#her name is absinthe by the way...

[u-friend-or-ufo]

Just messing around on VRoid Studio. Maybe an avatar for my side blog??? Meh...Who knows...

[bunniesanddeer]

Hate: Part Two

Loathing

Part two to this fic: Part One

Pairings: Alastor X Reader, (Hints of Angel Dust/Husk)

Warnings: Reader still hates Alastor, Reluctant enemies to enemies with benefits, angst, so much angst, Angel is a good friend, SMUT

Word Count: 5,109

MINORS DNI

Everything was awkward, now. You couldn’t look in any direction without being faced with evidence of his existence. He was absolutely everywhere, and not always in person. His coat folded neatly over the arm of a chair. The spices in the cupboard that he got specifically for when he made dinner. The red radio in the library. His scent lingered in your bed, even after the sheets had been changed twice. The bruises had stayed for weeks, dull green marks pressed into the dimples of your hips. 

Sometimes, when he spoke, you had such a visceral, subconscious reaction. Your body would jolt, your ears pricking and swiveling. It was embarrassing how obvious it was, but thankfully for you, the worst was over. Your heat had long ended, and you had made it a goal to avoid ever interacting with him again.

Alastor, being the bastard he was, made it as difficult as possible. It seemed that when you told him that nothing would change, he made it his goal to continue to piss you off as much as possible. He would be outside your door when you woke up on the weekend, and would insist on walking you down to breakfast. If he was at the table, he’d pull out your chair, and dare you to deny him in front of Charlie. (How could you? The puppy eyes she gave you whenever you turned to take another chair could kill someone). So you’d sit, and he’d give you the most shit-eating grin every time. It made your skin crawl. 

Alastor would find time to ask you about whatever you were doing. He’d ask insane questions, and he’d follow you around if you tried to ignore him. You’d be talking to Angel, and Alastor would leer over your shoulder, getting impossibly close without actually touching you. You quickly learned how to keep your expression flat, but your conversation partner, often Angel or Husk, would always react, making it harder. 

There was one line, however, that he never crossed again. He never went inside your room. On multiple occasions he’d asked, but you’d firmly said no, (if a “fuck no, die,” was a firm no). He’d take your answer, and mosey on his way. 

And so you suffered under his strange attentions for several weeks. Charlie did her best to give him tasks to keep the two of you separated, when she could, but he was eerily efficient, all in the name of bugging you some more. Vaggie, on multiple occasions, had offered to skewer him with her spear, but you’d denied, the thought of Charlie’s dismay stopping you. 

Angel, nearing his namesake, (not the drug, thank Lucifer), was always close at hand when he wasn’t at work. And one night, seeing how stressed you were, he decided it was time to let loose. 

“C’mon babe! You know you want to-”, Angel crooned, swinging the bottle of liquor in front of your face. Husk huffed in the background, shaking his head lovingly. “Come onnnnnnn. Let loose with me, an’ ol’ Husky!”

You roll your eyes with a small laugh, and shrug your shoulders. “Alright, you bitch. Fine. Pour me one.”

Angel pumps two of his hands in the air, and then just hands you the bottle. You stare flabbergasted at the bottle, and he just laughs. “Oh, you can down that straight! I’ve seen you. Don’t even lie to me right now.”

“Fuck you,” you mutter as you take a swig. You immediately wince. Whatever Angel handed you burns like hell, and you can’t help but take a glance at the label to try and figure out what it is. It’s written in French, and unfortunately tastes like licorice. “God, what is this?”

“It appears to be absinthe, my dear,” Alastor’s voice drawls from above you. You jump, nearly dropping the bottle. Your heart is pounding, and all you can think to do is glare at him. His smile wedges wider, and you want to punch his ugly yellow teeth in. 

Without responding, you whip your head around and glare at Angel. “You gave me fucking absinthe? What’s the fucking — what’s the alcohol percentage?” You peer down at the label, and struggle to find the percentage. Alastor’s claw taps at small numbers underneath the name. 

“74%. Definitely French, although how you got that down here, my friend, I would very much like to know.” Alastor peers down at the bottle with renewed interest, and you can’t help but agree. This is from the mortal plane, and goods from there are rare. Someone had to smuggle it, and there are only so many that have access. You hum, and then the shock hits you.

“YOU GAVE ME THIS? Oh my goodness! Angel! Do you know how much this must cost?!” You rush to set it down on Husk’s bar top, and back away from it. “Dude! Not cool.” Your ears pin back, and you give Angel a light swat. He just keeps laughing, and Husk seems to be joining in.

“Figured you could use the stress relief, kid. It’s all yours.” Husk says it like it means nothing, still cleaning up behind the bar, but your eyes go wide. Husk is so rarely nice like this, and it makes your chest ache. You have friends. You have friends and you absolutely love them. 

Your eyes are on the verge of tearing up, but you swallow it down. “Aw, I love you too!”

Angel laughs, pointing a finger at Husk, and hugs you with his extra arms. “We love you too, doll! Now let’s get drinking!”

You can hear a scoff come from the demon behind you, but you ignore it. Who cares what he thinks? You ask for a shot glass from Husk, grab the bottle, and settle in on one of the couches. Unfortunately, Alastor follows, and settles in the armchair across from you. You settle a glare on him, and then pour yourself a drink. You are going to ignore him, you can do this.

Husk and Angel settle on the other couch, and Angel points at you. “We’re gonna play a game! To spice things up. So, tell me toots, what’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?”

You cock your head. “Mortal, or down here?”

Angel’s face scrunches up as he thinks. “Mortal,” he decides. No one has really shared much about their mortal lives, so it’s relatively interesting. 

“Well, if we’re talking about something I survived, then probably dislocating my shoulder. Most intense pain I had ever felt. Boyfriend had grabbed my armed and pulled a little too hard. But, if it’s not surviving that matters, probably how I died.” You don’t think on it too long, the pain flaring in your shoulder as if it had just happened. It had really hurt, too.

Angel leans forward, and even Alastor’s ear prick up. You try to keep from letting your gaze slide to him. “Ooo! How’d you die? C’mon! Tell me. You’ve gotta!”

Angel’s excitement nearly makes your eyes roll out of your head. Of course, he’d be interested, the bastard. 

“I’m not gonna give you all the details,” you start, downing the shot and ignoring his sad ‘aw’. “But I will say, that the other guy got worse. Bet the asshole is drifting around down here.” You can’t help the sour look that passes over your face. You’d been in your late twenties, and some guy went and screwed over everything. 

Alastor cocks his head, clearly intrigued. The look on his face tells you he very much wants to ask a question, but is restraining himself. The ‘why’ itches the back of your skull, but you just feel annoyed with yourself. You keep glancing over at him. 

“Anyway. My turn. Uh. Husk. How much can you drink in five minutes?” Your face burns, and you just want this annoying feeling to go away.

“We don’t have enough to prove it.” His tail lazily twitches behind him, and his face is the epitome of boredom. You and Angel just blink at him. Laughter bursts out of the two of you, and a smile twitches across Husk’s face.

“Wowza! Was not expecting that to be yer answer, babes.” Angel wipes a tear from his eyes, and leans back. “Your turn.”

Husk hums and glances at Alastor before turning back to Angel. “Would you eat a cockroach for fifty bucks?”

“Wha— no? They’re like, basically my cousins babe! That’s fuckin’ gross!”

Your whole body lurches, desperately wanting to laugh, but your brain is halted, trying to process his answer. A glance across from you, and Alastor’s eyebrows are hitched nearly to his hairline. He glances back at you, and you can’t help it. You laugh so hard that it hurts. Your belly aches, and your ribs have a stitch growing in them. Your ears pin back as you try to calm yourself down, but it’s all so absurd; your friends, the asshole in the room. Everything is just so screwed up right now. (If you don’t laugh, maybe you’ll cry, and that’s so much more embarrassing). 

“Sorry,” you start to say, taking a swig directly from the bottle. “Just, thought it was funny.”

All three men in the room are giving you strange looks, and you want to shrink in on yourself. God, could they not look anywhere else?

“Your turn, Angel,” you say, gently prodding him to start the conversation back up.

“Oh! Right. Hey Al, what’s your favorite position?”

You and Husk stiffen, and turn your attention to Alastor. His brows are pressed together, and his fingers twitch.

“What ever could you mean?” You can’t tell if he’s genuinely confused or if he’s annoyed. He’s always so good at shadowing one emotion with another, or maybe you are terrible at reading him, You never could discern between his expressions.

Angel laughs, and waves a hand. “Oh, come on, Al! You know, in bed. What’s your favorite position in bed?”

“Asleep,” Alastor bluntly replies, and it draws a snort from you. His eyes meet yours for a second as his grin grows. You stare at the floor.

“No, no! For sex, Al. What’s your favorite sex position?” 

You cringe, and from the corner of your eye, can see Alastor’s leg twitch, shifting when he’s normally so still. 

When the quiet pause lasts longer than you thought it would, you look up, and Alastor is staring straight at you. His gaze is intense, and his smile is as close to being flat as it could be, (excluding that night. The line of his mouth, the softness in his eyes), and he’s just staring at you. His brows furrow and smoothen, and the corner of his mouth twists. 

“I think I prefer it on all fours.” He cocks his head, and his sharp smile grows wide. His eyes narrow, and you feel like prey, caught in the claws of its demise. Your ears flatten back as he speaks, “I like them on their belly.”

You stand up, setting the bottle down on the coffee table, and point at him. “FUCK YOU!”

Husk and Angel watch on, eyes wide. Angel settles a hand on Husk’s knee, and squeezes.

“Fuck you Alastor! You came to ME! Not the other way around!” You clench your teeth together, trying to force down your shaking. You’re so fed up.

“Wait, what?” You hear Angel mutter, but Alastor is standing up, and it’s all you can focus on.

“Yes, but it was you who needed me. Don’t pretend like you did not like it, my dear! Nothing can change that it happened. There’s no point in pretending it didn’t.” He sounds so calm, and it infuriates you. He doesn’t get to pull this shit with you. You want him down on your level.

“Oh-ho. No. I told you nothing would change. I was EXPLICIT with that fact. I hate your fucking guts. Just because Hell decided your dick was the only one my body wanted, doesn’t change that. You don’t get to just be a goddamn puppy now, constantly begging for my attention! Why are you like that? Stop following me around! I hate you! You hate me! Get the fuck over it!”

His eyes are narrowed, and his ears tipped back. “So presumptuous, ma douce. You think to understand my motives, and you barely understand yours.”

You bare your teeth at him. “You snuck into my room, for my attention. You’re so damn desperate. Is that what this is? You want me to like you that bad, that you’ll fuck me to get it?”

Alastor’s expression screams that he thinks you’re stupid. “Oh, you know nothing, do you, dearest?”

“Fuck you.”

“You already have.”

Angel stands up, setting himself between you. You hadn’t even noticed that the two of you had stepped closer to each other. “Whoa, whoa. Calm down.” He turns to Alastor. “You went to their room? You told me you were leaving for the night!”

Alastor answers without missing a beat. “I lied.”

You want to scream. You pull at your hair, and turn to the side, trying to slow your breathing. This insufferable bastard. 

“I’m going to bed,” you finally huff. You take off towards the stairs. You just want to go to bed. Fuck everything. All of them. He makes your head hurt. 

Halfway to your room, you notice the static. He’s following you. Great.

You turn around, and glare at him. “What do you want?”

His expression is strangely open. His smile is smaller than usual, and he keeps glancing behind him. Why is his behavior always like this? So back and forth. You can never understand him.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it,” He finally says. His brows pinch together, and he opens his mouth, but shuts it again.

“I have. It’s easy.” You lie. It’s such a lie. When you are in bed at night, you can feel the ghost of his hands trailing your thighs, your neck. You can feel him cradle your head as he presses a strange kiss to your shoulder. It’s an ache, but the deep burning hatred is stronger. It burns the ghosts to ash, and it leaves you feeling empty. 

Alastor seems hurt by your words, but almost as if he expected them. “I want to do it again. I want��” He stops himself, hesitating. You just want him to get it over with so you can go to bed. It’s all so exhausting. “I want to touch you again, ma biche. I have been trying to get you to spend time with me, so I could bring it up naturally, but I have not been able to find the time or the words appropriate.” He swallows, and shifts, and you can feel his static swell. “I have never wanted someone before. It’s normally an urge that is easily handled alone, but you are different. I want to know why. And I want to get rid of this feeling. It’s hard to concentrate.” He coughs, and avoids your gaze for a moment, before staring back at you.

You fucking knew it. This asshole. Of course, this is what it is. He just wants his dick wet again, now that he’s had you. You scoff.

“Is that all this is for? Are you kidding me?” You frown at him and shake your head. “This is ridiculous.” You take a deep breath. “Will you leave me alone if we have sex?”

His expression twitches, and for some reason you feel like he is about to lie. “Yes, I suppose I can do that.”

You want to scream. You want to drag him to your room. You want to throw something. You settle on asking, “My room or yours?”

The two of you go to your room. He mutters about not having your scent in his room, and you shrug. You’re closer to yours anyway. 

When you enter the room, you start to strip off your clothing, anger clouding any shame. You can hear his noise of surprise, but make your way to the bed, ignoring him. Down to your bra and underwear, you sit on the bed, looking over him. 

“How are we doing this?” You want to poke at him over his comment from earlier, but decide not to. 

“I believe that I would like you in my lap. I’ve been having… dreams about it.” Alastor struggles to say it while unbuttoning his shirt. You quietly watch while processing his request. You’d have to be facing him. Can you do that? Would looking at his face prevent orgasm, or would it not matter? You hum, and nod.

“Alright. No kissing though.” He acquiesces, and settles onto the edge of the bed, shucking off his pants. His briefs are loose, and black. 

“Where should I be?” His question is asked softly, and it makes you hesitate to be mean. You decide to just focus on the act, and not who he is. It’s better that way, isn’t it? 

“Do you want me riding, or actually in your lap? If you want the former, just lie down. For the latter, sit up, settle against the headboard.” You gesture with your hands, and stand up to remove your undergarments. He eyes your motions as he sits against the headboard. You internally sigh. You really wish that isn’t what he wanted. 

He’s still wearing his briefs when you settle into his lap. His legs are bony, and they press awkwardly against your ass, so you wriggle to get comfortable. Alastor’s hands, thin and graceful, and incredibly sharp at the ends, settle on your hips. (You have to beg your mind not to focus on the fact that you’ll likely have a new set of bruises, overlapping prettily with the last set). 

Alastor’s head is level with yours, the tall bastard, so you turn yours into the crux of his neck, and sigh. Alright, you’re doing this again. You can do it. It doesn’t matter that you really want to punch him. His dick is kind of nice. You can do this. 

You roll your hips against him, starting a gentle rhythm. His fingers squeeze you, and you can tell he’s holding back. His grip is soft, and his thumbs rub back and forth, tracing a lazy pattern into your skin. You take a deep breath in, and immediately regret it. His scent is incredibly strong at his neck. It feels overwhelming, and you have to blink repeatedly to drive the dizziness away. 

The gentle rhythm of your hips eventually makes it clear that he’s getting hard. His thumbs hesitate every couple of thrusts, as if the feeling was too much for him to even lazily move his fingers back and forth. His cock rubbing against you, even through two layers of fabric, is kind of nice, you have to admit. Alastor feels nice, and the warmth of him is enjoyable too. You can’t tell if you are trying to convince yourself, or if that is how you actually feel. You don’t get to find out, because his hands grip down harder.

“Can I rock your hips, dearest?” His voice is rough, and the sudden noise makes you glance at him. His gaze is fuzzy, and he seems unfocused. The look wrecks you; he’s being vulnerable, the bastard, and you can barely look at him. You barely manage a nod, but his sharp grin is your reward.

His tight grip on your hips shifts just a little lower, to the crux of your hips and outer thighs. He presses you down onto his erection, and rocks you against him. The easy way he moves your whole body reminds you of the strength in his lithe body. You can’t help the admiration you feel, although it is quickly drowned out by the rocking of your body.

“Ma bichette, you feel so good,” he whispers. He presses you down rougher, and it feels as if he’s trying to slide into you through the scraps of fabric dividing you. ��I want to feel you, dearest. I want to fill you and hold you. Je veux vous faire plaisir, mon cœur. You are so good for me, let me make you feel good.”

You rear up, pressing your hands against his chest as your eyes widen in shock. He absolutely pushed too far. That upsetting feeling from your heat is back. You can feel tears pricking at your eyes again. He is being far too nice, but you love it. You want him to make you feel good, want him to call you nice things. The anger that festers in your belly, that ever present loathing is blanketed by desire for him, and you give in. 

“Okay,” you quietly reply. Alastor’s eyes flutter, and then he is lifting you up on your knees, and attempting to remove your underwear. You assist him, and then sit back to let him remove his own. You settle back in his lap, your naked sex against his cock. The heat lifts a groan from you. You look at him, take in the mess of his hair, the set of his eyes, and you frown. “No kissing,” you remind him. You can’t let him cross that boundary. You’ve only kissed people you loved, and you hate him. Obviously. 

There’s a twitch of his brows, but he assents. His large hands settle back on you. One sits flush against the front of your thighs, and his thumb brushed against the hood of your clit. You gently huff, and roll your hips against him. Alastor’s hips twitch, and he groans.

His touch is perfectly coordinated, his eyes settled on your flushed, and quickly growing wet, sex. His teeth separate, and you can feel his hot breath fan across your face. It doesn’t smell the way you thought it might. 

“You are a sight, my dear. So pretty. I want to fill you, and see how far that blush of yours spreads.” His eyes flick up to your face, briefly, and then he's focused on the tight circles of his thumb on your clit. 

You don’t have the time to think of a response, because he’s pressing harder. White noise fills your ears, and with a single sharp thrust of his hips against yours, you feel your body clenching down on nothing. Your head tilts back, and your hands reach out, trying to grasp onto anything. You find purchase on his shoulders, and dig your blunted claws in, letting out a cry. You can hear Alastor’s grunt, but can barely focus on it. He just keeps circling his thumb. 

“Yes! Ma douce! Cum for me, dearest.” His other hand presses you down against him, and he thrusts up against your wet heat. 

You let out a harsh breath, his name slipping from clenched teeth. “Alastor – please!”

He lifts you, just slightly, your thick slick stringing between the two of you, and he uses one hand to guide his cock. “Just a moment, my doe.”

And finally, his erection is pressing into you, your slick letting him slide in with only just a bit of resistance. When your bodies finally sit flush, you both let out sighs. You forgot just how full he made you feel, and it hadn’t even been terribly long.

You take a deep breath, barely making eye contact with him, (how can you? He’s got this expression that’s nigh on impossible to name), and then you lift your hips. It’s that first drag that nearly knocks you over. You can feel his cock dragging against your velvety insides. Even with how wet you are, the friction is overwhelming. 

Your breath comes out in stutters, and your thighs shake with the effort to not just drop back down on him. Your hands on his shoulders clench, and then you settle back down. His resulting groan makes you clench. You’re still so sensitive from him getting you off first, so you shake with the effort to keep riding him. 

“Dearest,” Alastor says, his hot breath fanning across your face. “Would you like some help?”

You lock your gaze with him and drop on his dick rather harshly, and his eyes flutter. His hands flex, claws lightly grazing your skin. He’s being so careful, and it bothers you. 

“What does ‘help’ look like to you?” You ask, your residual anger tinting your words. Are you not going fast enough for his liking?

His hips thrust up, just enough to spear you further, and you rock your hips in response. The heat, the fullness, it keeps knocking the breath out of you. It’s so unfair. You need him just as off-kilter as you are. (But isn’t he already? Your head is fuzzy. You aren’t thinking straight).

One of his hands reaches up and cradles the back of your head, and then the world is shifting around you. Your thighs are slotted over his hips nicely, and the hand that had been holding your head is propping him up. You’re on your back. (How did he do that so effortlessly? He seems so experienced – it’s a thought that suddenly makes you unhappy). 

“Worry not, dearest. You were spectacular, but I’m losing my marbles.” He rolls his hips against yours, and you clench your eyes closed. It’s overwhelming. The heat is pooling in your navel, and there’s this fuzzy feeling to your hands and feet. You can practically feel his static scattering over the surface of your skin. “Yes, you are very good, mon cœur. I cannot get enough.”

His words make your eyes open, just a touch, and you gaze up at him. His eyes are already searching for yours, and the soft smile he’s giving you – you feel like you’re going to throw up. How could he do this to you? He doesn’t get to be such a dick, then go on and fuck you within an inch of your sanity while praising you. It’s not fair. 

Alastor starts thrusting his hips, his ears bouncing just a little at the effort. He’s on his knees, and the hand on your hip squeezes every other thrust. You can smell the musk the two of you make, and it has you dizzy. It’s a nice smell, but you know it’ll never wash out of your sheets. You might have to just change rooms when all is said and done. 

He suddenly shifts, settling further back on his knees, and both of his hands are lifting you up. “Is this alright, my doe?” He asks as he lifts your knees to his shoulders. 

Your eyes widen. He’s going to hit spots in you that you’ve probably never felt. His cock is already large, but this position is going to ruin you. However, you just can’t say no. You aren’t sure if it’s the way he’s looking at you, or the fact that you’re barely in your own head. With a rough swallow, you nod. 

He pants, and then you’re folded in on yourself, your slit snug against him, thighs cradling his head. His arms framed your head, and his weight pressed down on you. Each breath the two of you took was hard, and they mingled in the space between you. His forehead pressed against yours, and he kept your gaze as he began his rhythm again. 

Your hands could no longer be kept in check. What little of him you could reach was quickly grabbed onto for dear life. You were panting, and every drag of his cock had your walls quivering. 

For a moment all you could hear was the wet sound of your bodies rocking together, and the harsh breaths each of you took, but then you heard it. He was muttering to himself.

“Al- Alastor, what?” You asked quietly. Another harsh thrust of his hips and you moaned, your mind briefly dragged away from the thought. 

“Just singing your praise, dearest.” His left hand lifted just slightly, and his thumb rubbed against your cheek to the rhythm of his snapping of his hips. “You are wonderful. I just adore this with you. You are ever so soft, and tight, my doe.” 

You startle, eyes locked back on him. His smile is crooked, and he looks so genuine. That deep, angry ache is back in your chest, and it nearly clouds the lust and the wonderful sensations he’s flooding you with. 

“Je te veux. Je ne veux personne d'autre que toi. Je veux que tu aies envie de moi. Pourquoi ne le fais-tu pas?” He whispers to you in words you cant understand, but his eyes are fuzzy, and his smile is small, and soft. Alastor cups your face ever so softly, and he rocks his hips roughly against yours.

Suddenly the pace he sets is incredibly fast, and you can feel that tightness building again. You scratch at him, barely able to get air into your lungs. You can’t focus on much more than the deep heat beneath your navel, and the furrow of his brows. (Some small part of you wants to ease it with your fingers). 

His grip on your face tightens a smidgen, and then he rolls his hip and takes his right hand to rub at your clit. His thumb is in tight circles again, and he’s clenching his teeth and all your limbs go tingly and–

Everything is white-hot. There are lightning bolts zipping down your spine, making your back arch. Your mouth is open, but the buzzing in your ears makes it impossible to tell if you’re making any noise.

He’s still moving, but he’s reaching for your face, too. He cups it, his large hands holding you still as his cock continues slamming into you. Alastor is muttering again, but you can only tell from the movement of his lips. His mouth opens, a harsh pant leaving him before his body stills suddenly. His teeth clack shut, and he curls into you, the head of his cock brushing your cervix. You’re still dealing with the aftershocks of your orgasm, and can barely comprehend the feeling. It’s nearly too much. 

He’s breathing hard, and he just barely sits back. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. His thumb brushes the skin just underneath your eyes, and there is a wistful smile on his face. He seems so far away, and you can’t comprehend why. Isn’t this what he wanted?

You’re about to ask when he slots his lips over yours. He’s warm, and his lips are soft. It only lasts a moment, and then he’s gone. 

You’re left empty, messy, and alone. 

You sit up in the darkness of your room, glancing around. 

“Alastor?”

I will post on my blog, giving an update. Feel free to check it out if you're wondering what's been so long.

[dino--draws]

[VIBRATES AT A SPEED SOMEWHERE CLOSE TO SOUND] YEEEAAHHHH!!!! THE CASUALITIES. FUCKERS IN THE CROSSFIRE.

OR JUST LIKE. RIGHT FUCKIN THERE IN THE THICK OF IT. THEY NEVER HAD A CHANCE!! THEY NEVER HAD A CHOICE!

I am. So full of Big Thoughts.

ngl i think about how like. really really fucked up the little girl Nobody is like. A Lot. It's never explicitly talked about how fucked up it was but oh my godddd the IMPLICATIONS alone are enough. That was a CHILD that thing ate away at. That was like a 10-12 year old?? and what fucks me up is that she GREW UP LIKE THAT. She grows up over the course of like. I like three articles and it's implied that she reached adulthood (Update because I'm Normal I checked the dates on SCP-5877 and it was AT LEAST FOURTEEN YEARS that she was Nobody. JESUS CHRIST.) That poor kid grew up completely alone, fending for herself with her only """company""" being an entity that's eating her god damn mind and taking over. Shits fucked its fucked as hell but I chew on it. Gnaws even. Nobody what the FUCK is wrong with you. I mean a laundry list of things probably but what the hell.

SLAMS HANDS ON TABLE. It's Time.

The Man in the White Suit series could be read as an allegory for war and how that so deeply fucks up everyone involved IN THIS ESSAY I WILL—

Part 1 of this mess of a ramble!! General Thematics! This series fuckin loves using this shit as a backdrop. Fritz Obermeyer essentially sells his soul to the Nobody entity in the trenches of war, Chiaroscuro is ENTIRELY backdropped to World War (I think?) II, throughout SCP-5353 they’re a busting a German war criminal, exposing corruption, causing riots, and trying to locate things related to WWII (also a handful of other stuff in that file can def contribute to the allegory but to save adding like two more paragraphs I don't know how much the tumblr ask system can handle) in their search for Fritz if I'm recalling properly. AND I don’t remember if it’s Whitesuit or Nobody but ONE OF THEM explicitly refers to their conflict with the other AS A WAR. THEY CALL IT A WAR.

Next up? SCP-5877, just in general. When I fiiirst read this series last year this entry had briefly confused me before I realized they’re meant to be people the Nobody entity chewed the identities of like a particularly destructive dog and then abandoned once it was done with them. HOWEVER they also really contributed to this whole reading as an allegory. They’re a large chunk of population who can’t be perceived until they turn up DEAD. Twin stillborns when there was only one child detected (nnnoot even getting into the implications behind THAT), bodies in a plane crash strapped overtop of other passengers. It’s eerie. The whole intro part of that article is incredibly unsettlingly but similarly tragic. They’re people. They are people caught in the crossfire of Nobody and Whitesuit’s little war. Their nature makes them naught but nameless and faceless statistics. Numbers on a spreadsheet. They are causality to a conflict they did not wish for. And in their deaths they are reduced to nothing but a number. Causalities. Like a ticking toll of deaths in war. A cruel price that those fighting will either seldom acknowledge, or deny. I can go further and point out they were “drafted” by an entity beyond their understanding to be a puppet. A foot soldier in it’s eldritch quest for what it claims to be a greater good. But what happens to a puppet when the strings are suddenly cut? When their “purpose” comes to curtain call? They are lost. They are scared. They are never the same.

Another point for this reading of the story is Fritz in the coda and this builds off of the last bit. He’s free from the Nobody entity but he’s,,,, out of time. Displaced. He’s a man from the god damn 1930s the narration remarks how he's probably the only man from his time STILL ALIVE. Its the fucking 2070s. Everything that man knows is GONE and CHANGED and he is scared and alone and confused and hey this sounds like what happens when people return from WAR. No longer in touch with what's happening, and ungodly levels of traumatized by what they’ve endured— never the same. Fritz, honey, please seek therapy. Actually all of them should. Please guys. Holy shit. 

To harken back to the coda again there's a line that goes “There didn’t have to be a grand plan, an artful ending. Just the march of life.” There’s no glory, there’s no final fight of confrontation, at the end of the day it's just people — it’s just scared, manipulated people trying to fight for SOMETHING to give themselves meaning after tragedy stripped them of all they are. 

And hell, what is Whitesuit if not an amalgam of a handful of 5877 instances that came together and wanted to fight against the horrid thing that made them the way they are. He is a literal embodiment of destruction that Nobody leaves in its wake, like a wraith or ghost. Fitting for a man dressed in white. He is an angry, mourning entity lashing out in hopes of stopping what’s happened to him (them?) from happening to more people- but in the process is just fanning flames. The retaliation sparks war. The creation of a century spanning cycle of violence and revenge.

To make a similar point to the paragraph about the SCP-5877 instances, the Maliz family too are caught in the crossfire of Nobody and Whitesuit’s fight against each other. And it's implied to occur across generations. Hester Maliz, and her grandson Tyler are the main focus. Funnily enough I remember an exchange between Hester and Nobody where he chastises her for enrolling Tyler in a Foundation program at such a young age. He calls it a brainwashing fascist boot camp. Nobody goes on to threaten Hester with how the future of the Foundation will turn it to more militarism, fewer compromises, and corruption. A machine that will cement an empire. For history repeats itself time and time again. War never changes (funny fallout line, laugh now).

And all of this is fucking rich to hear from the entity that’s been possessing people and bending them to its will and goals the whole story. For no matter how noble the entity may think its own goals, it too is a frightful machine. Whitesuit even remarks to Hester prior to her exchange with Nobody: "think about what the Foundation would be like if it had all the drive in the world and no purpose, doing things and hurting people just because that's what they'd always done. Like an automaton." Nobody too is an element of war enforcing something very few understand. For the entity is blind to this (or perhaps just uncaring), just as Whitesuit perhaps is. They are two entities caught up in a cycle of horrible violence without much acknowledgment of who they hurt and who is caught in the crossfire. Tyler Maliz tries to stop them, but his efforts to do this culminate in something perhaps cruel when he turns to try and stop Nobody and Whitesuit from ending this war through the Name Machine.

Which is something he fails in. But hell, even then it's not the true end, despite it closing the story. Nobody and Whitesuit are gone, but the effects of their actions will linger like a horrid specter over the survivors. Things will not be the same again. But life marches on, does it not? It won't be the same, but an attempt to move on and heal can be made.

This series doesn’t really end in a victory. It ends in survivors trying to pick up their own pieces.

Hey, just like war. 

Jesus christ this was way longer than I thought it would be LMAO. Hi I’m Dino--Draws and I am so fucking autistic about this series. Have this 1,000+ word borderline essay/ramble about thematics and allegories.

oh sweet zombie jesus that's a lot of words

this is a really good breakdown! i admittedly can't really answer how much of the war allegory was on purpose, since The Man in the White Suit wasn't written by me alone -- but I can say that a lot of the elements you're talking about were deliberate decision. the idea was definitely that Nobody is this abstract thing that hijacks people for its own purposes, completely apathetic to whatever lives they have going on, and then throws them away when it's done, leaving a husk behind. and Whitesuit is this amalgamation of husks that have decided to Do Something About It, but is he really any better? he also doesn't give a shit about collateral damage, he's more than willing to hurt and kill people to get what he wants (Nobody, dead).

so, sure, on a grander scale the series is very much about the casualties of conflicts -- not necessarily war, but that's certainly a valid way to read it. all the faceless nobodies left behind after these two tear through their lives, just trying to pick up the pieces and form themselves back into Somebody. the coda, one of my favorite articles on the site in general, goes into this; after Whitesuit 'splodes, his constituent parts don't really feel liberated or filled with relief. his mission was never their mission. they just want to live the lives they missed out on because they got drafted into a cosmic war they never had a chance in.

i'm really glad someone enjoyed the series enough to think about it this much; it's one of my favorite things i've written. thank you for the Big Thoughts 💙

[cerastes]

Do you think at some point early on in Arknights the intent was to be a buildup to a more critical look at Rhodes as more morally grey than it first appears? Because when I started the game I was so sure that's where it was going. Popukar probably being one of the first characters you get, the idea of SWEEP, the understanding I had at the time of darknights doctor and y'know, the villains being who they are. I just thought it would be more of a thing.

I don't think necessarily, I think the intent was always to posit Rhodes Island as "as good as you can get while still being a relatively major power but not quite as big or resourceful as a state". I do think it bears mentioning that child soldiers/children and teenagers with a job as a concept don't seem to really carry a stigma as they do in the real world: The only real times in which these are painted in negative lights are when the conditions or results of these decisions end up in something negative:

Popukar was clearly indentured labor at the lumberyard. The part that's condemned is that she was miserable and practically a slave, not really that she was working per se, and she's given a job by RI later after Kal'tsit personally gets her out of there.

Frostleaf's being a child soldier even before Rhodes Island isn't really all that condemned, the effects it had on her psyche is.

Absinthe, just orphaned, is made a Rhodes Island Operator. This notion isn't rejected or truly contested, no more than "maybe we can send her somewhere proper for care". Hell, all the Ursus kids also get made into Operators.

Even outside of this, we hire children frequently: Bubble, Suzuran, Shamare, you name it. Sure, each has a context, especially Shamare who is Fucking Haunted, but the matter of the fact is that Rhodes Island isn't just housing them, it's also showing no real qualms with them taking the Operator Testing Battery and, if they succeed, hiring them. It's mentioned several times that Rhodes Island has many non-combat roles -- Angelina used to be a Messenger for Rhodes Island before taking the Operator test, Orchid was offered a desk job at Rhodes Island initially, and Weedy was a Rhodes Island researcher who explicitly worked out and trained so she could pass the physical components of the test -- but there's no real turn of eyes when a child says mmmm yeah I'll do the Battlefield Supporter Battery please, thank you.

Amiya is, you know, the CEO of Rhodes Island, and that IS pointed out in a "damn, fucked up" way, but what's being lamented is not her having a job, it's her having a BIG difficult job. I think no one would bat an eye if Amiya was a regular Operator under Theresa instead (granted, because she's the owner's daughter, but even without that link).

These are some examples of in-universe logic regarding the whole child soldier and kid with a job. I'd wager it's because life expectancy in Terra is pretty damn low from what we've gathered: Armed conflict, crime, Catastrophes, Oripathy, there's plenty of ways to kick the bucket in Terra, much like it was in Ye Olde Ages in real life, which is coincidentally an era in which by 16 you already were an adult and were expected to start having adult responsibilities.

Pre-Amnesia Doctor was definitely not a stellar person but it's always understood that they weren't bad as much as broken: Scout put it best that it broke his heart to have seen this kind educator and fun, loving individual become a heartless tactician. Even when described this way, though, it wasn't like Doc became this Brooding Evil Mass, it's still mentioned plenty that they were pretty beloved by most people and a person they liked being friends with -- Ace, Scout, and Amiya all corroborate this, and in flashbacks, you have Theresa being pretty warm with Doc -- but if you were a footsoldier, Doctor was probably your worst nightmare because you were disposable -- W, Ines, Hoederer and Flamebringer can tell you as much -- so we had less a villain or a vile individual and more a broken individual who was remolded into someone that could withstand the immense psychological pressure that came with having their role. That's not to sanitize pre-amn Doctor, it's to echo the game's own words on them as per the characters in the setting that knew them from back then, and who held both positive and negative opinions on them.

Looking at all of these from an in-universe lens, they all have coherent in-universe explanations. I also think they would have foreshadowed any sort of Rhodes Island Insiduous Vileness with characters or actions by now: Less than stellar, antagonistic high command, dubious orders to do some vile stuff, other such things. The closest we get to this is Kal'tsit hating Doctor's guts, but also Kal'tsit is a really good person and her hatred of Doctor stems from her knowing them pre-amnesia, seeing how that happened, and what Doc did in those times, particularly one big event that's pretty lore relevant.

You may have noticed the elephant in the room [SPOILERS FOR PEOPLE NOT DONE WITH THE REUNION ARC YET]: I didn't address the enemy part yet. That's because that's the part that I still have some conflicted feelings over: The real enemy, in the end, isn't Reunion's ideals -- which are shared with Rhodes Island -- but rather it's what Reunion has become, a false flag operation for the Ursus Empire to justify a war. On one hand, I like that, on the other, I do think it's something that should've been more graciously hinted at in the very early chapters, because in those very early chapters, you REALLY are rent-a-cops in essence, putting down the people you set out to help. Of course, it's not that simple and there's a nuance as to why and the business dealings and all that, but given the relative simplicity and pace of the early chapters, it really is easy to see it come across that way.

It does, however, ring consistent with what we were previously talking about, though: The essence of, more than the act or thing in itself. Or, in other words, in Terra, the onus of things seem to be placed on the result or context surrounding something more than that something in itself: Child soldiers are fine, unhappy and in-risk child soldiers are not. Teenagers with jobs are fine, teenagers with huge stressful jobs way out of their league are not. Revolutionary movements are fine, revolutionary movements with civilian casualties are not. And so on. There is DEFINITELY commentary that can be had about this, mind you, but that can be for another post in another blog.

With this in mind, I go back to what was first said in this post, I think the idea was always to posit Rhodes Island as "as good as you can get while still being a relatively major power but not quite as big or resourceful as a state".

[alastorsfuckassbob]

Vulnerable

Alastor x Fem!Reader- Part 3

WELCOME TO THE LOWKEY FAN SERVICEY PORTION OF OUR BROADCAST🗣️! Sorry for the long wait..uh ANYWAY- Its just a silly little steamy make out session I felt like writing lowkey unnecessarily added into the plot. Its character development This is done mostly on the grounds of I felt bad for being slow with the plot and wanted to give you radio demon lovers out there some crumbs.<3

✨The plot✨(these are getting worse as we go)

Our depressed dear y/n self deprecates in front of a "hang in there" kitten poster. before bitching about the cold on her walk home.Oh shit her house is broken into. In this life its just you and your shitty pocket knife. Nvm its a cool dress! She then spends a good half hour thinking about their old relationship's spicy times.

⚠️WARNINGS⚠️

-Mentions of domestic violence

-Mentions of alcohol

-Fuckass Val

-A little make-out sesh (smut is scary so you can use your little imagination to figure out what happens after)

Mornings in hell were colder than one might expect, despite the nearly constant blaze of sinner set fire. At its heart, Hell was frigidly cold, especially at night. A part of you had gotten used to the way it clawed deeply against your skin. However, the other part of you secretly begged to some god somewhere you didn't quite believe in to make the sun rise a little faster. It wasn't necessary by any means, Hell wasn't anything more than a desert. All you had to do was wait. The crisp morning would lose its glacial influence as the sunlight reached out to touch it just as it always did. You just needed to be patient. You take in a deep breath, attempting to let go of your displeasure.The sharp frosty air pierced your lungs, unknitting the last strings of warmth from your skin on impact. Your teeth began to chatter. You curl into the softness of your wings, it wasn't much, but it helped.

From your recently awakened slumber, you had briefly forgotten the events of the night before. However, upon seeing angel slumped in bed beside from you, the realisation took root. The recollection flattened your heart like a careless truck running over a measly stray bit of garbage

Your performance last night was nothing more than a falsified forgery. It was adorned with the typical strokes and details found in your normal act, but it was so hopelessly fake. Valentino could always tell when you were phoning it in. Despite his fraudulent demeanour, he demanded authenticity from you. After your previous..altercation, you just didn't have it in you to thread your harsh edges in salacious intent. You were an excellent dancer, but you hated the prying eyes that glued themselves onto your figure. Val wouldn't be happy with that. You were already voiceless, he already owned your soul. He couldn't physically take much more, but he could still make your life a relentless nightmare. The punishments he so easily gave out always had a creatively cruel flair. The thoughts brought on a familiar uneasiness. You could take whatever he threw at you, you wouldn't like it but you would endure. You didn't have to like it. Your grounds were barren in the terms of genuine will. You didn't have a reason to keep living, you just refused to die. You would endure until the red toned city around you pathetically crumbled back into the ground. You would watch the world you lived in reflect the terms of your anguish in twisted perfection over and over again...All by the hands of Valentino. You couldn't do much else. Your dimly lit soul had grown more accustomed to calloused hands and absinthe than you wanted to admit..It was just the way of things.

Great now you were cold and stressed out.

Your mind drifted to Angel. His crumpled hair and soft arms outstretched in your direction. The night before, he had spilled a glass of gin soaked secrets, revealing more than you expected him to. His drunken tears leaked into the brimstone walls of your heart. You learned his name was Anthony in life among other things. He probably didn't remember opening up to you, you were surprised you did.

He had been in Hell much longer than you had been..he had been with Valentino much longer than you had..years longer. The thought held more pain than your sore bruise lined body could feel.

Valentino had the poor habit of misguiding his frustration. As much as you pissed him off, your groans of pain just weren't as satisfying as Angels. Even if Val dragged your limp body across the studio, his nails dug deeply into the flesh of your skull, he wouldn't be satisfied if he didn't hurt Angel too. You couldn't help but wonder how he put up with it all. He was a lot stronger than people give him credit for. How long had Angel been his favourite toy? How many other souls tied to Valentino fucked up as you so often did? How did he deal with the brunt of that frustration tipped in his direction? How many times was he hurt because you didn't give Val what he wanted?

He was an angry disagreeable man he would always find some excuse to take that out on others.You knew that, you just hadn't stopped to think how many times had you been the excuse he used to justify how he treated Angel. Your hand brushed a stray strand of hair from his peaceful face. You didn't want to cause him any more pain.

Angel at least looked warm. He still slept soundly curled up towards the edge of the bed. His legs were neatly cocooned into a pile of various blankets. You stretched, shaking the sleep from your eyes and the fog from your brain.

You stood up glancing back on his sleeping form. A part of you felt bad for leaving Angel wordlessly.. His night wasn't great either, even if it was your fault, you could still help make it better. You could also make it worse. You couldn't risk that. He would get over your sudden absence, but what if you said the wrong thing and he hated you for it. He should hate you, after all it was your fault the night went to shit.

I mean even if for some reason he didn't want you to leave, it would be easier if he didn't have to explain why you're here to the literal princess of hell. Its not like you could tell her yourself. You'd rather walk home a bit early and save him the trouble.

You glance at the digital clock stationed on his nightstand, It read 5am. Hopefully the other residents of the hotel weren't early risers. that would really be hard to explain.

You walked into his bathroom to at least attempt to make yourself a bit more presentable. You let out the breathy shell of a laugh; amused by the emotionally supportive posters and positive notes that adorn the wall around the sink. He was trying in some way, he was trying to make the best of things. He didn't have anyone to remind him it was going to be okay besides the small grey kitten saying "hang in there". on one of the larger posters. You pick up a note in Angel's swirled handwriting

"You're hot in more ways than just physically! Nice ass but nicer everything else"

It was a little silly, but it made you feel better for a second. Your eye gets caught on your hellish exterior in the mirror. God- you looked rough.

The mascara stains under your eyes did nothing but highlight the heavy bags that already resided there. Your hair had awkwardly shifted back into its natural texture in some places and erupted in frizz in others. You were still wearing that burlesque outfit Valentino had picked for you. Russet red dried blood and what you assumed to be half a fruity cocktail stained the front. You looked like an extra in a poorly funded zombie film.

Ironically the outfit had been one of your favorites before then. It reminded you of Alastor- big surprise there- almost everything does at this point.

The cut of the top and the off shoulder sleeves reminded you of the dress he had bought you to celebrate your new part time gig singing at that little bar downtown. The outfit's color reflected it marvelously as well- sadly the similarities seemed to end there. The outfit had numerous cut outs and a slit up each side. It didn't leave much to the imagination, but those subtle details kept it in your good graces. Not that it mattered, it was practically ruined now. Maybe you thought too deeply, but it started to feel painfully ironic.

You had sewn into the outfit memories of an ill-fated gentle romance and a shared cup of camomile tea, but ultimately it doesn't change what it really was, stained with the shadow of lust...Just as you had been.

The outfit would never truly resemble that dress. Even if you found an ounce of similarity. Even if you dragged it to the tailor and used its corroded bones to recreate the dress exactly.They weren't the same, they could never be.

You weren't the same.

You hadn't been for quite some time.

In the end, it wouldn't matter if he would ever consider accepting you in the condition you're in. Your skin will always sustain the weight of Valentino's hand. The vulnerability in your soul had been sparked by fear as opposed to love. Whats done is done. Even if you had been crafted with the object of love in mind your heart had been distorted beyond the point of recognition, it could never really be the same again.

With that, you didn't want him to find you anymore. It would be worse to watch him fall out of love with you as he realised you weren't the same. The love you had so protectively harboured in your heart for the devilish man was cut loose. It drifted away into the rotting sea of your soul surrounding it. You couldn't bring yourself to tear down the post you had previously tied it to. Even if you told yourself you couldn't love him any longer, the hole he left in your heart was too large for your will to cover.

You shrug on the coat you had slung on the floor before crashing last night and slide on your shoes.

You grab a pen from Angel's desk-if you could even call it that. It was nothing more than an old bar stool with a jar of pens and a pink glittery notepad. You scrawled a simplistic message. You didn't want him to worry about you. Even if he said he didn't care, he was sensitive. You didn't want to hurt him any more than you had already.

" Hey Angie! I went home- don't worry I wasn't kidnapped! Eat something for breakfast or I swear to god I'll make you eat an eyebrow pencil next time I see you..Love ya lots<3" Your handwriting was a bit messier than normal but it did the job okay.

You walked to the door, opening it it quietly, the lock behind you clicking as you shut the door to Angel Dust's room.

Finding your way out of the hotel was trickier than you expected but nothing you couldn't manage. Once outside you began to shiver. You tugged your coat tightly against your skin, not that it helped much. You refused to fly in such icy temperatures. The wind would be far less intrusive at a slower speed.

The walk from your apartment to the hotel was a little over an hour. Perhaps if you weren't so hung over it wouldn't have taken you as long.The sun just begun to peak out from the horizon, simultaneously allowing enough space for the nightly wind to have free passage, and the blinding light of the sun to assault your eyes; your own special little fuck you from the universe.

The steps up leading to your third floor flat were much steeper than you had previously recalled. Hauling your body up them took a lot more energy than you care to admit. Out of breath and slightly sweaty you were finally headed down towards your room.

Your steps creak in harmony with the ancient building's crumbling walls. You glance down the hallway at what you had hoped would be a chance to decompress.

You stop abruptly a few units from your own. The door was ajar. You pull a short pocket knife from the side of your shoe. The rusted knob looked no worse than it already did. The lock however, featured a few more scratches than you recalled.

You were too tired for this bullshit, You hadn't actually used a knife before. Stabbing people seemed like an intuitive thing to do, but your inexperience left you drenched in anxiety. Nothing within you wanted to go inside, but your legs begged for rest. There really wasn't any use in preventing the inevitable. Eventually you would go inside or whoever was inside would come out. Either way its stab or be stabbed. The door whines as you slide yourself inside. You knew the situation was dangerous, all you had was a shitty knife you mostly used to open packages. If someone was here to kill you..without your voice no one would even know. You pushed the thought aside. You could still run. You could still fly. You weren't hopeless.You crept throughout the apartment with the knife raised steadily in front of you- ready to fight whatever had arrived.. Nothing ever came. By the first two rooms you had lost your concern. It was just how you left it. You stepped into your bathroom, locking the door behind you. You must have just forgotten to close the door behind you the day before.

You glanced around the bathroom before you noticed it was not in the disrepair you'd left it in. A fresh bouquet of roses sat neatly in the vase, the old dried flowers tied and hung above them to use in your next bath. The radio you had so unfortunately melted been replaced by an antique model adorned in golden trim and a stained glass depiction of a small canary. Lastly, a neatly wrapped vermillion box sat on the opposite side of your vanity, a wax sealed envelope tucked between the box and the large velvety bow.

This was a bit ( really fucking) weird. Curiosity over took you as you reached for the dark inky envelope.

You trace the underside of the waxy seal with the edge of your knife, effectively tearing it from the envelopes dark paper. You unfolded the letter unsure where something like this would even come from. You had admirers, but anything they said or gifted to you went through Valentino first. He was the only one he deemed fit to give or take anything from you. He was greedy in the gifts he received and thoughtless in the gifts he gave. None of this felt thoughtless.

Dearest y/n,

I believe it is time you were compensated for all that I have put you through these past two days. I believe you would simply sparkle in this color. If it is to your liking, please wear it tonight. I hope to see you there.

With love,

-Yours truly

Val had gifted you dresses and other fashions in the past, more for his own satisfaction than as a reward. He rarely wrote the notes himself or even delivered the gift. He left it up to an unlucky assistant or just threw the garment in your face in passing.. Nothing about this felt like anything he would do. Perhaps one of his newer assistants didn't get the memo he is a massive piece of shit.

Regardless, you were curious to see what odd fantasy you were fulfilling tonight. You untied the ribbon. Upon lifting the lid, you realised today was going to end up much stranger than you'd hoped. Nothing about this made sense. The dress reminded you of something you might have worn out in your younger days..Was Val planning some weird 20s fetish night or just attempting to fuck with you? He knew the details of your past, with the exception of Alastor's involvement. Perhaps it was some form of psychological warfare you didn't understand.

Upon closer inspection , the dress was astoundingly quite tasteful. You pulled the item from the box pleased it kept going. Usually if the purchased dress was "too long" it would be cut short before it arrived in your hands, causing you a stressful few hours with your sewing machine fixing seams and hem lines.

You slid of the shell of your dirtied clothes and stepped into the dress. It fit you like a glove. The familiar 1920's silhouette and subtle inclusion of art deco threatened to pull you back into your old habits. It really was a gorgeous dress. The beaded scarlet fabric clung to your hips before slightly flaring at your knees. It sported a neckline adorned with crystals that dipped off of your shoulders and into the sleeves The back of the dress scooped down to your lower back a deeper toned train following it. Despite your otherwise disheveled appearance, you felt beautiful.

You look down at the red fabric pooling behind you, you don't want it to, but your mind begins to shift.

1929: New Orleans: The Bar

Your hands shake more than you wished they would, no matter how many times you sang here it always left you feeling anxious. The music sways in tandem with the bars patrons, mimicking the constant lull of conversation. You began to sing.Your voice cuts through the clinking of glasses and exhilarating cheers with a crystalline ring. You glance over to the bar in view of Alastor. His eyes trapped in a half lidded love led daze, filled with nothing but adoration for you.

You glance back down at your hands. They are covered in black velvet, contrasted by a simple pearl bracelet hanging loosely from your wrist. It was one of the many from Alastor on your birthday earlier that year. You had insisted it was far too much, and he insisted you were making far too big a deal of it. He wanted you to feel appreciated and loved, what better way to accomplish that than with a meaningful gift.

He wasn't fantastic with words when it came to you. His hands craved contact with your own. The sentiment he needed to convey didn't fully exist within the bounds of english, or french for that matter. You were worth more than any riches the world could offer you. He could spend his nights bottling starlight and collecting bits of moon and lay them at your feet, and he still wouldn't feel like it was enough. His mind drifted to your past. You were private with the majority of the details. He had collected the story over time from thoughtless anecdotes you mentioned in passing. He knew life before him hadn't been kind.Your mother had died during your birth, but her face stayed firmly in your grasp. Your father hated you for that reason, and he was not a pacifistic man. He felt you had taken the love of his life and left him alone with nothing more than a portrait you hadn't yet grown into. He had been sickly the majority of your life. The more you grew in likeness to your mother the less he fought to get better. He died when you were only 14, leaving you to fend for your siblings. You had raised them just as much as you raised yourself. If the world wasn't going to gift you a delicate existence. Alastor certainly would be. In that moment he vowed to make sure you never felt worried or lost ever again, he couldn't bare the thought of it.

He was shaken from his thoughts as the song climaxed into a loud jazzy finish. You glanced over at him again with a smile. You stepped down from the stage, the red fabric trailing behind you. You walked across the bar and into his arms. He instinctively wraps around your waist, his hand nestled into your own. The moment is pure ecstasy.

"If I could on pick one sound to hear for the rest of eternity it would be your darling voice mon cher" His honey toned voice whispered into your ear. You looked marvellous but the sound of your voice was entrancing.

Your eyes roll, a satirical air taking over your tone. "How many times did you rehearse that line Al?"

" Very evidently not enough. You've made i clear I needed a bit more rehearsal" His familiar sarcastic attitude evident in his tone. "For such a pretty face you have a hard time accepting a compliment"

You giggle into his chest.He placed a kiss against your forehead. Subconsciously you lean into his touch. You can't help but want to be closer to him. Your arms stretch around his neck effectively pulling him into a hug.

"My my, someones touchy this evening" his distinctive laugh following shortly after. It was the kind of laugh you could hear across a crowded room twenty years in the future and immediately know it was him. your hands travel to either side of his face, cupping it gently. Before you know it, your lips meet his. This kiss is slow and delicate at first. It is imbued with ever ounce of love you have ever felt for each other. His grasp on your waist tightens, pulling you in as close as humanly possible. The dark brown strands of his hair tangle into your hands. The kiss heats up faster than either of you care to admit before you finally register you're in public. He quickly composes himself, as do you. A sly smile stretches across his face. He glances down at your dress, his mind floating aimlessly searching for an excuse to be alone with you. Despite how deeply he loved you, he wasn't the type to display that in public. It felt a bit unsavoury. You were his and his alone.

"Darling, I think you may have torn your dress, during your wonderful performance. Would you allow me to help you fix it in a more, secluded location"

You looked down at your dress not entirely understanding what he meant. He always had your best interest in mind, perhaps he saw something you didn't. Besides, you didn't want to ruin the dress he bought you any further than you already had unknowingly.

"Oh I didn't realise it had torn. Of course, thank you love."

You take his hand in yours and lead him into the small dressing room. It was really just an extra office the owner had put a few mirrors, a changing screen, and vanity into. You stood in front of the taller of the two mirrors attempting to locate the tear.

"Alastor love, I don't see what you mean perhaps it was the ligh-"

Before you can finish your sentence his lips are pressed against your own. You lean into the kiss grasping onto his vest to steady yourself. You're caught in your own personal whirlwind. Your hands are glued against his sepia skin.

He breaks the kiss for a moment kissing the corner of your mouth trailing down your jaw and onto your neck. He sucks lightly against your skin

You're so precious to me y/n" his voice is deeper than it normally was. It held each desire he felt and simultaneously every ounce of adoration.

You let out a soft gasp as he lightly bites the side of your neck. He travels along it as your hands tangle themselves in his hair once more. God you didn't want this to end, but you wanted to feel closer to him. You drag him away from your neck placing your lips against his once more.Your hands trace the outline of his shoulders. His hands explore the curve of your spine and the softness of your waist. He lifts you up and sits you against the vanity. Subconsciously your legs wrap around his waist deepening the kiss. (scream)

"I have never loved someone the way I love you Alastor..thank you for letting me" You breathe out in between kisses.

He wasn't one to let people in. Not truly, he had a public persona and a private one. You were glad to get to know the esteemed radio host outside of the studio. You were so glad he let you seen him the way he was so afraid to be perceived as...Vulnerable.

A/N: LOL IM SORRY THAT ONE WAS KINDA SHORT. Also please let me know it the writing style and lengths are working. I've never really written before so Idk the right way to do this. Thanks for reading :) <3

-Also congrats to me for not using a song as the crutch to come up with a title.

[ironstrange1991]

Just As Good As I knew It Would Be

Pairing: Defender!Strange x SexWorker!Reader

Synopsis: It was supposed to be just another night with a new client, but Defender Strange was unlike any other and he definitely had other plans.

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: Descriptions of sex work, one or two use of the word 'whore', hickeys and lovebites, oral sex with male and female receiving, protected p n v sex.

A/N: This was planned to be a one shot, but I can easily see this story continuing, so it's up to you guys. Also, I was literary falling asleep over my laptop when I posted this so any typos or grammar errors I will fix tomorrow.

When the weight of his body left you and rolled to the side on the bed, you sighed in relief and also turned to the side, taking a cigarette from the package on the bedside table, lighting it and taking a long drag. It was still one o'clock in the morning and you had a client scheduled for 2:30 and before that you needed a long shower to get rid of all the sweat stuck to your skin.

He was a nice guy, plenty of money to spend since he paid for an hour with you almost every week. He was lonely and with the sweat problem you could understand why. You just couldn't remember his name. Andrew? No, Andrew was the one from last night. Nice guy, a little clingy but nice. Would it then be William? Fuck, it didn't matter anyway, you never called them by their names for that very reason.

Madam Elise always said that there was no other way to permanently lose a client than to call them by the wrong name. It's easier to call them all by the same pet name, she always says, and that's what you do. They were all Baby, for you. And they liked it very much.

"I would like you to stay the night with me." He murmured stroking your arm. "I like to think I'm more than just a client to you."

And didn't all of them like to think that way? You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes and took another drag from your cigarette.

"You're too good for this job. I can give you the stability you need..."

"Okay, baby, let's get one thing straight once and for all." You interrupted him, putting out your cigarette in the ashtray and getting up. "I'm not interested in a relationship. Certainly not with one of my clients. And I don't need a man to save me from the life I live because, surprise! I like this life.”

He remained silent, watching as you got dressed and when you finished putting on your shoes he stood up, took out his wallet and took out a few hundred bills.

"Baby, I don't deal with money. I thought you had paid at the club."

He nodded "I did. This is extra."

You smirked, taking the money and putting it inside your bag. "You spoil me."

He smiled. "You deserve it, Y/n. When will we see each other again?"

"Madam Elise takes care of my schedule. But from what I know, it's full until next weekend."

He seemed extremely disappointed.

"But I'm sure she can fit you in some night for an extra fee."

"Money is not a problem." He stated cupping your cheek and threatening to kiss you, but you were quick to pull away from him.

"Then I'll see you next week. Take care."

"My driver will take you back to the club." He informed.

"Thanks, baby. Have a good night."

...

Madam Elise was busy taking care of the Absinthe's accounting after the doors closed. It was already past 3am and the girls were leaving. The night had been very profitable, everything had gone normally, without any mishaps and the girls seemed happy.

Throughout her life, Madam Elise worked at night and with her own effort founded the Absinthe Nightclub, which today has the status of the largest and most renowned nightclub in New York City. No less than 25 girls, 12 dancers, 3 singers, and an entire band worked for her, not counting the waiters, bartenders, security guards, secretaries, suppliers and everything else. It was a big business that she commanded with mastery and love.

However, that night, she was tired and could hardly wait to finally leave the place and go home. She was closing the register when Aline, her personal secretary who helps her take care of the girls' schedules, came to her excitedly.

"You won't believe who called asking for Y/n."

"Whoever it is, her schedule is full until the end of next week." Madam Elise answered nonchalantly, but Aline didn't seem any less excited and handed over a sheet of paper with a name and telephone number written on it.

"That's what I told him, but he didn't seem to mind waiting. He asked us to come back with an all-night date."

"A whole night?" Madam Elise asked surprised. "Does he know her price?"

"He mentioned that money is not a problem." Aline responded, smiling as if just talking to the man had already turned her his biggest fan.

"Why Y/n? Did he ask for her specifically or did you recommend her?"

Aline shook her head "He asked for her and only her. It must have been someone else’s recommendation."

"I highly doubt it." That was all Madam Elise responded to Aline's speculation. "Call him tomorrow, schedule him for the night."

Aline looked at her as if she had said the most absurd thing. "Should I reschedule everyone else? They won't be happy."

"No, but they will accept it. Y/n has already captivated them for life. Now a new client like this one..." She stared at the name scribbled on the sheet of paper. "This is a customer we still need to captivate."

Aline nodded, but continued standing there as if she wanted to ask or say something.

"What is it?" Madam Elise asked impatiently.

"Does madam think he will come here?"

"Don't be silly, of course not. A man like him has an image to maintain. She will go to him."

...

When you woke up the next day, the sun was coming in from behind the gaps in the heavy curtains in your room and it was already past 2PM. The routine of sleeping when it was almost dawn and waking up in the middle of the afternoon was the least rewarding part of the job, but it was something you had to get used to.

You had a very chaotic routine, but you couldn't think of another way to live. Your work has provided you with a beautiful apartment and all the luxury you could have dreamed of, and most importantly, freedom.

You didn't depend on anyone but yourself and contrary to what many might think, you didn't feel used. In fact most of the time you felt like a pop star, with men lining up to have a special appointment with you.

After taking a shower and spending a long time on skin care, you went down to have breakfast - which was actually always afternoon coffee - and took the opportunity to take a look at your schedule. There were two new customers you were excited to meet. One of them was a jazz singer, the other was a politician. A deputy, if you weren't mistaken.

"More coffee, ma'am?" Karen, your maid asked gently.

"Yes please."

Karen had been working for you for a little over a year. It was actually Madam Elise's idea for you to have someone to take care of the house and you, but you suspected that Karen also did a second job: spying on you for her. You would be eternally grateful for everything Madam Elise did for you, but sometimes the woman was too controlling and a little scary. Not that you cared, it wasn't like you had anything to hide.

"Karen, remind me again how you met Madame Elise." You asked, still looking through the names on your cell phone’s notepad and taking a bite of your toast.

"It's been so long, dear, I don't even remember exactly, but I think it was a few years a go when I worked at the nightclub" The old woman responded evasively.

"Hmm" You were sure the last time you asked she said they met each other at a job interview and not once she mentioned she worked at the Absinthe.

"Oh, I almost forgot it! Madam Elise called and asked you to call back as soon as you woke up. She said there were changes in your schedule for the night."

"No, come on! I was looking forward to meeting the deputy." You murmured, finishing your coffee and already calling her.

When you arrived at the Absinthe to get ready, it was already past 6PM and you still didn't know who the special client was that made Madam Elise cancel and reschedule everyone else. She refused to speak on the phone and emphasized that you should spend some extra time taking care of yourself because this client deserved the best.

So you took a bubble bath with some special bath salts, were extra careful with your skin care, using your best oils and creams. Your hair, which you had decided to leave loose and straight, you ended up wrapping in curlers and clips so that you could finish it when you arrived at the nightclub, as well as your makeup, which Madam Elise made a point of saying on the phone that she would do herself.

"I don't know why so much suspense." You said as she finished preparing your skin with foundation.

"You'll understand when you get there." She answered.

"How about this one?" Sofia, one of the new girls who worked with you asked, holding a hanger with a very short strapless red dress.

"No. Too much." Madam Elise replied.

"How about this other one?" Sofia asked showing off a long black dress with an extravagant slit.

"Too much, Sofia. What part of elegant and discreet don't you understand?" Madam Elise responded sharply.

"It would help if you say who the client is." Sofia complained.

"That's what I'm trying to find out." You said taking advantage of Sofia's complaint. "Oh, I got it, He is a rockstar, isn’t he? Don't tell me it's Bono!"

Sofia stared at Madam Elise, waiting for an answer.

“It's not Bono. And he's not a rockstar. He's better than that."

"How about this one?" Sofia showed off a rose midi dress that looked like something Kate Middleton would wear to one of her official events.

"Perfect!" Madame Elise exclaimed, finishing applying the third layer of mascara to your eyelashes.

"Please don't say it's the president. He's too old." You whimpered.

"Don't be silly, Y/n." That's all she replied.

"Older men make the best clients." Sofia reflected as she hung the dress on the chair next to you. "They are kind and don't usually last long. Not to mention they pay extras."

"Girl, You're learning fast!" You praised.

"Learning from the best." Sofia said giving you a wink and you two giggled.

"Perfect. Now let's let this hair down." Madam Elise said as she took the clips out of your hair and used a comb to straighten your curls. She finished with a setting spray and only then let you look in the mirror. The whole thing seemed too much to you, but you didnt say anything.

"Now finish getting dressed. A car is waiting for you outside. The driver knows where to drop you off."

"Yes ma'am."

Surprising you, Madam Elise leaned over and gave you a small kiss on the cheek in a rare display of affection.

"Good luck, my darling."

...

When the driver stopped in front of the old building, you couldn't help but think he had gotten the address wrong.

"Are you sure we're in the right place?"

"177A Bleecker Street. That's the exact address Madam Elise gave me. Do you want me to call her to check?"

You shook your head "No. It's okay. Thank you." You said, opening the door and getting out of the car.

"Should I pick you up in an hour?" He asked.

"No. He paid for the night." You informed, closing the door.

You walked up the steps slowly, somewhat intimidated by the oppressiveness of the place and trying to convince yourself that this was really happening, but when you approached the door, it opened on its own and you were overcome with the realization that you were about to spend the night with none other than Defender Strange himself.

As soon as you entered, the door closed behind you and you stood in the empty entrance hall somewhat disconcerted and not knowing what to do next. It took what seemed like an eternity until you were greeted by a baritone voice.

"Hello. I'm sorry, I was sure the woman I talked to this morning told me you would arrive at 9pm" He said going down the stairs and coming towards you. He was dressed exactly as you had seen him on TV or in the newspapers. Black and red robes, boots and hair tied in a ponytail, but gosh, the TV and newspapers didn't do justice to his beauty. Defined jaw, sharp cheekbones, plump lips and beautiful blue eyes. The man was gorgeous.

"I'm sure Madam Elise wouldn't get confused with my schedule. You must have spoken to Aline, her personal secretary." You said, feeling your cheeks turning red from the strange situation and also from the way he glared at you.

"Well, I have no reason to complain if her mistake gave me more time with you." He smirked, extending his hand for you to hold and bringing it to his lips. You knew that if it was any other man doing that you would roll your eyes at how clich�� and ridiculous the gesture was, but with him all you could think about was how elegant and gentle he was. He just seemed so calm and kind.

"I'm sure you already know me, but let me formally introduce myself. Doctor Stephen Strange, or how my friends call me, Defender Strange, but you can call me Stephen."

You smiled "It's a pleasure to meet you, Stephen. I'm Y/n, but of course you already know that."

His smile widened "It's a pleasure to meet you in person, Y/n." He kept your hand in his. "Come, this is my house." He said gesturing ahead and taking you to the lounge and you found yourself analyzing every detail. The place was beautiful. It definitely wasn't to your taste, but it had a certain charm. Everything looked ancient, from the extravagant chandeliers to the reddish wooden furniture, everything seemed to have been there for many, many years.

"It's very nice." You said, still dazzled by every detail that was visible to you. The place was huge. "Do you live alone here?"

"Yes. I am the master of this Sanctum and therefore I live here. It is old and makes strange noises at night, but you learn to like it over time." He seemed to analyze your expressions carefully.

"But it must be lonely living alone in such a big place." You insisted, still amazed by the size of the place and you had only seen the foyer and the lounge.

Stephen smirked "It's rarely empty and work takes up most of my days, so I don't have time to feel lonely."

"Hmm."

"Please, sit. May I offer you something to drink?"

"Sure." You said, sitting on the beautiful victorian sofa.

"Wine? Maybe something stronger?"

"Wine is great."

He nodded. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be back in a moment."

You did as he asked and as soon as he left, he returned with two glasses and a bottle of red wine which he opened and poured.

"I'm curious" You said, taking the glass he handed to you. "How do you know me? I mean, Madam Elise told me you asked for me specifically."

He smiled and took a long sip of wine.

"It's a long story. The short version is that a friend of mine told me about you."

"Is he a client?"

He chuckled, "I don't really know. I'm just glad he lead me to meet you."

You sipped the wine slowly, savoring the sweet on your tongue as much as you were savoring the enigmatic company of the man in front of you. However he downed the last of his wine and stood up.

"If you allow me, I need to finish a few things before I can dedicate myself entirely to you. Please, make yourself at home. Choose something for us to listen to, if you like music. I have a large collection. I'm sure something will please you."

With that he walked away, disappearing from sight and leaving you alone in the huge lounge.

You did what he suggested. You refilled your glass and ventured into the huge shelf of music in front of you, which to your surprise were not CDs but LPs. You got distracted reading the titles. He had a little bit of everything, from classical to pop music, including R&B and Hip Hop, classic rock and industrial metal and other things you didn't even know.

You opted for Bon Jovi and left it playing at a pleasant ambient volume and distracted yourself by scrolling through your Instagram feed for what seemed like a long time.

When he returned, he was no longer dressed in his sorcerer robes, but rather in dark jeans and a gray shirt. His hair, however, was still tied up in a ponytail and you found yourself thinking that any man in the world would look ridiculous with that hair, but not him.

"Bon Jovi. Good choice."

"A little cheesy, but I like it." You confessed. "I don't think I've ever met anyone who had so much physical music in the days of streaming services."

He chuckled. "Let's just say I'm old-fashioned. I'm not given to technology."

"No, just magic, I presume." You teased, getting up and approaching him, deciding to take the initiative. Men usually liked you to take the initiative, but with him you weren't too sure, but you had already waited too long and to be quite honest, you were eager to finally start the night.

"Are you going to show me some tonight?" You asked in your most seductive voice, and he let you snuggle into his arms and leaned his face against your hand when you touched him and finally, finally, he kissed you. A soft kiss, as if he was tasting a forbidden fruit, but you were eager to deepen the kiss, eager to finally claim him as one of your most valuable conquests.

His lips were thick and soft, his tongue tasted like wine and something else you couldn't identify and the touch of his beard on your face was delicious.

You couldn’t remember the last time you were this turned on by a kiss, but you could feel the slick between your legs. However, he pulled away gently when your hands threatened to unbutton his shirt.

"I can show you one or two things, but I'd like us to have dinner first." He said. "We don't need to rush, we have the whole night ahead of us."

But you had no intention of stopping now, not when your lips were finally on his mouth, down his chin and then his neck, nibbling his ear lobe. "I'm not hungry. Not for food at least." You whispered in his ear and watched him swallow thickly, but he grabbed your hand and pulled you away gently.

"I must insist."

You nodded a little confused, but let yourself be pulled into what soon turned out to be the dining room. The table was set and the food smelled wonderful. You hadn't really noticed that you were hungry until now, but it shouldn't have been a surprise since you had barely eaten all day.

He pulled out the chair for you to sit down and confessed. "I bought the food from my favorite Italian restaurant. I hope you don't mind. I would have cooked, but I didn't have time."

But he knew how to cook. Noted.

You smiled reassuringly, "It's great. It's more than I expected to be honest. Men don't usually serve me dinner. It's usually the other way around, you know?" You chuckled.

He poured your glass and his and then sat down too. "Men rarely know how to value what they have."

You felt your cheeks blushing and disguised it by taking a sip of wine.

"Well, they pay two thousand dollars for the hour." You said finally trying the food. "Wow, this is delicious."

He smiled satisfied and only them allowed himself to start eating too. "I'm not talking about money. For me, having the company of a woman, whether I paid for her or not, is always a privilege.

You stared at him and then gave in to your curiosity. "I wonder why a man like you needs to pay for a woman."

He didn't seem surprised or bothered by the question. He chewed slowly and swallowed, wiped his lips on his napkin and took a sip of his wine and then said simply. "I don't have to pay for women. But I had to pay to have the woman I wanted."

You felt your stomach fluttering at those words and something about the way he glanced at you and said it made you blush, and you smiled shyly. "I hope I'm worth it."

...

After dinner you convinced him to take you on a small tour of the house and your admiration for the place only increased with each new room that was presented to you.

"This is the library." He said, opening the two wooden doors and indicating for you to enter. He entered right behind you and waited in silence while you swept the place with your eyes.

 It was ancient and beautiful, like you expected the library of an old castle or something to be like. So many shelves of books that went from floor to ceiling and small ladders supported on the shelves so that people could get books from higher places. There were also small desks scattered around the place and a larger one in the left corner with a large wooden and leather chair. Some books, paper and pen and a pair of reading glasses on top of it.

"It's my second favorite place in the house." He reported proudly, "It's also where I spend most of my time when I'm not on a mission."

You nodded, walking slowly down one of the corridors and trying to read the titles of the books. Most of them were written in other languages. "Which is the first?"

He smiled getting closer and when he spoke again his voice sounded dangerously close to your ear "I'll show you."

You felt your skin prickle and that didn't go unnoticed by him. He held your shoulders and got close enough for you to feel his body pressed against yours. His fingers slowly pulled the strap of your dress and only then did you notice a tremor in his hands, but before you could ask yourself what had happened to them, he started to place little kisses on your shoulder and little by little he raised them to your neck and you completely forgot what you were thinking.

The little kisses went up to your ear and he nibbled your earlobe and exhaled heavily as if he had been holding his breath for a long time and your body trembled with the sensation of his warm breath.

Without holding back, you turned to face him and pulled him into a kiss and your lips collided with a passion that surprised you. His tongue invaded your mouth and dominated yours easily and your fingers were quick to unbutton the buttons of his shirt, while his fingers unzipped your dress and the two of you desperately undressed without your mouths separating for even a second. Suddenly the idea of ​​being apart from him seemed absurd and you were surprised by the overwhelming passion that took over you. It was as if the two of you were live wires that had finally touched and were now joined by an electric current of passion and lust.

When your dress was lying on the floor and your hands managed to free him from his pants and finally free his cock from his boxers, you pumped him a few times reveling in the realization that he was as big as you needed him to be. He rested his forehead on yours, closing his eyes and indulging in the touch of your hand and you cupped his face and pulled him back to your lips.

"I've waited for this for so long." He rasped in your lips, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you off the floor. You locked your legs around his waist, and he carried you to the largest desk and quickly finished undressing you, but made a point of keeping your high heels on.

He kicked his shoes away and did the same with his pants and boxers, leaving him gloriously naked for you and you watched in fascination as he moved his fingers and a condom materialized in thin air. He opened it quickly with his teeth and put it in with a certain desperation and finally entered you.

You both moaned at the sensation and you held yourself on to the edge of the desk as he thrusted against you with a certain desperation that was surprising and at the same time delicious. The sound of your bodies slamming against each other mixed with your moans and echoed through the empty library.

Your head fell back and he took the opportunity to bury his face between your breasts and took one nipple in his mouth and then another.

"Fuck..." You cursed out and then bit your lips to contain your moans, but they kept escaping as he fucked you so good and with so much passion and you suddenly noticed that you weren't forcing a positive reaction to please him. If anything, you were surprised with yourself, at how he was making you feel.

Your hand grabbed his hair and pulled him back to your lips and he kissed you passionately, thrusting his tongue into your mouth with the same desperation with which he thrusted his cock inside you. Fast, intense and delicious.

He broke the kiss only to run his lips down your neck and pushed you gently so that you lay down on the desk and pulled your hips closer to the edge and with a hand flat on your lower belly he returned to thrust into you and the variation of the position made him hit your g spot with calculous precision and your mouth went agape.

Men didn't usually find your g spot and didn't even bother trying, always desperate to achieve their own pleasure, but he was different, somehow he was different from everyone else.

"Stephen... You're going to make me cum."

You confessed surprise at how the knot seemed to tighten in your stomach. "Do you want me to cum, baby?"

He didn't respond, too involved in his own pleasure, but he put a hand between you touching your clit and rubbing his fingers there in slow circles and that was enough of an answer for you and your body responded to the stimulation quickly pulling you to the edge.

You came hard and he came soon after.

When he finished, he pulled you to meet his lips and something about the sweetness of that kiss made your heart flutter in your chest in a way you hadn't felt in a long time, but you were too caught up in all the sensations to pay attention to what they meant.

It was you who broke the kiss to breathe and he gently pulled out and quickly got rid of the dirty condom with a flick of his fingers and ran his hand through his hair, tucking the strands that came loose from the ponytail behind his ear and then smiled seeming a little embarrassed.

"This wasn't how I imagined." He said and upon noticing how that sentence could be interpreted in a wrong way he ran to explain "I thought I could get to the room. Give you a little comfort at least."

You stood up and approached him, cupping his cheek gently. "Believe me, you gave me something much better." You said letting out a small chuckle and pulling him back to your lips and something between his little moan and how his hand hold you closer to him made you feel like he was melting for you.

"Now will you show me your favorite place in the house?" You asked giving him your cutest smile and he nodded smiling.

"Anything you want."

The two of you got dressed in silence, but the silence wasn't awkward, in fact it was full of smiles and glances, and you found yourself thinking that you didn't remember the last time you felt like that, like you were on a real date rather than being with a client.

Either way, you pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind, remembering very well Madam Elise's words: No matter how incredible a client is, never forget they are just that: a client. Because they will never forget that you are a whore.

You sighed, letting the silly smile on your lips slowly die.

Stephen led you up the stairs and you walked behind him down a long hallway until you stopped in front of a large door, but before he opened it he turned to you and gently informed, "Many of the artifacts you will see in this room are magical and their value is immeasurable. I must ask you not to touch anything."

"Geez, I'm not that clumsy, Stephen." You defended yourself giving him your best smile.

"Please" He insisted.

"Okay, no touching." You promised, showing your hands to him and holding them behind your back dramatically. He smirked and then nodded opening the door and the two of you slowly entered. He snapped his fingers and the lights came on so you could actually look at the place.

It was a large and spacious room full of pedestals with vases and other objects on top, some were protected by glass, others were not. Everything seemed so old, from the heavy amber curtains and the gold and burgundy carpets to the cabinets and book shelves, the paintings on the walls and the ostentatious chandelier in the center of the ceiling. There was a fireplace surrounded by two loveseats and a fluffy dark brown rug. On the floor, next to the rug, there were some books and a forgotten tea cup.

But all of this was nothing compared to the beautiful round window that gave a beautiful view of Greenwich Village. "Wow, this is beautiful."

You approached the window to take a look outside where cars were rushing past. You had already seen that window from the outside, not to mention they sold postcards of the city with the front of the Sanctum Sanctorum printed on them, but being inside, observing the outside through that window was something else entirely.

"I usually come here when I need to think or just disconnect from my sorcerer problems." He explained, approaching you from behind and wrapping his arms around your waist. "This window is special, it allows me to see more of what is in front of me."

You raised an eyebrow "Is this some wizard code for something?"

He chuckled in your ear making your body tingle and then pointed to the window "This pattern is the seal of Vishanti, I don't expect you to know what it means, but it is very important and protects the Sanctum from various types of threats."

You nodded, looking at the intricate symbol in the window, but more precisely looking at him, so serious when he was talking about his work and so beautiful with that long hair, the gray strands just made him even more attractive and the beard, those cheekbones and the eyes...

"The window of worlds allows me to see other realities and dimensions. Some are pleasant to look at, benevolent so to speak, so you can easily get lost while watching them, others are dark and frightening, but it is my job to observe them and assure that everything remains in its natural state, without interference in our real world."

You smiled shyly admitting, "It's hard to combine the things you're explaining with the term real world. I live in the real world, this is… something else."

He let out a small laugh and then buried his nose in your hair and inhaled deeply, "You weren't real to me until tonight."

You turned to look at him "You talk about me like you know me."

He sighed, closing his eyes when your hand cupped his cheek, but before you could ask anything he pulled you to his lips and you felt your entire body shaking with that kiss, your heart pounding in your head as you gave in to the certainty that there was more than just sex involved tonight, even though you knew it was crazy, you couldn't help but feel that way. He was different, special and it wasn't because of who he was or the things he could do - magically speaking - but rather because of the way he could turn you into a puddle of goo with a look, a smile, a touch of his trembling hands and that kiss.

He was the one who broke the kiss first and before he could pull away, you pulled him to your lips again kissing him one more time. He smiled satisfied pulling away, but made sure to keep holding your hand and gently directed you to the rug next to the fireplace.

You watched him get rid of his shoes and did the same, letting your sore feet be caressed by the softness of the rug.

"I usually meditate here." He said, picking up the cup from the floor and disposing of it with a movement of his hand. "And I read. It helps keep me grounded. It's where I can have privacy, besides my room, of course."

You nodded, sitting on the carpet and reaching out to pick up one of the books, but he quickly took them out of your reach and returned them to the bookshelf.

"I'm surprised I can touch you, since everything here is sacred." You teased watching as he sat next to you, his hands automatically pulled you close and his fingers played with the strap of your dress pulling it down and placing little kisses on your shoulder. With his other hand he started to unzip your dress on your back and you felt your skin prickling.

"I am not sacred." He explained, searching for your lips and kissing you hungrily "Actually, I'm very human..." He continued kissing you, but his hands helped you get rid of the straps of your dress, letting it fall to your waist and undressing your breasts to him as he held one of them in his hand, pinching a nipple "...with human needs that I want you to satisfy."

You intertwined your fingers in his hair when his lips went down to your neck and he began to suck on your throat. He stopped and admired his work and then continued making sure the mark stayed.

"Y-you... can't..." You tried to warn him in vain when you finally noticed what he was doing, but he covered your lips with his index finger and continued until he was satisfied.

"What can't I do?" He asked with a cute smirk on his lips once he was satisfied with his work.

You swallow thickly feeling drunk, even though all you had drank that night was three glasses of wine.

"Mark me." You finally managed to say and his smirk turned into a grin.

"Too late for that, baby. Skin is very nice and soft, can't help it." And as if to prove what he was saying, he lightly bit the spot just below your ear and then sucked on the skin, eliciting a moan from your lips.

You couldn't tell what he had, but he managed to mess with you in a way that you couldn't understand, you could either think straight or formulate a coherent sentence while he had his lips on you. He made you melt, all your self-confidence and control seemed to melt before him.

"What's going on inside this pretty head of yours?" He asked, biting your chin and sticking his tongue in your mouth in another breathtaking kiss.

You hummed into his lips and tried to formulate a response when he finally broke the kiss.

"You. Right now, there is only you."

He smiled proudly, "Yeah? But there's another place I'd rather be at the moment."

You bit your bottom lip and waited for him to tell you.

"With my face between your legs." He rasped in your ear "Would you like that?"

God yes, please. But you just nodded letting yourself be manhandled as he laid you down on the fluffy rug and finished taking off your dress and panties. Your legs hung to the sides and he didn't wait to dive between them, lapping his tongue into your folds to make you even wetter than you already were.

He used his fingers to open your folds and licked your clit lightly with the tip of his tongue making your entire body tremble, your hands searched for something to grab and stopped in his hair, grabbing his ponytail, but you policed ​​yourself to don't pull.

"Oh fuck... oh yes, yes..."

He hummed approvingly at your reaction and the vibration made your body shake. Without waiting any longer, he took your clit between his lips and began to suck slowly and then increasing the pressure and you saw stars.

You loved oral sex, but the men you had sex with never cared enough to waste time pleasuring you like this, after all they were paying a lot of money, it was understandable they preferred to receive rather than give, but Defender Strange was different from all of your other clients, he was actually taking pleasure in giving pleasure to you and he was wonderful. You couldn't remember the last time you had your clit sucked with such dexterity, if anyone had ever managed to reach that level of excellence, that is, and your clit suckers could only do so much and were nothing compared to the real thing and Stephen, oh god, Stephen was even better than the real thing. He was perfect.

You could feel the knot inside you threatening to break, your legs shaking under the grip of his hands and the next thing you knew you were tugging at his hair, the hair tie came loose in your hand and you finished getting rid of it letting his soft locks fall like a curtain of dark brown and gray.

Of course he could feel you were close, your body was shaking, your breathing was faster, your wet, neglected hole was clenching around nothing and your moans were getting louder and louder, but then he stopped, brought his hand down to his hair moving them away from his face and stared at you with those blue eyes and a satisfied smile on his lips that somehow took your breath away.

"Please... don't..." You could barely speak.

"I don't want you to cum yet." He confessed and then crawled on top of you "You're so delicious, you know that, right?"

You pulled him to your lips instead of responding. The taste of your cunt in his mouth was so obscene and so delicious that you couldn't control a moan. He chuckled between your lips letting you control the kiss for the first time that night. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you couldn't resist, you pulled just a little to see his reaction and to your surprise and delight he moaned, a loud and unmistakable moan.

When your lips parted, he glanced at you and you took the opportunity to caress his face, tracing the outline of his beard with your finger.

"You're so beautiful." You confessed "You're even more beautiful in person than on TV."

He let out a little giggle and you could see a light shade of pink fill his cheeks and you thought it was adorable.

He kissed your lips softly and held your chin between his thumb and forefinger "You're beautiful. You have the most beautiful pair of eyes I've ever seen and your smile... it does things to me."

You smiled shyly with the way he was glancing at you and then watched as he seemed to go somewhere else in his mind for a second but soon after he smiled back. "Where have you been all this time?" He asked.

You weren't sure what to say, so you just pulled him to your lips again and kissed him, feeling a strange sensation in your stomach. His lips moved down your chin and he touched your lips with his thumb, gently forcing them apart. You took his digit in your mouth and sucked on it, teasing him to which he smirked.

"I want your mouth now." He asked, taking his finger out of your mouth and replacing it with his tongue and kissed you hard.

You cupped his cheek and asked, "Tell me how you like it."

There were many things you could do with a man's cock in your mouth and you mastered that art masterfully, but with him you were insecure, you couldn't read him and while that was frustrating, it was also what made it all the most exciting.

"Do you ask this of all your clients?" He asked, looking genuinely curious.

You shook your head "No. Usually I know what they like right away, but you... you're different."

He seemed to like your answer. He rolled onto his side and lay on his back on the carpet. "You can start by undressing me and then you can take good care of me."

You sat down next to him and let your fingers run down his chest, playing with the buttons on his shirt.

"Do you like being taken care of?" You checked.

"Very much."

You unbuttoned his shirt, pulling the fabric aside and placing kisses on his chest, lowered your hand to his belt and bit your lip, noticing his hard on contained inside his pants. It twitched with the lightest of touches from your fingers and you couldn't help the proud smile on your lips. You moved to straddle his legs and unbuckled his belt and pants and with both hands you pulled down his pants and boxers, moving to take them off completely and throwing them in a pile on the floor.

You went back to straddling his legs and finally laid your eyes on his cock. You had felt him in your hands and felt him impaling you, but it was the first time you were looking directly at him and god, it was beautiful. The curvature that let it lean towards his stomach and the veins bulging around it combined with the fat, pink head made your mouth water. He was pulsing and leaking from the head and without holding back you bent down and licked the slit to collect the precum and it tasted so good. Salt and sweet at the same time.

"I can take care of you." You purred. "Just tell me exactly how you like it."

He bit his bottom lip to hold back a moan when you finally took him in your hand, holding him tight.

"Slowly. There's no need to gag on it, just take as much as you can. And I will love if you suck my balls, lightly, I'm very sensitive there."

You listened carefully. All you wanted was to please him.

"Can I make you cum in my mouth?"

"Fuck, yes" He replied and his cock twitched in your hand.

"But there will be another round for me, right?" You confirmed, smiling mischievously.

"As many as you want." He promised.

Your mouth was salivating to have him, but you started slowly, just giving little cat licks on the head and running your tongue down his entire length while your eyes remained fixed on his. If there was one thing that was certain about all men, it's that they love it when you suck their dicks while looking at them with big dull eyes. Defender Strange was no exception. He bit his lip to try to suppress a groan and his hands grabbed the fur on the rug.

You contained a giggle watching his reaction and continued with your work, lowering your tongue to the base and then taking one of his heavy balls in your mouth. You sucked slowly and then took the other one and repeated the same process while your hand moved up and down, slowly pumping him.

"Oh fuck, it's so good." He praised you and you felt that strange feeling in your stomach again, quickly realizing that you liked hearing him praising you and trying your best to have more of that.

You moved your lips up, placing small wet kisses along his entire length and stopped at his frenulum, licking it lightly with the tip of your tongue. For most men, the frenulum was the most sensitive part of their cocks and gave them the most pleasure when stimulated, however it used to be neglected most of the time by women, but you weren't like all women, you knew how to pleasure a man and there was nothing you wanted more than to pleasure Stephen. Not only that, you wanted to be the best he ever had.

You alternated the licks with light sucks on the delicate area and he began to writhe beneath you, moans began to escape his lips and you noticed how his baritone was even sexier in that context.

"Oh, right there, f-feels so good. J-just keep doing what you're doing with your tongue." He asked and you hummed satisfied, flicking your tongue in his frenulum and with one of your hands you began to massage his balls, giving them a light squeeze. With the other hand you continued pumping him at the base and he started to pulse in your hand and you knew that if you didn't reduce the stimulation he would cum before you even put him in your mouth, but you didn't care, you wanted to see him cumming like that, you wanted to prove to him that you were that good, so you increased the stimulation on his frenulum, changing the light licks for a more efficient suction while still using your tongue, but now not quickly, but like a kiss, slowly and with more passion.

"You're going to make me cum if you keep this up." He rasped bringing his hands to your head, but he didn't push or pull, he just grabbed your hair in a ponytail to move it away from your face and allow him to have a good view of what you were doing. Men were visual creatures.

"Do you want me to stop?" You asked, stopping to make sure, but he shook his head vehemently.

"Please, don't stop. Just keep working your tongue like that."

You did as he asked, but stopped pumping him and let his cock fall heavily onto his stomach, using only your mouth to stimulate him and your hand on his balls.

You licked, sucked, kissed his frenulum and started all over again until his grip on your hair got stronger, pulling at the roots and with a loud moan he came on his stomach.

"F-fuck yes. Oh shit... oh baby..."

You couldn't contain the smile on your lips when you saw him in that state, you were so proud of yourself, and you hadn’t even put him in your mouth. The man was so sensitive to touch, you wanted to ravish him so much.

You crawled on top of him and he cupped your cheek, still panting, but there was a wide smile on his lips.

"How did you do that?"

"I barely did anything. You are very sensitive."

He smirked, "Or maybe you're just too good with that tongue. No woman has ever made me cum like this." He confessed.

You felt your cheeks blushing and that was also an effect of him over you. You weren't shy, but when he looked at you like that and talked to you like that you felt yourself melting. Instead of saying anything, you kissed him softly, but then went down your lips to his neck, licking, biting, sucking on his pulse point and continued moving your lips down to his chest, taking one of his nipples in your mouth and sucking and pinching the other. He moaned softly and you felt him twitching in your stomach, his cum running down his sides, making your skin and his stick together and making a mess, but you couldn't care less.

He was soft now, but not completely and as soon as the stimulation on his nipples intensified he began to harden again for you. The man had a lot of stamina and you could only be grateful for that because you couldn’t wait to have him inside you again.

"R-ride me." His voice sounded shaky above your head. You brushed your hair away from your face to look at him and he cupped your face with both hands "Ride me, baby. Use me. Wanna see you getting off on my cock." He asked and you felt your heart pounding on your chest. You nodded and kissed him.

"Condom?" You asked, trying hard to reason. He moved his fingers and a condom materialized between his index finger and his middle finger and he handed it to you. With another movement of his fingers his shirt disappeared, and he was completely bare for you.

Opening the package, you took his lips in a hungry kiss and your hands went down to meet his cock, pumping him slowly, but with a firm grip on your hands, making him moan on your lips.

You dedicated yourself to putting the condom on him, but first you bent down to put him whole in your mouth. His hands automatically grabbed your hair as he hardened until it was rock hard in your mouth as you bobbed your head on his length, finally giving him the oral he deserved.

"S-such a delicious mouth. So f-fucking perfect... I knew you'd be so fucking good to me..."

You couldn't shake the thought that he spoke to you as if he knew you and that it wasn't just because a friend had recommended you to him, it seemed to be something more, but at the same time you also knew that something in him was awakening a different type of attraction and that you were probably only seeing things where nothing existed because you were too involved, so you tried hard to push away those thoughts and dedicated yourself to giving him the best blowjob, using your tongue the entire time, swirling it along his entire length while taking turns going up and down and using a little suction on his head. You knew it was going well because he continued praising you between moans that grew louder and louder, however he held your chin and gently took his cock out of your mouth.

"As incredible as this is, I really want to cum with my cock inside you this time." He explained. "And not before you."

You smiled nodding and finally – reluctantly - put on the condom. Part of you wanted to fuck him raw, but in your profession, that was never an option.

Moving to straddle him, you directed his cock at your entrance which was dripping wet and let yourself sink into him feeling him stretch you deliciously.

You had seen dicks of all sizes and learned to get the best out of each one, but you couldn't be a hypocrite or lie and say that size doesn't matter. Yes, it matters a lot, and you were so grateful that Defender Strange was this big, providing you with the perfect amount of stretch and with that perfect curvature that found your g spot with surprising ease. All you had to do was lean forward a little, resting both hands on his chest and that was it.

"Oh y-yes baby... right there."

Stephen groaned in satisfaction, both of his hands grabbed and squeezed the fat of your waist, his eyes fixed on yours the entire time.

"Hit that sweet special spot uh? I can feel it. Feels so good, so fucking warm and wet... shit... squeezing me so tight."

You bit your lip, moving your hips up and down, turning it sensually every time you went down, letting his pelvic bone and hair massage your clit, providing shocks of pleasure that felt like electric currents running through your entire body.

"I love seeing you riding me like this, so fucking gorgeous" He purred "Come on, baby, need more, fuck me harder."

You increased the pace until you were both panting, the sensuality giving way to the tireless search for your release that you knew wasn't too far away. You couldn't help it, he was so perfect, everything about him exuded sex, the looks, the moans, the dirty words of submission taking you to the limit and at the same time making you hold on to the edge because you didn't want it to end, you wanted to let that continue forever.

However, he seemed to understand that you were stalling because he wrapped his arm around your waist and sat down leaving the two of you in a lotus position and began to move you faster on top of him, thrusting his hips against you to increase the intensity of the thrusts.

Getting carried away by all the sensations and feeling the knot threatening to break, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and grabbed a handful of his hair tugging at it with more force than you should have while the movements of your hips on top of him became faster and more desperate.

"Do it again." He urged in your ear, his baritone little more than a whisper.

You pulled his hair again, even harder this time and his head fell back and you felt his cock throb inside you. A part of you loved that and without him asking you did it again and again and took advantage of the fact that his neck was on display for you and started sucking it hard, biting it and sucking again until it left a purple mark. Satisfied, you grabbed his chin and pulled him to your lips, sticking your tongue in his mouth and being surprised by the way he let himself be dominated and when he let out a sweet moan in your mouth and his dick throbbed again Inside you, you knew he had reached his limit.

You sunk your teeth into his shoulder, feeling the wave of pleasure and euphoria wash over you as the knot broke and you came hard on his cock and with a loud, animalistic groan he came soon after, his cock pulsing and spilling into the condom. God, how you wish it were your walls that he was painting white.

That thought alone should have been enough for you to question your sudden involvement with that man, but at that moment you didn't want to reason, you just wanted to feel.

...

You were still lying on the rug, staring at the ceiling in silence and immersed in your own thoughts. Although your head was still spinning, your breathing had finally returned to normal, and the reason seemed to be coming back to you because you were suddenly too self-aware of everything that had happened that night.

Stephen had left you for a few minutes and you could hear him cleaning himself in the bathroom. You should also get up and get dressed, but your legs felt like jelly and you couldn't find the will within you to do so.

When he came back and laid back down next to you he was dressed in gray sweatpants and his hair had been pulled back into a ponytail.

"Don't you think sex is a weird thing?" You said, verbalizing the confused thoughts in your head. "I mean, you say things you would never say if you weren't aroused, you do things you can't imagine doing under any other circumstances."

He smiled thinking for a second. "I think it's called intimacy."

"Yes and no. Personally, I think intimacy is different. It's when you feel free to continue talking after sex is over and how you feel about it."

"Like now?" He asked.

You didn't respond, instead you sat down and faced the fireplace.

"I have a list of things I don't do or don't let people do to me." You admitted it.

"What for example?"

"Hickeys" You replied holding back a smile "As you can imagine it's not smart of me to arrive at the appointment with my client marked by the previous client."

"And why do I think you weren't reluctant enough when you realized what I was doing?"

"Because I wasn't." You sighed. "I also don't usually kiss my clients. I mean, it's not a rule, but I avoid it if possible. It makes me uncomfortable."

He sat down, seeming to watch you closely, but didn't say anything.

"Talking about personal things, like I'm doing now, is also on my list." You hugged your legs and rested your chin on your knee giving him an apologetic smile. "You left me disconcerted."

He smiled touching your knee and with his other hand he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and then caressed your cheek.

"I'm not usually like this with other women. Although I enjoy it, I rarely let myself be in a position where I'm not in control. I think it's safe to say that we both did things tonight that we don't usually do, and I don't know about you, but I really liked it and I really hope you liked it."

You sighed, feeling that strange feeling in your stomach again. "That's the problem, Stephen. You shouldn't care what I like or don't like."

"But I care." He replied chuckling dryly. "Is it really that bad that I care?"

You shook your head trying to think straight. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have started this conversation."

"You can tell me whatever you want." He said moving to kiss you, but then stopped and decided to confirm, "Is it okay to keep kissing you?"

"I don't know." You admitted with a sigh, but surrendered and threw yourself into his arms anyway.

He let out a small giggle when your lips collided, but then he took control of the kiss, kissing you like that was the only thing that mattered to him and god, he was such a good kisser. One of the reasons you hated kissing your clients was because they were terrible kissers and also because you thought it was too intimate. But with Defender Strange neither of those things applied.

When he finally got tired of your lips, he stood up and held out his hand for you to do the same. "Come on, let's go to bed."

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

DEFENDER STRANGE MASTERLIST

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[itzrafee]

One Piece Chapter Discussion (Chapter 1126)

Ooh looks like the mystery continues with Yamato investigating the disappearances. I am so curious to see what kind of long lasting effects this will have as with this chapter we’re getting some resolution on a six to seven year old cover story. It’s nice to see Oda expanding on the story around Wano as it’s clear he had a lot of thoughts around it when he was writing it that he didn’t get to explore. I’m also quite curious as to what will happen with the cover stories the closer we get to the end. Whereas he has space to explore other facets of Wano through the cover story, is that something he’ll be able to do with Elbaph with it being so close to the end? Anyways, the rest of the discussion, which is spoiler filled, can be found below the cut!

I don’t know about y’all but I think it would be absolutely terrifying to be where the Straw Hats are in this first page if they weren’t allies with the giants. They straight up just kinda look like their dinner. But we’re not talking about Big Mom so I think the Straw Hats are probably safe. Also while somewhat terrifying, the designs of the Giants are great, they all ooze personality and joviality. I would not want to see them angry either. It’s interesting that the name of the absinthe they’re drinking is the “Green Fairy” and that it can cause hallucinations. Is that just set up to explain how and why the two parties got separated or is it set up for some absinthe-driven hallucinations? 

It’s interesting to me on a story structure level that this chapter kind of illustrates how Oda might have to delve into more slice of life stuff with the crew going forward. That before making this chapter important by flitting around the world and getting updates, Oda first spends some time with the crew just having fun and goofing off. It satisfies the pre-timeskip crowd clamoring for these types of scenes, me among that crowd.

This small sequence with Bonney also gets me right in the heart. Not only does she feel comfortable enough to finally be a child and not put on the airs of a grown adult that the One Piece world requires of people but also she gets to finally be free with her father. One Piece has this startling quality to it that makes the reality of war and oppression so real by contrasting the comedic with the emotional. And nothing hits quite as hard as the fate of the children of this series. We see through the suffering of the Straw Hats as children, Nami, Sanji, and Robin, among a few other characters throughout the series, on how oppression forces you to grow up and be stronger than any child should have to be. In recent arcs that oppression is a reality our young adult Straw Hats face head on. From Otama and Toko in Wano to the metaphors of growing up too fast that Bonney and Momo face us with, Oda is able to use these fantastical elements to deliver truths in more digestible ways. The tragedy of Momo and Bonney having to grow up so fast is such a potent and heart wrenching way to show this side of opression. But Oda is able to provide us with a catharsis that the real world so often denies by having Bonney feel safe again. By having Momo be safe and surrounded by loved ones.

Moving on from that dour and entirely too real note, we finally get a resolution on a cover story from wayyyy long ago where Bartolomeo burned down Shanks flag in Luffy’s name. And there’s a lot to talk about here. For such a fan-favourite and an audience surrogate for many, including myself, It’s odd that it’s been so long since we’ve seen Barto(don’t even get me started on Bon Clay!!). But it’s interesting that Oda seems to understand his impact as it seems like he’s being placed on the same level as Kid and Law in a way. Now this might be a little tin foil hatty of me but don’t you find it odd that Kid, Law, and Barto, all devil fruit users by the way, were all sunk at sea in the New World, the most dangerous sea maybe aside from the Calm Belt? 

And if we remember certain man with a burn scar who was first mentioned in chapter 1056(56=GoMu) and then again brought up in 1081 where it was mentioned that anyone who comes close to him gets swallowed up by whirlpools, I think we might have an option for what might’ve happened to those three. Adding on to that, if we go allll the way back to chapter 2 and full tin foil hat, we can see Luffy getting sucked into a whirlpool soon after he sets out on his journey but then bursting out of a barrel sometime after with Koby. In my head, I can totally see the aforementioned three joining Luffy on Elbaph, especially now that’s been separated from his crew. Maybe Luffy was also kidnapped by this whirlpool wielding man with a burn scar…again.

Okay, fanciful thinking aside we still gotta talk about how we’ve seen Shank’s main crew be ruthless badasses. Lucky Roux in Chapter 1 straight killed a dude while the whole crew laughed. Benn Beckman not only threatened Kizaru but also cut off Kid’s arm. And here, Yassop basically has a cannon attached to his gun and blows up a fleeing Barto Club. While these guys may seem easygoing, they’re still stone cold pirates. Also that ultimatum with the poison was pretty cold too. Barto’s ship blowing up also shows how lethal Yassop’s Haki must be, because I can imagine that Barto might’ve tried to shield his ship with his devil fruit.

I find it curious that Koby was so important to Blackbeard’s plans. I wonder if Blackbeard wanted to use Koby like how the Marines used Ace? We know how much Blackbeard’s plans mean to him. His scheming, though a lot of the time quite impromptu, is half the reason he’s an emperor already. And Blackbeard is in prime position to execute some big time operations. Not only does he have leverage in Garp(though thinking about it, wouldn’t the marines be glad to be rid of him?), he also has Pudding and all the knowledge Caribou brings. Oda makes it a point to show that Caribou has finally gotten to Blackbeard. It’s interesting that he’s surveilling the Revolutionary's too. Especially with Lafitte. Maybe he’s trying to get the heat off of himself by having Lafitte do some undercover hits and then blame it on the Revo’s?

Though, weirdly, the most important tidbit here to me is that Moria got away. It seems most likely that Moria will join Cross Guild as it seems to be the place for Warlord Alumni and Perona already has connections there in the form of Mihawk. I’d originally thought that Blackbeard was going to get Moria to reanimate Kaido, Big Mom, and Garp’s corpses with the obstacle standing in their way being that Blackbeard was responsible for Absolams death but now it seems like Moria’s going to be a player for Cross Guild, with at least the Yonkou resurrections still on the table. Also if Cross Guild is the place to be for former Warlords then we could see Boa join too. And maybe even Kuma and Doflamingo if the latter breaks out of Impel Down. Which I kinda hope he does just purely due to the fact that it might provide a path for Bon Clay to get out too.

This scene with Bonney and Jinbei is adorable but uhh, what’s Lilith staring at? Could she be communicating with Vegapunk?

Finally, in the last page we get some weird shenanigans happening. First, someone wakes Nami up but it appears that she’s alone. She’s had a change of clothes and seems to be in a lego house. The floor is kind of undeniable proof of that even if you want to try and explain away everything else. And finally, she seems to be alone. The going theory seems to be that this is Prince Loki’s lego house and that he’s playing with the StrawHats like toys. He could’ve been the one to call out for Nami. He could be a fan of the StrawHats. And honestly, that theory kinda makes sense, I totally subscribe to it. Loki could be a somewhat petulant giant like Big Mom. I also don’t think the impatient figure at the end of 1124 is him either as that seemed to be a human who was drinking, my going theory about that person being that it was Scopper Gaban, the third crew member of the Roger Pirates after Roger and Rayliegh. See ya next week!

[drakevarg]

Just a bit of random musing, but the perception that Stella's abuse of Stolas feels retconned - because Octavia's account was that their family was stable until the infidelity - are making a couple of leaps. We've seen all of three scenes of Stella pre-adultery, and she was trying to sleep for one of them and wine-drunk in another.

Post-imp Stella screams and throws shit and slaps and plans assassinations and openly admits she enjoys tormenting Stolas. But the thing is, today's Stella HATES Stolas. Yesterday's Stella just didn't respect him.

Stella's always been an absolute bitch, but that's because she's a spoiled child in her early 30s. Her abuse before the indiscretion was literally just being a bully - condescending Stolas, flagrantly insulting him in his presence, and generally just acting like the prom queen alpha bitch of a highschool clique.

And that's a level of abuse that Stolas can simply take quietly and flagellate his liver with absinthe over, in the name of playing house for Octavia's sake. It's a level of abuse that Octavia could be blissfully ignorant of for most of her childhood because literally her entire extended family is made up of snooty nobles who passive-aggressively snipe at each other for sport and openly mock their inferiors. It was toxic as all fuck, but in the socially-acceptable way.

Then Stolas starts a very public affair with some random ex-carnie peasant. This limp twig shit Stella has put up with for 20 years had the gall to embarrass her like that, make a routine of it, and not even have the sense to keep it quiet like a proper nobleman? Yeah no, this is a grudge now, shit's gonna escalate.

Just because Stella's always been abusive doesn't mean she's always been actively malevolent about it. She was just a garden-variety rich bitch that Stolas had the misfortune of sharing a bed with.

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

🌈 Queer Books Coming Out in February 2024

🌈 Good afternoon, my bookish bats! Struggling to keep up with all the amazing queer books coming out this month? Here are a FEW of the stunning, diverse queer books you can add to your TBR before the year is over. Remember to #readqueerallyear! Happy reading!

❤️ We Ate the Dark by Mallory Pearson 🧡 The Paper Boys by D.P. Clarence 💛 Skater Boy by Anthony Nerada 💚 Your Shadow Half Remains by Sunny Moraine 💙 A Vicious Game by Melissa Blair 💜 Clarion Call by Cayla Fay ❤️ Relit: 16 Latinx Remixes of Classic Stories edited by Sandra Proudman 🧡 The Absinthe Underground by Jamie Pacton 💛 Truthfully, Yours by Caden Armstrong 💙 Outsider by Jade du Preez 💜 Cross My Candy Heart by A.C. Thomas 🌈 The Tainted Cup by Robert Jackson Bennett

❤️ An Education in Malice by S. T. Gibson 🧡 The Imposition of Unnecessary Obstacles by Malka Ann Older 💛 Never a Bridesmaid by Spencer Greene 💚 The Rewind by Nicole Stiling 💙 Good Christian Girls by Elizabeth Bradshaw 💜 The Fox Maidens by Robin Ha ❤️ The Terrible by Tessa Crowley 🧡 Blood Rage by Ileandra Young 💛 Call of the Sea by Emily B. Rose 💙 Sign Me Up by C.H. Williams 💜 Ways and Means by Daniel Lefferts 🌈 Peaceful in the Dark by A.A. Fairview

❤️ We Are Only Ghosts by Jeffrey L. Richards 🧡 Dead Ringer by Robyn Nyx 💛 Somacultural Liberation by Dr. Roger Kuhn 💚 Stormbringer by Erinn Harper 💙 A Saga of Shields & Shadows by A.J. Shirley 💜 Ghost Town by R.E. Ward ❤️ I Heard Her Call My Name by Lucy Sante 🧡 The Night Alphabet by Joelle Taylor 💛 Remedial Magic by Melissa Marr 💙 Bloom by N.R. Walker 💜 Entwined by Alex Alberto 🌈 Queer Newark edited by Whitney Strub

❤️ Tristan by Jesse Roman 🧡 How to Live Free in a Dangerous World by Shayla Lawson 💛 Daniel, Deconstructed by James Ramos 💚 Of Socialites & Prizefights by Arden Powell 💙 Lost Harbor by Kimberly Cooper Griffin 💜 Hannah Tate, Beyond Repair by Laura Piper Lee ❤️ Bunt! Striking Out on Financial Aid by Ngozi Ukazu & Mad Rupert 🧡 How You Get the Girl by Anita Kelly 💛 Blackmailer’s Delight by David Lawrence 💙 Tile M for Murder by Felicia Carparelli 💜 Impulse Buy by Jae 🌈 Live for You, Die With You by Kalob Dàniel

❤️ Fairest of All by A.D. Ellis 🧡 Goddess of the Sea by Britney Jackson 💛 A Taste of Earth by Nico Silver 💚 The Moorings of Mackerel Sky by M.Z. Emily Zack 💙 How the Boogeyman Became a Poet by Tony Keith 💜 V is for Valentine by Thomas Grant Bruso ❤️ Crushed Ice by Ashlyn Kane & Morgan James 🧡 When Tomorrow Comes by D. Jackson Leigh 💛 Bugsy & Other Stories by Rafael Frumkin 💙 The White and Blue Between Us by Kiyuhiko 💜 Guide Us Home by CF Frizzell & Jesse J. Thoma 🌈 The Friendship Study by Ruby Barrett

❤️ Infinity Alchemist by Kacen Callender 🧡 Heart2Heart edited by Annabeth Albert 💛 No Time Like Now by Naz Kutub 💚 Bless the Blood by Walela Nehanda 💙 Vengeance Planning for Amateurs by Lee Winter 💜 Who We Are in Real Life by Victoria Koops ❤️ Prove It by Stephanie Hoyt 🧡 Mewing by Chloe Spencer 💛 Awakenings by Claudie Arseneault 💙 Born of Scourge by S. Jean 💜 Disciples of Chaos by M.K. Lobb 🌈 To Cage a God by Elizabeth May

❤️ Greta & Valdin by Rebecca K Reilly 🧡 What Feasts At Night by T. Kingfisher 💛 You Had Me at Merlot by Melissa Brayden 💚 Turning Point by Cathy Dunnell 💙 For the Stolen Fates by Gwendolyn Clare 💜 Season of Eclipse by Terry Wolverton ❤️ These Haunted Hills by Jana Denardo 🧡 Samson & Domingo by Gume Laurel III 💛 Lies that Bind by Rae Knowles & April Yates 💙 We Got the Beat by Jenna Miller 💜 The Diablo's Curse by Gabe Cole Novoa 🌈 Blessings by Chukwuebuka Ibeh

❤️ Out There by Iris Eliot 🧡 At Her Service by Amy Spalding 💛 Green Dot by Madeleine Gray

[tryingtimi]

44 👀

The Crimson Masquerade

One of my favourite songs from NBT, so thank you for the number!❤️ It also helped me finish a piece I started a hundred years ago. This was originally written to this drabble challenge, and it was a nice little time with Lonel and the crew. Plus, I got to explore some of the Phobia too, so it's a winner for sure.

Small Context: Lonel, Selys and Odena go to the Phobia to gather information on vampire activites, after Odena found out about vampirism and werewolves and was adamant on going with the boys.

DYNAMIC AND ENVIRONEMNT EXPLORATION | NON-CANON | WC: 2,278

“Is this some kind of sick joke?”

Odena held back a smile as she squeezed on Lonel’s forearm. They stopped at the entrance of the ballroom—the biggest room the Phobia held within. Curving concrete twisted into silky fabrics hanging loosely on the walls, and red lightning painted everything into a sensual mystery of the night. The dark, sparkling decoration brought a sinister touch to the environment.

Wicked shadows chased the lights on every idling, masked person’s face.

“The best disguise is standing in plain sight, is it not?” Selys asked, still holding out the wolf mask to Lonel. He ignored the other’s subtle snarling, keeping an oblivious smile on his lips. “Besides, it suits you, wolf. You can rip my head off if it doesn’t work.”

“Don’t tempt me, hellspawn.”

“As much as I enjoy watching bickering men tearing at each other, we should start mingling, don’t we, gentlemen?” Odena offered, putting up her own mask: a beautifully crafted hummingbird with feathers that felt too real to the touch, and a small, gilded beak adorned with gemstones. It was a masterpiece of a true craftsman, just like every other one that VIP attendants handed out to guests.

“The lady is right, of course.” Selys mimicked her, placing the horned, hardened paper over his face. Its red matched with the lightning, and the colours of the Phobia. “Shall we then?”

He gestured with his hand, eyes creased deeply from his now-hidden smile. Lonel huffed, snatching the wolf mask away, and putting up with a disapproving grunt. The creation did fit him, actually. Detailed to the sharp point of the carved fangs, it was no less a sight to the laical eye.

Odena hooked back her arm into Lonel’s as they walked deeper into the enemy’s den.

They earned — very proficiently disguised — glances with their pause, but none of the people seemed to think too much into it. Staying alert, however, never hurt anyone. Therefore Odena pulled out her filigrane cigarettes gifted by Selys and offered one to Lonel as well.

“Thanks,” he said, distaste evident in his tone.

Her smoke slipped through her teeth as she smiled at him, the nearly translucent, forming and disappearing shapes crawling to the thin cloud that occupied the rest of the ceiling.

“And how should we know which one is your kind?”

Lonel emphasised the last words with syrupy venom in his throat. He might have accepted Selys, but not the other… vampires.

Odena found it still odd to name such creatures with certainty.

“You’ll know. This way,” Selys led them to a table packed with bite-sized tasters and tarts. Overwhelming perfume and incense clouds lingered in the air since they stepped into the club, yet here the scent of food finally overruled it. One could nearly taste the salmon salt and lemon sour, champagne sweet and absinthe bitter with every breath. She was glad for that humble dinner they ate before coming so her focus wouldn’t falter. Selys began filling up his plate. “They’re preying, and outnumber the warmbloods. I’m positive you both can spot predators on a hunt.”

Odena ran her gaze over the crowd, careful not to make eye contact with anyone longer than a few seconds. She felt Lonel’s biceps tense a little under her palm, so she gave it a reassuring squeeze. Not that he would need it, she knew him too well to believe it could calm him. But it was something, and it helped her ignore the name Sleys addressed them with.

She took a plate, and packed some fruit and cheese at it, letting Lonel handle the drinks. Orange and red reflectors rushed to embrace them, then slid onward without a goodbye. The sensual, quiet music played relentlessly somewhere above. Odena could barely see the food in the dimness of the room, so she did her best to follow Lonel’s forever advice and let her nose guide her.

A man walked beside her, reaching for another glass of drink.

“Good evening,” he said, clear intention in his voice. Odena turned to him, alongside Lonel and Selys. The man wore a black tuxedo over his wine-red shirt and vest. Chest covered with frizzled cotton, corn blond hair freely flowing onto his shoulders. He looked as if he had stepped out of one of Selys paintings in his manor. “Who are your lovely guests Dumwermere?”

“Mr and Mrs Morninger. A pleasure to meet you, sir,” Odena initiated, offering her hand which the man took with clear amusement. It was the coldest kiss ever planted on her skin.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Lonel’s arm tensed again, pulling it out from her grip and rather resting a hand on her waist. He did not offer a handshake to the man, but after a hidden poke in his side, he nodded as a greeting. The skin creased softly around one of the man’s eyes underneath the gilded fox mask, gaze steady on Lonel’s face. He kept staring with a smile as if he mused about a secret irony.

Selys continued, polite, yet distant. “They’re old workmates of mine. Mr and Mrs Morninger, this is Silvenus Galhart, the Phobia’s event manager. The praise you’ve showered me about the interior Mrs Morninger, they all shall go to him.”

“Oh, marvellous job, Mr Galhart. I’m thoroughly impressed.” Odena mimicked a smile sweet enough. She hoped for an opportunity to pry, but Silvenus simply bowed his head a touch, sipping from his drink.

“You flatter me, my lady. But it’s still early. I should only get a hold of my musicians so the evening could bloom into its full form.”

Odena caught a peek of the moderate stage in the belly of the club. A varnished guitar body and cymbals glinted around the three figures shuffling around the pedestal. The blackness of the stage was lost in the shadowed corner they were put into, making the people above glide on nothing but pure, thick darkness. Lonel joined her gaze for a second.

“Aren’t they out there?” he asked.

Silvenus inclined his brow in what seemed like well-contained irritation. “Only half of them. Our frontman and lead guitarist vanished into thin air, and we’re about to start in ten minutes.”

His tight tone told Odena that it wasn’t exactly the first time they might have done this. Silvenus, also, was surprisingly talkative. She assumed he might be rather ashamed of difficulties concerning the event, yet he didn’t give any indication of that. He simply looked as someone who had had enough.

“That’s tough. Are they playing tributes or originals?”

Lonel’s continuing question earned a subtle look from both Selys and Odena. His body was still tense as ever, yet he sounded nothing short of calm. There was the slightest hint of his distaste from earlier, but that was barely perceptible too. She took a drag from her cigarette, trying to figure out where he was heading — and why. Silvenus, on the other hand, had rearranged his face into the amused expression from before.

“Triubtes for tonight. Some of our guests might not be familiar with their work otherwise, given the large number of new faces,” he said, creasing his brows over his mask, and offering a darkly curious stare. “Forgive me, if I’m frank, but I feel like you have a proposition for me, Mr. Morninger.”

Odena did have the exact same feeling.

The music overhead began to quiet ever so slowly. A sign that the start was near, perhaps. Silvenus glanced up when the lights began to dim, then brighten again.

Lonel put out his smoke on the closest glass ashtray, and his hand pulled Odena a touch closer with a gentle tug.

“If you need people, I can get around a guitar, and she was the lead singer back at home in our school band. We’re also familiar with all the big hits of the last decade, so we could fill in for the time being.”

“A musical couple, I see,” Silvenus purred in a suddenly deeply intrigued manner. He conjured a wide, yet somehow sharp smile on his face. “It must have been fate that brought us together tonight then. It would be much help, if you could do that, Mr. and Mrs. Morninger. Alongside a fair compensation for your trouble, of course.”

Surprise would have been an understatement to what Odena was struck with. She kept her face friendly, nodding along, but she moulded into Lonel’s side sharp as a sign to elaborate on his train of thought immediately when the opportunity arose.

“Well, I wouldn’t have thought what a turn this event would take,” Selys commented, his words edged with jest for the public ear. “Although I had the pleasure of hearing them both in their respective roles separately, and I must say, they are definitely great candidates, Silvenus.”

Lonel spared a sharp glance at Selys, but only for a moment.

Silvenus put his palms together when the next dimming and brightening danced through the room, glancing towards the stage this time. “Excellent, wonderful. I’d like to ask for a minute then, to talk to the present members. Just a minute.” And with that, he slipped into the shadows of the half-lit ballroom.

Odena leaned towards Lonel’s shoulder, half turning to Selys too. “Would you please let in on us, too?”

She let her voice drip with a hint of her awakening frustration. She didn’t mind trying something with more risk, but she was never for improvisation. Not this kind, anyway.

Selys drew up a brow in support of her question.

“He must have been one of him.” Lonel scratched at his short beard, a habit Odena knew to be a nervous movement since he could grow it out. “And he seemed the type who could get us to the rest of them. If not, then the attention will.”

“Always an advantage to make the enemy owe you,” Selys smiled in impressed agreement.

On the far end, Silvenus’s faint figure seemed to finish talking to the assembled band members. His mask gleamed wickedly in the light while he turned to them, gesturing something Odean couldn’t see, but interpreted as an inviting motion. Her skin prickled from the possibility that he might see them clearly even through the shadowed distance.

“If they’re not trapping us first.” Her words met with a half-lidded, waiting set of eyes from Lonel. “Keep the possibility that he realised what and who we are. Just to stay alert.”

A small smile — barely but a smirk, really, found Lonel’s lips. “Look at you preaching caution, after dragging us here in the first place.”

They made their way to the stage, leaving Selys behind, and pushing through bodies at some points. It didn’t go unnoticed how Lonel made way to her with his hands, paying attention to that none of them touched her if it wasn’t necessary.

“I’ve had a great mentor to learn from,” she said, matching his casually accusatory tone nonetheless. It should have been evident that none of them were to sit around and wait until Selys alone figured something out. Not with all at stake.

They climbed backstage, joining the figures waiting in the ominous darkness of the curtains. Silvenus wore a dark smile, but a welcoming posture.

“Band, they would be your mates for the next forty-five minutes, the least. Go easy on them.” He then turned to Lonel and Odena. “Thank you for your offer, again. I’ll make sure our people are here until you finish, and after that, your food, drink and entertainment will be on the Phobia.”

“That is most generous of you, Mr Galhart.”

Odena reciprocated his smile, seeking a hold in Lonel’s warm touch on her back. Her mind clouded just a touch, yet it cleared as soon as it came. So, the cigarette truly neutralised mindreading from the vampires, just as Selys claimed. That, at least, was a relief.

However, it also confirmed Lonel’s previous statement about Silvenus.

“Alright, warm up to each other as much as possible before we start, and make the evening shine,” was the last thing Silvenus said, before he departed to the front.

The three members eyed them with a united gaze that bordered on curiosity and disdain. Two men and a woman, dressed in what seemed a fusion of blackened leather and dark satin. The harsh, expressive make-up on their faces only sharpened their look.

The woman stepped forth first, a gum livid between her teeth.

“Which one of you sings?” she asked in a rather soft voice. It did not go much with the look.

Odena stepped forward, extending a hand. “Livia Morninger, nice to meet you.”

“A delight.” She looked down at her hand, then back at her face. “Sing for me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sing for me. We need to check if you match with tonight’s tone. If not, that gruff should do behind you.”

Odena retreated her tongue from her cheeks which she pushed into, and met the woman’s nonchalant eyes. If they wanted to get rid of her, then they should do better than that. She inhaled softly and began a song she couldn’t get out of her head when she first started to wonder about joining the school band. Her voice came out rusty and in clear need of oiling. But, it wasn’t half bad. She sang the lyrics, hitting most of the notes clearly, and the others a touch twisted, yet not breaking the harmony. She added her own flair to many parts, even those that she experimented with the family during holidays.

In the end, the two men stepped beside the woman too.

Odena’s throat dried out, not used to such a use anymore. She felt Lonel’s presence beside her, close and ready.

The woman shrugged, nodding towards the water bottles on a little stool, while the shorter of the men handed Lonel an electronic guitar. “Good enough. I’m Marcelin, this is Jerico,” she gestured to the tall, lanky man. Then towards the shorter, bulkier one. “And that is Bichtra. Here’s the setlist. Study it, while we tune in, and follow our lead outside. That goes to you too, wolfman.”

Lonel grunted, plucking some strings and visibly cracking the arrogant demeanour on all the members for a moment, as if to wordlessly say he didn't have faith in his skill in vain, after all. Odena crossed her arms at the fact he had a more well-maintained skillset.

“Huh.” Jerico didn’t add more, but he did pluck at his own guitar. Soon enough, the two men began a routine of some kind, harmonising, and what seemed to practicing some passages. Bichtra joined them with his drums here and there. Odena, in the meantime, earned a little from Marcelin’s grace. Turned out, she was the keyboardist and one of a kind at that. She could help Odena work out some of the kinks before a staff member arrived to tell them it was time.

Odena felt at her neck. It was a long time ago since she stepped onto the stage, let alone was expected to rule it. She wouldn’t have been nervous for the crowd if she had known there weren’t people — creatures among them that actively feasted on her kind. Yet there she was, about to entertain them.

The things she didn’t do to gather information.

Lonel’s palm touched the small of her back, the soft fabric of her dress thin enough so she could feel the calluses on his skin. She turned to him, finding his overly calm, almost bored expression close. “Ready?”

“Hardly.”

He scoffed a half-joking sound. “Just like old times, then.”

“Just like old times,” she huffed out a short laugh, walking close beside Lonel. The bustling outside began to quiet, people’s chattering softening into a barely audible buzz. “It better work, Nel, or I’m going to rip your head off.”

They took their places at the edge of the stage. Even in this situation, a kind of nostalgia found her. Lonel, wrinkled and hardened with age, seemed to morph back into their teenage years as well. And he truly did, as he leaned over to her ear and whispered like he did back then.

“If it doesn’t, you are more than welcome to. But you wanted to come, and you wanted information. So, it’s time to sing for your supper, Blossom.”

[reccyls]

Is it ok to ask for a quick rundown on alfons recent event? ^ ^

Sorry for taking so long to get to this! But sure, let me summarize:

Kate and Alfons go on a mission to investigate some kind of club or society that is supposed to be for music lovers. It's suspected that something shady is going on behind the scenes.

(They ended up in this assignment because Alfons and Liam got drunk on absinthe and Alfons egged Liam into playing the knife game, so Roger tattled on them to Victor.)

And as it turns out, it is a club for music lovers, true. It also just so happens to basically be a giant sex party. That's the secret that was going on behind the scenes. And Alfons of course knew this was happening, and actually knows a lot of the people there from his prior outings. He attracts a ton of attention, partiularly from one of his acquaintances: a busty blonde lady named Isla. Kate notices that, and can tell that Isla is in love with Alfons.

Kate knows that Alfons still continues going out to meet people and help to provide an escape from life's harships and tragedies via pleasure and his illusions. The way he helps people is one of the things she fell in love with, after all. But while she knows that she has Alfons's heart, it still doesn't feel good to know that people are looking at him like that. So, she excuses herself to go calm down by eating some cake.

And when she returns to Alfons, she finds him lounging on a couch without his coat, with a very distinct post-sex look about him. Alfons cheerfully admits that he's been drugged, and at first Kate assumes he was poisoned, but Alfons makes it very clear that it's an aphrodisiac. Kate asks who drugged him, and Alfons says that it was an accident. But at any rate, it's very effective, almost enough to make him willing to accept any advance from someone that isn't her. So, how about it? Will she be his partner?

Kate is about to respond, but she becomes suddenly aware of everyone's eyes on them. Particularly on Alfons. Everyone is looking at Alfons with desire, and Kate doesn't want to deal with that, so she drags Alfons out and finds the two of them a private room. Then, she tells Alfons that she'll go look for an antidote, so he should stay put and lock the door until she gets back.

Kate runs all over the place looking for an antidote, and ends up in the garden outside. She sees Isla, who tells her that the antidote is located in the bottom of a pool. But who'd be stupid enough to jump in a pool when it's this freezing outsi-

Kate, that's who. Kate leaps into the pool with no hesitation looking for the antidote, and that's enough to shake Isla enough for her to admit that she lied. There isn't an antidote, and why is Kate going that far for Alfons anyway? Kate answers, "Because he's my lover and I have to protect him."

Isla then admits that she was the one who mixed an aphrodisiac into the champagne to try and get Alfons to drink it. However, Alfons realized right away that there was aphrodisiac in it. He still drank it anyway.

However, he says, "If you want to have sex with me, fine. I'll make you feel good. However, I will not love you. My lover, ah, Kate's her name. She's a very kind person, and she tolerates my lifestyle. But, I made a promise with her. Any loving kiss, any time I say, 'I love you' and mean it, that's for her only. So if you want empty kisses and purely physical pleasure, then go ahead. But if you're looking for love, then look somewhere else."

Isla then says she doesn't know why Alfons is so entranced with her; Kate replies that she's the one who's entranced by him. Then Isla does say that Kate has the worst taste in men, which she can't deny.

And here Alfons shows up, complaining about how he's being badmouthed by everyone and inserts himself into their girls' talk. Isla apologizes for everything, and Alfons says that he'll give her a reward for coming clean: Roger.

Roger thought that he was backup for Alfons investigating an illegal drug trade, but Alfons says that he lied to Roger and this is payback for snitching on him. However, Isla interrupts them as she immediately develops a crush on Roger and asks for his name. Alfons takes the opportunity to grab Kate and leave before Roger can react.

They find their way to an empty room, where Alfons laughs that Kate is completely soaked and starts to dry her off. Kate apologizes for not being able to find an antitode, but Alfons tells her not to worry about it. The discomfort from the aphrodisiac wasn't as bad as it looked, and anyway, the best way to relieve the symptoms was to release one's sexual desire anyway, not an antitode.

Kate asks indignantly why he didn't say so earlier, and Alfons reminds her that she was the one who immediately ran out of the room to find an antitode without letting him speak. And she can't refute that.

And then Alfons goes to sit on the bed, and asks what Kate wants to do. Kate first asks him if he knew something like this would happen; and Alfons admits that he did know that Isla would be here and that she had feelings for him, though he didn't expect her to hand him an aphrodisiac. When Kate asks why he still drank it anyway, he answers that he took it to prove his loyalty to her. He realized that she had been feeling sulky and jealous, so he wanted her to know that even if he was under the effects of an aphrodisiac, he'd still stay faithful to her.

(As he's explaining everything, he pours them both some wine and Kate drinks as they talk. He had also laced that wine with aphrodisiac)

Aaand this is where the porn begins ;)

[iniziare]

FILL IN WITH DETAILS ABOUT YOUR MUSE AS IF THEY WERE A CHARACTER IN A DATING SIM. (🤭)

NAME — Yelan PROFESSION — (Intelligence officer tied to a certain logical governing body) Mistress of the Yanshang Teahouse, after having fully cleaned it up and turned its reputation around. And it may function as something else after hours, but shh, you wouldn't know.

WHERE THEY CAN BE FOUND — In Chenyu Village (or Fontaine), seated among its locals, engaging in casual discussions surrounding its teas, that year's harvest, tales of days gone by, or perhaps she'll be in Liyue Harbor where she could be doing similar things, much to Ganyu's eternal confusion as to how easily she indulges in such social things, despite not being an extrovert by nature. If she's been too stagnant and repetitive, or threatens to be, she'll flip a dice and possibly find herself in Inazuma. And if we're speaking work (and even outside of what's 'required' of her, then it is, of course, the Chasm.

FAVORITE FOOD TYPE — Cuisine of the... 'piquant' variety, or as some would likely describe it: food that feels like 'your stomach has descended into the deepest pits of hell'. It's not out of any sort of 'enjoys pain' or 'masochistic' type of reasoning, but simply that she grows bored of food as she does of other things. Once you try something even slightly spicy, food that isn't simply... loses more and more flavor.

FAVORITE ALCOHOLIC DRINK — Alcohol is not exactly her thing. She could indulge in it, but she's not the greatest fan of how it affects a person mentally. But, in some situations, I could see her reaching for cocktails like a kir, or a martini (simple red, or we're going fruity, like a blueberry martini to also match the aesthetic), I could also see her reaching for a vesper actually (don't sigh at me), or something more refreshing and unique like a Blueberry Lavender Fizz. Now, if we apply the same logic to her with drinks as we do with food, that she gets 'bored' because she's veered into spicy. Then we need to look at unique and bolder drinks with twists (I had to research a bit): a Blackberry Jalapeño Smash is an option, although tequila doesn't scream Yelan... hmm, perhaps a Boulevardier if we're not adding traditional spice to it, the Blood and Sand is another option when I look at the mashup of ingredients, though the dash of absinthe, while certainly daring, could be as much of a firm 'no' as it could be an intrigue. Any way, I've rambled on this more than enough.

WHERE THEY WOULD GO ON A DATE — Something simple, actually. A walk in the open air would already be nice. She's not a 'thrill seeker', she simply seeks to find something different from her usual, which something as simple as a walk when it's dark overhead, or even specifically out in the bright sun, would already be.

IDEAL GIFT — Yelan is not materialistic whatsoever, and finds the strongest appreciation in those who pique her interest. So this, I guess she has in common with Serval: your time. But outside of that, if insistent, she's quite curious by trade and nature, and comes from a nation deeply rooted in old traditions and thorough history, which is something that's very firmly rooted in her. In that light, if she gets to be exposed to something that she doesn't know, especially in presence of one she enjoys the company of? Perfect.

HOW MANY DATES UNTIL THEY KISS — Considering that she doesn't really "date", or hold desire to really 'find someone', this isn't really applicable. The one time that I have it set for her that it happened (hi hello, the ship main verse), it was on the first, but the date followed a fair bit of time in which interest kind of... simmered and grew. So it wasn't one's usual 'first date'. If we're talking physical altercations, it is definitely quite fast.

Tagged by: @resolutepath 💙 (Do you wanna do it for Ning, by chance?) Tagging: @delusionaid (Wriothesley) @daybreakrising (Blade) @avaere (it'd be comical for Veritas, but only if you wanted to do it again) @aventvrina and anyone else who'd like to do it, feel free to say I tagged you. I'd love to read it.

[sagesilentfire]

Man she's complicated to draw… but I wouldn't have it any other way. I can't say too much about Absinthe, since if I ever put together a WoF roleplay she'll be a central character. But yeah, eyebags for days, lots of weird jewelry, and Wine Aunt (literally, she's named after the green of an alcoholic drink). Her sail and wing markings aren't natural, but they aren't tattoos either. She is not a hybrid, just pure SeaWing.

[transmogrified-in-the-void]

Chapter 3

Cato gets to join in on a practice sesh of Bardic Inspiration! It goes great!

Virtue sips at their coffee as the TV broadcast plays. “Notorious villain The Disparaged Baron has finally been apprehended by A-Class hero Brass Dagger. While their fight left many without a place to sleep, many more will no longer have to fear for their lives. The Hero Agency of America has offered to help rebuild those who had their homes destroyed. My name is Daven Blockett, and this is the morning news.”

The TV then shows a short video of the end of the fight. Disparaged Baron, dressed as a Musketeer, runs at Bronze Dagger with a thin sword. Bronze Dagger sidesteps the charge, and throws Baron up 20 feet into the air. There’s a glimmer as Dagger throws something, and the footage cuts to the main news desk.

“I can’t imagine doing that.” Airael walks into the living room and sits next to Virtue on the couch.

“Doing what, Hero work?” Virtue asks as they take another sip.

“I guess. I mostly mean getting involved with Powered fights.” He clarifies. “I know my Power would technically be classified as Consumption, but it still gives me an exponential boost to my physical limits. Which means that if I got involved with a fight, no matter which side I was on, both villain and Hero would try and get me out of the picture first.”

Virtue nods along as he explains. “I couldn’t even imagine what they’d do to Gemini if she got into a Power fight, or Absinthe if they-” Virtue cuts themselves off, not wanting to finish the sentiment. Airael understands, though, and sighs.

“This shit sucks.”

“More than I could imagine.”

Gemini wanders in with a piece of toast, and she raises an eyebrow at the now glum mood of the living room. “Did the kid get into a car accident? What’s with the mood?”

“Powers.” Airael says. Gemini takes a big bite of her toast, and takes her time chewing it as she thinks over the implications of that word.

Gemini swallows, and stomps over in front of the TV. She faces the pair on the couch with a sharp glare. “We can get back to the doom and gloom of our life later. Absinthe has everything set up, so all we need is Kid Strings to get his ass over here. So get your asses in there right now.”

Virtue stands up and drains the rest of their coffee. “You’re bad at pep talks.” They note, and Gemini whacks them.

“Yeah, but I got you going so I win.”

Airael gets to his feet, and wraps Gemini up in his arms. “You’re right, we gotta go make some kick ass music.”

Virtue turns off the TV and moves to the emptied out master bedroom that has become the practice space of Bardic Inspiration. Absinthe is taking out her old beat up electric guitar and leaning it up on the wall. Everything else has been set up, there’s sheets of music that Michael left behind on the one and only table in the room.

Absinthe turns around and lights up. “Oh! Hey V, didn’t see you there.”

“Most people don’t.” Virtue shrugs as they make their way to the chair put up just for them. “It’s a gift.”

“Man, what I’d do for that.” Absinthe groans.

“For being unnoticed?”

“For having a gift.”

The familiar heavy click of the front door opening cuts through the conversation before Virtue can make a response, and they hear Gemini welcome whoevers at the door with a saccharine voice. Airael mutters something, and the voice of Cato responds monotonously.

Three sets of footsteps start to make way to the practice room, and Absinthe starts to move around.

“V, he’s here, oh my god he’s here, we get to play together, I can’t believe it, can you believe it? I’m so excited, you have no-” She cuts herself off as Gemini, Airael, and Cato show up in the doorframe. “Hi!”

Gemini slides into the room as Absinthe rushes forwards to greet Cato. She shakes his hand and drags him inside, making a wide gesture to the humble setup. “Welcome to where the magic happens!”

“Uh, cool.” Cato mutters as he steps out of Absinthe’s grip. His eyes flick around, first to Virtue, then to the drum set, then to the electric guitar harmlessly sitting against the wall. “You guys, uh, already have a guitar.”

“Told ya.” Gemini elbows Cato’s ribs, making him flinch. “We didn’t know if you only had an acoustic or not. There’s also some music for the songs we’re gonna practice today on the table, if you wanna look through them.” She gestures to the handwritten sheet music, and walks behind her drum set and drops down in the seat. She grabs her drumsticks and starts to idly rap them on the rim of the snare.

Airael makes his entrance quietly, and struts to the purple and gold bass on the stand next to the drums. As he slides it on, he glances at Cato. “Last chance to jump ship, kid.”

Cato’s hand twitches, and he storms to the guitar and slings it over his shoulder. “I’m not a kid. You guys aren’t that much older than me.”

Virtue raises an eyebrow. Airael turns around and shrugs, looking bored. “We’re all out of college, and by the looks of it you’d barely’ve started if you went. Kid.”

The pair lock into a staredown, with Airael betraying no emotion in his eyes, while Cato’s are laser focused in to catch anything. Gemini stifles a snicker, and her green eyes light up with amusement as she catches Absinthe’s eye.

Her eyes dart between Cato and Airael, and wiggles her eyebrows with a large grin. Absinthe almost chokes as the laugh tries to escape her mouth, but she holds it back. Gemini and Absinthe try to hold it in, but it’s too much, and they burst into a fit of giggles and laughter, causing Airael and Cato to stop whatever they were doing.

“What’s so funny?” Cato asks, hands gripping the neck of the guitar. 

Airael whips his head around to Virtue. “What did she do?” He asks with wide eyes. “What the fuck did she do?”

Virtue looks at Gemini, who tilts her head forwards and does an overexaggerated wink, causing Absinthe to break down with laughter. Virtue sighs, and pats Cato’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. They’re like this sometimes.”

They look back to see Airael now leaning over the drums and talking to Gemini, who’s grin has gotten larger as she shakes her head. Absinthe is leaning on a wall, trying to catch her breath, but sometimes still releasing a few giggles. They sigh again, bring their thumb and pointer finger to their mouth, and whistle. The band jump at the sudden noise. Airael clutches his bass, Gemini holds her drumsticks in an ‘X’ in front of her, and Absinthe takes an absurd looking fighting stance. Cato takes a step back.

“Get to practicing. We don’t have all day.” Virtue says, and they make direct eye contact with each band member. “And we certainly don’t have our guest here all day either.”

With that, Absinthe jumps into action. She double checks that Airael and Gemini are all good to go, and makes sure that the guitar Cato’s borrowing is in tune and works fine. Once everyone is set to go, she connects the microphone and takes out the piece of paper that has the practice “schedule” on it.

“Uh, it says we’re practicing ‘Truth or Dare’, ‘No Regrets’, and ‘Sandcastles’ today. Why does it say ‘Sandcastles’ in there, that’s a piano solo.” She looks back at Airael. “Rae, you wrote the list.”

Airael shrugs. “I thought that having your best song for our guitarist would be a good idea.”

Cato mutters something about not being a guitarist while Absinthe looks at the scribbles with narrowed eyes. Then she crumples up the paper and throws it at the table. “Okay, we can do that. But let’s start with a quick runthrough of ‘No Regrets’. We didn’t play that at the last venue, so I want to see what needs some work.”

Cato flips through the stack of papers, and his eyes flick over each page with the same sort of focus he gave Airael. Then he runs forwards, drops them on the table, and runs back into place.

Gemini raps the beat with her drumsticks, and then she and Airael jump into a hard and fast rhythm. She leans forwards into the microphone set up over her drums, and screams.

“OH MY GOD THIS REALLY FUCKING SUCKS! I STILL LOVE YOUR STUPID FUCKING MUG! GOT HIT BY A FUCKING TRUCK! AND YOU’RE HERE STILL GIVING FUCKING FUCKS!” Her voice is guttural and animalistic as her hands move wildly across the drumset. She holds the last vowel as the bass and drums stop and the sound drops away.

She closes the word harshly, and restarts her playing; albeit, more restrained. Airael joins in at the same time, playing the low and slow baseline as Cato takes a deep breath, and starts playing with everyone for the first time. 

He plays incredibly well, and although the melody he plays on the guitar is different from what Michael played, it still fits well with everything else. But Virtue already knew that Cato was good, they knew that he would fit in with the band sonically. They’re waiting for Absinthe to sing.

Absinthe looks at Virtue, and nods. She rolls her shoulders back, stands tall, and opens her mouth.

“I cried alone again today.” Her voice is the winter sun cutting through the abyssal surrounding darkness. “It’s hard to heal this heartbreak. I’d rather have loved you here, but you decided to disappear.”

The weight of grieving a love and friendship suddenly lost shoves its way into Virtue’s chest as the words lilt off Absinthe’s tongue. Cato jolts, but doesn’t stop playing as he moves his eyes to look at the singer.

“Hey, it’s me, it’s about us. You said we’re still in love. And I cry curled in my bed, about the last text you sent. Who could have guessed that this is how our story ends?” Even through the waves of heartbreak and sadness, Absinthe smiles as she lowers the microphone. Gemini and Airael play their parts with the anger they’ve always infused them with, and Cato moves his fingers across the frets. He plays a dissonant melody, counteracting the smooth major that Absinthe had been singing. Absinthe’s grin gets larger.

As they continue through the song, it’s a constant fight of three emotions. Anger, from Gemini and Airael, grief, from Absinthe, and desperate confusion from Cato. The sound gets louder and louder, everyone fighting more and more, until Cato suddenly strikes a power chord, and the drums and bass stop. Airael and Gemini are looking at Cato with curiosity as Absinthe brings the mic to her lips one last time.

“I hold no regrets.” She sings lightly. “You were my best friend. But this is the end.”

There’s a still, anticipating moment. The air holds its breath as the last of the grief fades into acceptance, and fades into nothing. Absinthe breaks the silence with a ragged gasp, and she rubs at her eyes for a moment before looking at Cato.

“Are you sure you don’t want to be our guitarist?” Her voice is no longer crystalline, but instead thick and heavy. Her fingers pick at the edge of her skirt and the jeans beneath it. 

Cato takes a moment. He looks at Gemini, then Airael, then to his own hands holding a guitar that isn’t his own. “I- uh.” He stammers, and clutches the guitar tightly. “I, I think so.”

A shuddering weight is released from Absinthe. She grins, nods, and turns to the rest of her bandmates. “Cool! So I think we did really good at the first few verses, but at the second chorus we accidentally got a little lost in the middle of everything and it took some time to get back, so let’s start around there.”

Virtue huffs a laugh and shakes their head. They knew, of course, that Cato would say yes. Absinthe is the golden apple just out of reach, the clear water you’ll never drink, but just knowing it exists is enough to sate an appetite.

[delphoart]

Skyte trivia!!

As requested on twitter, here's some Skyte trivia for you all!

Her birth name is Skinna Pryte. She hates it.

Knows how to play the organ.

Gets cranky if she doesn’t get exactly 8 hours of sleep.

Getting magic for the first time dyed her hair black and made it spike up. She prefers it down and has tried everything to fix it.

Has neck pain from having to look up at everybody (shorty).

Fully believes she came up with the S, and anything before her time was just prophesizing her coming.

Bisexual, with a strong feminine preference.

Favorite foods are pork adobo and cherries.

Horoscope is Scorpio, which checks out from what I've gathered lol.

Absolutely refuses to swear, she will however come up with colorful ways to insult you otherwise.

She is chronically OFFline. Mostly anti-tech. She somehow still needs to touch grass.

Active minimalist, other than books and CDs.

She has made most of her clothes by herself. Sewing is one of her hobbies but she's very self-conscious about it.

Hate lawyers. They usually out-word her lmao.

Refuses to use written contracts when making deals, only verbal. This both goes in her favor and backfires on her.

Secretly a big punk/metal/industrial fan. She will take this to the grave.

Drink of choice is absinthe.

Magic only works on things with a soul, she is SOL with robots and such.

She does have a small nub for a tail, hidden by her clothes.

Her whole family is quite small, she is still the smallest though.

[imaginependergast]

New Pendergast newsletter

It's so nice to have something after Angel of Vengeance. In this one the authors ask DALL-E to come up with AI images of Pendergast and co. plus some captions, also AI generated.

Going through the pics and the authors commentary...

The first pic is of Pendergast sitting by the fire drinking absinthe in a rocks glass with a single votive candle in a glass on an end table. As Preston points out, "He looks like a male underwear model from the 90s; the hair isn’t right; and he’s way too young". Hard agree. But, as the author suggests, he does look good for a younger!Pendergast. Hair is still wrong, though.

Next we have Constance throwing Diogenes into a volcano. It's bad. For one her hair is way too long (as is the case in all the pics she's generated in), her dress is wrong, the background is bad, and Diogenes is dressed like Count Olaf in the Series of Unfortunate Events books. And yes, as Child says, he looks like he's falling "while acting out Hamlet’s scene with Yorick’s skull." Also peep those terrible AI hands.

Next up is Vinnie who is apparently a more saggy version of Dennis Farina. As the authors say, he has way too much hair, needs to be a bit heavier, and get a shave.

Then we have Leng in his lab. His face is sort of half-skeletonized but I think he actually looks like a Fallout ghoul with hair. Also for some reason the lines in his forehead look like the edge of a mask, like the skeleton face is a mask. And of course, AI fingers.

And we have Diogenes. The authors give it a 10/10, with the only real issue being his beard is too long. Personally, I think his good eye being wrong is too noticeable (it's neon green, not hazel) and his shade of hair is a bit too artificially red. It's actually not too far off from the image we got in the last Angel of Vengeance newsletter but here his face is a bit less rounded and his cheekbones are more pronounced. I do think his hair cut and style is better here, though. Hm. Gonna be honest, this nearly works for me. Nearly.

AND then we have Diogenes seducing Constance. Diogenes as played by Henry Cavill. Seriously, dark hair, dark eyes and wearing what looks like a costume piece. Constance also looks like she was pulled from a generic romance novel cover. Semi-hilariously, based on the AI description, Child says, "That shrinking violet is not my Constance.".

Finally we have Constance playing the harpsichord and the harpsichord has her name stamped into the side in ALL CAPS. Fan-fucking-tastic. Doesn't look like her at all. Also it looks like "the back yard of 891 Riverside extended all the way to New Jersey" (Child).

I have to admit it gave me a chuckle, above and beyond it being content. It also seems that, generally, the authors aren't fans of generative AI since they make sure to note that the abilities of the program are built off the backs of scraping art and writing, usually without permission. And honestly, I seriously do not like AI art and writing. As much of it is the issue of permission and potentially causing problems with artists/writers trying to make a living off their trade I just find it soulless. Seriously, if you ever want fanmade Pendergast stuff, there's artists and fic writers (like me!) that are interested in commissions or maybe even requests.

Still kinda enjoy that mid 20s Pendergast, though.