headcanons for special details on the tires, steering wheel, interior, etc.? what color would the interior be?

3. if anybody has some personal experiences or insight into comfort places / restaurants in Berlin, Moscow, Paris, Istanbul, Dublin, Philly, Tokyo, etc., id love to hear abt it so i can get a more immersive gauge into what im working with ! just hearing abt the atmosphere, dishes served, special features, attitudes of people there (if it isn't an isolated spot), etc. would be more than enough help 🩷 this is one of the most important questions i have for this entire idea, so if u would like to ignore any of the questions, don't let it b this one !!

4. what are some general headcanons you have about ANY OF the character's personalities outside the ring ? this is not exclusive to the characters listed in the poll!! do you have any headcanons about their lives back at home ? what do u think they enjoy doing besides boxing ? outside of those questions, literally ANY headcanons regardless of whether u think they're relevant or not is super fun and helpful !!

if i have more questions ill either edit this post or make separate ones ! i don't usually ask specifically for more reach but i would def appreciate reblogs so that the poll can get some votes and i can start compiling ideas from u guys 🩷 this will def take some time and research if i can make it happen but i wanna do this so bad !! thank u 2 anybody who helps w this genuinely < 3

[farity]

In the Red of Night, part 10

"It's a trap."

"It might be."

"You know it is."

Alys ignored Bronn's insistence. She was in charge and that was that. He huffed to himself and then left to get ready for the upcoming meeting.

She wasn't stupid - of course she figured that Aemond wasn't going to meet her just to kneel down and pledge himself to her. Which is why she was taking half a dozen of her best men with her, including Bronn.

But she also knew Aemond, and the mere fact that he was willing to meet with her meant he was open to more than dinner. She squeezed her thighs together, thinking of them going back to the hotel room she had booked. It had been so long.

No one had ever replaced him in her heart, or in her bed. She had fucked many a lesser man and every orgasm had left her empty, hollow.

It was Aemond or nothing.

He would see, she wanted them to rule together, to be the king and queen of the realm. What should have been all those centuries ago would be now and he would finally appreciate her brilliance, her determination. And he would love her as she deserved.

There had been no sighting, no trace of the silly little bonbon - the stupid little human was, like most humans eventually were, history. Not worthy of the long existence that she and Aemond had. She could never be important to Aemond.

This time, the witch and the dragon would finally take their rightful place atop the masses.

* * * * *

"You trust me?"

"Of course."

He kissed you again, his large hands framing your face. "I love you," he whispered, and you smiled.

"I love you."

He pressed his forehead against yours for a moment, then pulled back, took your hand to his lips and kissed it before getting into the black car that awaited him.

You went to the SUV where Gendry was already in the driver's seat while Arya waited just outside. "Ready?"

You nodded.

"We'll pick up the rest on our way there," she said as you got in. "Let's get this party on the road," she smiled at Gendry as she closed her door.

To be honest, you were terrified. It was one thing to run drills with Arya, to go through scenarios with her, Gendry and their people, but to actually face Alys Rivers was a different thing.

It wasn't her beauty or the clothes she wore - she had a presence about her, a dominance that had made you collapse after she'd come into your coffee shop. You remembered Gendry rushing to make sure you didn't hit the floor. You remembered the shop, the love and care you'd put into it. The endless hours. Every cent you'd had to your name.

Pushing your anger aside, as Arya had taught you, you went through your mental drills. They were as important, if not more so, than the physical stuff. All the combat training in the world, Arya had said, was useless if you froze in the face of danger.

"Make a list," Arya had said. "It helped me back then."

You hadn't asked for details because frankly, Arya scared you just a little bit, but you had dutifully made your list, and repeated it to yourself every night before falling asleep.

* * * * *

Ten, three, five, Aemond thought as he walked into the exclusive restaurant Alys had chosen for their dinner.

He figured there were more of her people throughout the place, but his first impression was that if she wanted them to blend in, they had woefully failed the brief.

The hostess looked terrified, behind the perfectly polished exterior, and he figured she was unaware of the details, but knew something strange was happening tonight. "This way, sir," she said, and led him to a corner table where Alys waited.

"Aemond," Alys stood and walked around to extend her hand, palm down, for him to kiss.

He grasped her fingers for a moment and then let go before taking his seat. "I'm here, Alys. What do you want?"

He saw the flicker of annoyance in her eyes, both at his obvious lack of courtesy, and at his words, but she smiled at him and signaled to the hostess to bring some wine.

"Aemond, let us not be hasty. This is the best restaurant in the city."

"Yet half the people here are common criminals, unworthy of setting foot in this place."

She pressed her lips together. "I wouldn't need to have people with me if I trusted you more," she said softly, "but we can fix all that. Oh, the wine."

He said nothing while the server poured two glasses, placed one in front of Alys for her to try.

"Lovely, thank you."

Another server walked up, set a long tray with an assortment of bread, a bowl of oil and balsamic vinegar.

"I have a proposal that will benefit us both." She reached into her bag and Aemond tensed instinctively, but she only pulled out a folder and extended it to him. "I believe you will be impressed by what I have put together, and of course, with us working together, the possibilities are endless."

He took the folder from her, watching out of the corner of his eye as a couple walked in. The man had short black hair and wore a suit that didn't hide his muscled build, and the woman was petite, wore a leather jacket with black trousers and boots, and as Aemond well knew, they were both armed to the teeth.

He glanced through the papers while Alys picked at the bread, dipped a piece in the oil and balsamic before eating it. She sipped at her wine, her eyes on Aemond.

"You've got background on all these?"

Alys smiled smugly. "Yes. And investors ready to drop whatever I ask."

No, you don't, he thought.

* * * * *

One of her men kept looking over and Alys was going to lose it. What was it with these fucking ruffians that they couldn't play pretend for half an hour?

She had dressed them in designer suits, brought them to the most exclusive place in the city, and they kept acting like peasants, was it really too much to ask to pretend to be posh for a little bit?

"Are you okay, Alys?" Aemond asked, a smile playing upon his mouth, and she wanted to slap him for it. He could always tell.

"I just want us to work together, darling. Let bygones be bygones and look at the bigger-"

"Bygones."

She took a slow breath. "Aemond." She made herself fold her hands together on her lap. "Let's sign the deal. Let's work together for a greater purpose."

"I need to run this by my lawyers, do some more-"

"Aemond!"

She couldn't help herself, she could never help herself around him. Always wanted more. Because he never gave her everything. He always kept part of himself locked away and she wanted it all.

He sat back, watching her.

"I'm sorry, darling," she tried again, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "You know everything is solid. You know how I work. I have the investors, I have-"

"But you don't." He spoke gently and her anger rose. "You don't, Alys."

"I've spoken to the VCs, I have-"

"You don't have them, Alys. They all came to me after your insistent letters and messages. Venture capitalists don't like to be bullied."

Her hands clenched into fists in her lap. "What did you say to them?"

Aemond placed the folder next to Alys's wine glass. "I said that they could work with you if they wished, but that there was no partnership between you and me. Not now. Not ever."

She could only stare at him, and he could sense her growing recklessness, the cruelty that was under that polished surface, ready to spring into action.

"I will kill her, Aemond. I will not let you humiliate-"

"I have done nothing of the sort, Alys. I have lived my long life without bothering you and I was hoping you would be able to do the same."

Alys stood, and he had to give it to Arya Stark, she giggled at that moment, still pretending to be engrossed in her conversation with Gendry.

He sensed five people going on alert around him.

"You belong to me, Aemond. You can play with your food all you want, but that fucking bitch," she laughed bitterly, "you can't possibly want a milquetoast like that when you can have me. She is a temporary diversion."

Aemond stood slowly, arms at his side.

"Alys, she is no longer temporary."

"Oh, Aemond," Alys sighed. "What have you done?"

If she was expecting any regret from him, any form of appeal to her mercy, she was wrong.

"Moved on," he said, simply. "Found love. You should have tried it."

"We had love," Alys snapped. "We had everything."

Aemond scoffed. "You had me on a leash, which was your definition of everything." He shook his head. "Not mine."

Alys walked around the table. "You'll grow tired of her."

Aemond said nothing and Alys began to walk closer. The five people he'd sensed earlier stood, and Alys held up a hand.

"How could you, Aemond? How could you betray me? Us?"

"There is no us, Alys. And my patience, as much as you've tested it through the decades, is not infinite."

"I will end her. I don't care if you've turned her. You belong to me," she repeated.

"You will find," a new voice said, and Alys turned at the sound, "that you can't make that true just by saying it over and over."

If there had been anger in Alys's eyes before, there was only fury now, and Aemond had to smile at the sight of his woman, walking in to the dining room of the restaurant.

He extended a hand, and she walked toward him. She smiled at him and placed her hand in his.

"My choice," Aemond said, "and thank the old gods and the new, her choice as well."

Alys leapt, placing one foot on the edge of the table and jumping over it, a dagger in each hand as she aimed for them.

* * * * *

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‘Our Flag Means Death’ Sneak Peek: Inside Blackbeard & Crew’s New Season 2 Looks

Breakups aren’t easy, but that’s especially true for the new and improved — depending on how you look at it — crew of the Revenge in Our Flag Means Death Season 2 premiering Thursday, October 5th on Max, as Blackbeard, a.k.a. Ed (Taika Waititi) continues to unravel after Gentleman pirate Stede Bonnet (Rhys Darby) abandoned him in Season 1.

As with the end of Season 1, Blackbeard recedes even further into the persona of himself painted by various wanted posters. He’s sporting the same black eye makeup as he did in the first season’s finale and also influencing the way his crew looks while serving him aboard the vessel previously helmed by Stede. Above and below, we’re delving into some of those details with exclusive photos, exclusive interviews, and a brand-new clip teasing the dynamic aboard the Revenge.

In the sneak peek, below, times are tense for Frenchie (Joel Fry), Jim (Vico Ortiz), Fang (David Fane), and the newest member of the team, Archie (Madeleine Sami), as they observe Blackbeard’s second in command, Izzy Hands (Con O’Neill). As seen in the minute-and-a-half exchange, Izzy’s getting testy with the shipmates when they question orders to throw treasure overboard. “It is not your place to tell me what does or does not make sense. It is your job to follow my f**king orders,” Izzy spits, emotion welling in his makeup-darkened eyes.

Fang is the first to note that Izzy doesn’t seem to be doing fine, and Jim steps forward to add, “Yeah, we think you’re in an unhealthy relationship with Blackbeard.” Additional tidbits from the crew include the fact that Blackbeard does “a lot of rhino horn” and he’s cut off more of Izzy’s toes.

In other words, Ed’s downward spiral is wreaking havoc on Izzy and the rest of the gang. But depending on how you feel about certain pirate looks, their exterior makeovers are sure to excite, regardless of the reasoning behind them.

“[Blackbeard] sort of has this Mad Max thing that we already established in Season 1, that’s so gorgeous and so unique to [him]. So I just wanted to up that ante,” costume designer Gypsy Taylor tells TV Insider. “We started with that Mad Max black leather violent side of him, and he’s sort of infiltrated this crew now. So they’ve taken it upon themselves to become Beard’s crew in whatever circumstance they’re in.”

“They’ve all taken to that color palette of the black leather and filth, which makes ’em look mean,” Taylor adds with a laugh, but makes it clear, “individually, I wanted to give [them each] a really unique look.” Teaming up with Taylor to accomplish that look is hair and makeup designer Nancy Hennah, who enhances the fantastic clothing ensembles viewers will see onscreen.

“We spent a lot of time working out what we were going to do for the raid makeups,” Hennah says of the Revenge crew. “Blackbeard in particular has lost it a bit and is really going off on a tangent, and the rest of the crew have kind of been pulled into that. We spent a lot of time working out what products were going to be good to emulate [something like the] grease found on the boat and they’ve smeared it on their faces.”

“Blackbeard is really struggling with having lost Stede and is leaning into that dark side, which is frightening for everybody else, but they’re sort of trying to play along,” Hennah continues. While fans may have already seen previously-released photos of the crew, Taylor and Hennah dug into their personal archives to share exclusive sketches and behind-the-scenes photos to provide a closer look at their process and each individual character’s look aboard the Revenge. Check them out below.

Our Flag Means Death, Season 2 Premiere, Thursday, October 5, Max

“With Jim, that’s a huge transformation,” Taylor says about star Ortiz’s onscreen evolution. “It was a really exciting one. We talked about it a lot with Vico, and I wanted to bring in a whole lot of ropes and things that they would’ve found on the ship to make an outfit out of and a giant fishhook that we made a belt out of.”

When it comes to the Revenge crew’s ensembles, there’s a focus on found materials doubling as clothing, “so sort of scrounging and finding elements around pirate ships that they could make a costume out of,” Taylor elaborates, noting that the pirates are being resourceful in “almost the same way that drag queens do.”

When it came to styling Ortiz in their costume alongside the other crew members, Hennah says, “Vico had a great new hairstyle, which we were really excited about, and we cut that early on in our testing phase. Then they had to hide [it].

Everywhere they went, they were wearing a hat.” It was all about “getting the right balance between the amount of hair on top and the amount of hair that we took [off] on the side,” she adds of Jim’s mohawk sported by Ortiz, which can be seen in the sketch and behind-the-scenes test photos.

Similar to Jim’s found fashion, Frenchie’s sporting an edgier look this season that is supposed to look like stolen wares from another pirate. “Because pirates steal a lot,” Taylor says, “they’ve quite often got cool things that they’ve stolen off of other pirates. And that’s where the inspiration for Frenchie’s jacket came.” As fans may recall, Frenchie found cats particularly terrifying in Season 1, so it makes sense that he’d emulate the feline, which has a motif on the back of his coat according to Taylor.

“Maybe he stole it from another pirate ship, and then he made it his own by putting this sort of ode to Desperately Seeking Susan on the back of his jacket with this rearing cat, which in the first season, the cat was very innocent lightly licking his paw, and now we’ve gone really manic and bad,” says Taylor.

Meanwhile, Blackbeard’s soft-spoken, but brutish when-needed crew member is enhancing his look from last season with some ornamental additions. “We didn’t want to change Fang too much, but I incorporated a whole lot of new elements to his costume,” Taylor teases. “So he’s got the teeth of sperm whales all around his necklace, and then he’s got walrus teeth coming out of his jacket. So he’s sort of made a new look based on animals that he might’ve found out in the open seas, like dead carcasses and things like that.”

This behind-the-scenes shot from Hennah offers a closer look at Fane’s Fang on set.

An exciting aspect of the season for Taylor and Hennah was the addition of Archie to the crew, giving them something new to craft. “Archie’s now part of the gang, and she’s just a badass,” Taylor gushes. “We figured she was sort of deep from the dark alleyways of New York in her sort of street punk aesthetic.”

One piece of Archie’s ensemble is an homage to one of Taylor’s favorite films, The Warriors. “She’s wearing a little Warriors red leather gang jacket,” Taylor shares, adding, “Her t-shirt is a really cool, very subtle print of Blackbeard’s wanted poster.” Why? “She’s a bit of a fan girl,” Taylor notes. “She really looks up to Blackbeard and how bad he is.”

When it comes to tattoos, Hennah says, “I try to talk about their personal heritage and where they’ve come from and if there’s anything that they want in terms of tattoos.”

For Sami, Hennah sought out designs with Fijian and Indian influence to reflect the actor’s personal heritage. “I approached a Henna artist, and we just got her to do a drawing of some designs,” Hennah reveals. “And then Madeline and a few of the other makeup team [members] and I spent about four or five hours just turning those little puzzle pieces into the tattoos.”

Sami loved her tattoos so much that Hennah says she was told Sami “is thinking about getting one of the tattoos for real.”

And when it comes to Izzy, he’s not changing things too much. “He’s just a man of his own. He wouldn’t really listen to Blackbeard,” Taylor says. “So there were very subtle things [that we were going to do], like adding studs to his gloves so that when he beat up people, it was a little bit more violent.

But in the end, we took it away. He’s enough of a badass on his own.” Ultimately, the only real change people will see on Izzy went the show returns is, “He got a bit dirtier from being at sea. We broke him down more, added a bit more sort of salt and all those crusty sort of overlays.”

When it comes to the crew’s man in charge, Blackbeard’s transformation has evolved a bit since viewers last saw him in Season 1. “I wanted to keep his leathers because pirates, as you see in Season 1, are at sea for a really long time. They don’t have a closet, unlike the Gentleman pirate Stede. So they’re always just wearing the same thing and getting dirtier and dirtier and dirtier.”

When a pirate dons a new garment though, it’s usually stolen. Such is the case for Blackbeard, according to Taylor: “We figured he’d stolen this black leather jacket in a raid, but he’d sort of made it his own in his own manic way, much [like] he’s done with the ship where [things are torn down and burned].”

Wanting to reflect the season’s production design in Blackbeard’s coat, Taylor says, “We burned it, and we ripped it, and we added six different belts to the sides that are holding it together, which would be like he murdered six pirates and stole their belts. And he’s started to collect a little bit more jewelry. So you’ll start to see some new rings and a little lovely pearl necklace that he’s stolen off of someone at the wedding party [seen in the teaser trailer] perhaps.”

As for Blackbeard’s makeup and hair, Hennah says, “We stuck mostly around his eyes. It just looked more sinister, and he was a lot more disheveled. He spends a lot of time this season wet, which is a bit of a nightmare when you’ve got beards and wigs and drying and getting back to dry. He has always had two wigs, and we got an extra one made this season as well because we were having to swap between wet and dry a lot.”

Apart from the extra wig, it was the tattoos that made up Blackbeard’s biggest makeup change. “We added quite a few tattoos,” shares Hennah. “I think in Season 1, he had around 24 tattoos, but at times this season, we were up to 30, and three of them were the big chest tattoo and then a brand new back tattoo. I worked with Dean Sacred at Sacred Tattoo for the big back tattoo design. He did a beautiful drawing for us of the skull with the snake coming out, the skull’s eyes with the snake crying.” As fans can see, the snake and skull sit above another tattoo with the words “Trust No One.”

Will he ever trust again after Stede left? Only time will tell.

Source: TV Insider