#hopefully no one takes this in bad faith lol

[chronichlesofnillory]

I genuinely think people need to separate magic and spirituality/religion way more.

I haven't done "new" magic in over a month and I feel less bad about it than I thought I would.

There's so many posts out there asking for advice on "getting back into magic after taking time off" and I always thought they were a little weird because that kind of ebb and flow is really normal for pretty much everything you learn outside of an academic or workplace setting. (even in school you get break periods)

For 15 years I've been learning solely on my own everything from calculus through khan academy to polymer clay through youtube tutorials and it's just natural *for me personally* to go through periods of great interest and massive skill improvement in conception and technique and then just~~~ stop for a while.

The server I left was doing this 100 days of witchcraft thing where the point (I gathered) was to show that even little things like stirring intention in your coffee counted as magic and you shouldn't feel so bad that you're not doing ceremony every day. I tried to participate and got about 5 days in before that plus a lot of other things made me leave (and tbh I should have left earlier because it was not a good place for me).

What struck me most was that unlike seemingly everyone else, I felt worse when I listed things like "read 2 chapters of magic book" or "made weekly offering." It felt more like I was just trying to come up with something--anything that would make me feel like I was participating and "being productive." It didn't feel like it was making me "see magic in my everyday" because I already felt that way because I've been doing magic my whole life--in the way I sing, in the way I move energy when I stretch and exercise, in the way I talk to the plants and animals, in the way I make offerings to my room or an intention, in the way I cook like Tita in "Like Water for Chocolate" or the way I would astral travel without knowing it. When I had to list out all the "magical things" I did every day they felt *less* magical and more like what a "that girl" influencer would put on their instagram post to show how productive they've been.

I genuinely think people need to separate magic and spirituality and religion way more. Magic is at its core, a skill/art/science. It is not 100% spirituality/religion. Your paganism or spirituality might influence your magic or interact with it (like how my animism interacts with how I work with symbols or how I ask my divination tools to come to life before I use them), but I truly believe there's a great deal of magic that exists outside of spirituality/religion/etc.

I wish secular and atheistic witches got more respect and exposure and credit. I wish there were more books and really popular influencers and discords that are as populated as the ones that spend 60-70% of their talking about deities and religious holidays. I wish it felt easier to get into spaces with other magical people where even if you weren't doing "everyday magic" you still felt welcome to talk and share your magic and it wasn't just crickets when you did.

It's just so weird to see so much content out there basically enforcing the kind of "hustle culture" type productivity mindset of "you need to be doing this every day if you want to connect to other people on this or share anything about it.

[batsplat]

breaking a blog policy of non-engagement with active discourse unless explicitly asked about it,, below the cut,, I intend this to be a one-off thing, look away

seen some snarking about this article on the race dot com about where marc fits into the current title fight, and specifically this paragraph:

because ofc it's some kind of grievous sin to equate the current two title contenders with the two title contenders in 2015, one of whomst was well past his prime and the other who in many ways had a deeply untidy season. the argument might be that the current spec ducati has a bike advantage over marc, which. you'll never guess how the 2015 yamaha measured up against the 2015 honda. and yeah, it sure is embarrassing how the current title contenders chuck away bucket loads of points through sheer stupidity. after all, when racing in the wet in misano, it's unforgivable to pit at the wrong time and emerge with only one point - why not simply crash and emerge from that weekend with zero points instead? imagine finishing second behind marc in those conditions, when you could instead swap bikes far too late and finish a lowly fifth

it's worth putting that paragraph in context of what the piece was actually saying:

all of this is categorically true. it doesn't mean marc might not still win this year's championship if both jorge and pecco make enough mistakes, but quite obviously those two are closer to the 2015 title contenders than 2017. in the former, marc could not bank on a consistent pace advantage, in the latter he could; this feels like quite a straightforward point to be making. dovi's phillip island stinker did kill his championship momentum - and given the sheer consistency of performances jorge and pecco have put in when it comes to their pace, it would be very surprising to see an equivalent from those two. don't even get me started on whatever the fuck maverick vinales was doing that year after like,, the first five races, which lack of a dominant bike is quite frankly not enough to excuse. the rest of the article assesses marc's chances entirely fairly, essentially expanding on the argument that you just wouldn't expect that kind of consistent performance edge that he would need to overturn the points deficit. (I personally think marc is a little more likely to be a title threat than the author of the article does, though I also don't fundamentally disagree with anything specific being said; mainly I just feel vibes-wise that sprint races have made title fights insanely volatile.) he could still win - but in terms of how he compares to the opposition, there is no argument whatsoever to be made that this is not closer to 2015 than 2017. even if you believe this is only due to bike difference, in which case I think you are possibly giving 2017 dovi and vinales a little too much credit, the points raised in the article still stand up to scrutiny

it is perhaps inevitable that people will deify the greats of the past - even more so if they dislike the top riders of the present and feel that they are undeserving of their current success. it does, however, seem to come along with a skewed understanding of the actual greats in question, of where they were strong and where they faltered. valentino and lorenzo had two title fights, both of which were error-strewn affairs and hardly their best seasons. sprints have helped further distort perceptions of how error-prone these current riders really are, because at the end of the day neither martin nor pecco are on course for a radically different error rate than the title contenders in 2009. lorenzo lost his head in jerez when he was the pre-race favourite and ended up crashing trying to overcompensate for his surprisingly poor pace, valentino had an absolute howler at le mans that makes misano this year from martin look like a paragon of good decision-making and composure under pressure, jorge practically handed the championship to valentino with back-to-back dnf's at donington and brno, valentino incidentally also crashed at donington and got extremely lucky to have a bike that was still rideable to fifth, then proceeded to just chuck it for absolutely no reason at indy with a mistake that was so obviously stupid and needless he showed up to misano with a donkey helmet. valentino followed up misano with a poor fourth in estoril because he got lost with the set-up that weekend - and buddy, if you think the gp24 bike advantage is bad, let me tell you a story about how yamaha/ducati/honda were doing back in the day compared to the field. fourth might as well have been last. (I don't love single manufacturer domination either, but let's not pretend like the gaps between bikes aren't way, way, way smaller than they were in '09.) then jorge, with momentum and opportunity on his side, gets so spooked by valentino's pace in practise he bins it on the very first lap of phillip island, essentially ending the championship fight then and there. neither of them deliver a particularly dignified performance in sepang. during this title fight, there were three instances of crashing out of the lead and one from a very close second. jorge martin and pecco bagnaia eat your hearts out

and 2015? the season that was actually being referenced in the championship? valentino was only in that championship fight due to his relentless consistency, a handful of starring performances and an ability to not completely fuck it when a few rain drops started falling. his pace was flat-out not good enough to be a title contender - if anything, on raw pace he was more competitive for a big chunk of 2016 than he had been the year before. he was qualifying abysmally in an era where the gaps between bikes were considerably larger, reflecting a far poorer performance than equivalent grid positions would nowadays, and certainly would have nothing to counter the consistency in qualifying the two title contenders this year have demonstrated. jorge had to work hard to come as close to losing that championship as he did, going through a bizarre and borderline embarrassing set of helmet visor issues early on in the season that he should never have allowed to happen. he was peak metronome that year, able to dominate and win from the front but otherwise rife with limitations, repeatedly performing poorly when he was put ever so slightly off-balance. in many ways, he got very lucky to not be penalised more for his horrendous silverstone performance. he was also helped by the gap between the factory yamahas and hondas to the field being so large, because otherwise some of his inconsistency would have cost him a hell of a lot more. both of their seasons had laughably obvious flaws that just about managed to offset each other's enough to make a title decider possible - but if you ever so slightly change the formula, if the qualifying format had still been different or the bike disparities larger or smaller or any of that, it would have probably tipped it quite strongly one way or the other. a battle of the titans it was not

none of this is to say that valentino or jorge are shit riders, or that marc is a fraud for letting himself be so thoroughly beaten by them in 2015 on what was ultimately still a competitive bike. at a certain point, however, you are comparing the current athletes with versions of the past greats who quite frankly did not exist 90% of the time. if you are sufficiently motivated, you can come up with pretty decent slander for anyone. it is also presenting an idealised version of the sport in the past that, again, did not exist. while the gp24's advantage over the field is substantial, if we are talking in terms of raw lap times, it is substantially less so than the gap the top few factory teams had in the past. the aliens did not dominate from 2007 to 2015 to the extent that they did because they were just so brilliant - they were performing at a high level, yes, but also nobody else really stood a chance. as hard as it may be to accept, when you have riders who so consistently have a pace advantage as pecco and martin do, including over the fellow riders on the same machinery, it is possible they may simply be doing an actual good job. and the more pecco adds to his resume, the more difficult it will become to not consider him in the same tier of rider as at least some of the aliens. yes, I am talking about lorenzo here - a man who incidentally did not convincingly pass the 'only good with one manufacturer' test that's already being dangled in front of pecco. if we really want to go into the weeds, it's worth pointing out that pecco's luck has also not been particularly fantastic this year, from mechanical gremlins at the le mans sprint to being wiped out by binder at the jerez sprint to the qualifying position at aragon working against him and losing out quite severely in what are at worst 60:40 racing incidents twice this season - sometimes, you do get punished a lot for relatively minor missteps. so yeah, if you want to compare the current trio of title contenders with anyone, then 2015 feels as good a place as any. sometimes the greats of the past did suck, idk what to tell you. they would be a hell of a lot more boring if they hadn't

[yinyuedijun]

TOKYO VICE | part 2

“Do you remember,” Suo begins, voice light, “how our master always talked about how important it is to engage with each other’s feelings?” You tense. “No,” you blurt out, and Suo laughs. “Of course not,” he plays along. “You were always so terrible at it. But I've been doing a bad job too, lately. So”—he reaches beneath your dress, hooks your thong with his fingers and starts pulling the fabric down your sticky thighs—“I wanted to have an honest conversation with you.” (Or: Tired of your lies and self-deception, Suo takes matters into his own hands and forces the truth out of you.)

12.8k words. suo x fem reader. deeply unserious yakuza au ft. yandere suo. mostly unrepentant smut, comedy, angst. warnings: sex work. nsft tags: afab reader, emotional sex, fingering, dacryphilia, orgasm denial, pussyjob, just the tip, creampie. suo is mean and makes you cry but there's no degradation, he's just a bastard lol. he also manhandles you a lot and you sit in his lap. dividers by @/cafekitsune!

part 1 here

You're surprised at Suo’s indifference to your sex life.

A month has gone by, and he’s made no comment on your habit of sleeping with customers, nor on the hours during which you come home—which are now even later than usual, since you have express permission to sleep with people and have no need to rush back to the penthouse after your ‘appointments’. And it isn't as if he's ignoring the reality of your late nights either. In a stunning show of respect for your personal freedom, he now actively offers to arrange for someone to pick you up from whichever love hotel you'll end up at. (You always decline, of course—if you're going to pretend to be his wife, you'd rather pretend to be a faithful one.)

Ironically, you had initially thought that Suo’s approval wouldn't matter either way. You had found the sex with your clients to be so uninspiring that it made you miss celibacy, so you were planning on stopping. But it turned out that you were deeply affected by the experience of sitting in Suo’s lap as he talked about his expectation of deciding whose cocks you should be allowed to take. It did something horrible to your sex drive, and thus you turned to work as your only outlet.

You spent around three weeks desperately trying to find a customer to satisfy your urges—or at the very least, to fuck you in a way that could get you to stop thinking of Suo whenever you got even a little horny. You were faced with utter failure in this pursuit, and in the end, bleakly resigned yourself to the reality that your shameful attraction to your best friend is incurable. You’ve now given up on the love hotel visits and simply take care of your needs with a vibrator instead. At least this way, you can actually say Suo’s name while you cum, rather than constantly reminding yourself to say your customer’s name instead.

The freedom of letting yourself fantasise about Suo has been exhilarating, but terrible for your friendship. It’s just difficult to sit across from him at breakfast and act like you haven't touched yourself at the table while he was gone, fantasising about what it would be like if he bent you over it and fucked you dumb. But you are a decent actor—hostessing demands that of you—so you don't think Suo has caught onto your carnal desires for him. Hopefully, he never will.

Another couple of weeks pass like this. Things are so calm that you come to believe that Suo is genuinely fine with you having some degree of sexual freedom, at least at work. This, however, turns out to be nothing short of naïvete.

After all, Suo is never forceful when he's upset with your decisions—but he also never fails to redirect them.

One spring evening, you show up at the kyabakura and are told that you’re only to see one customer tonight, and that it will be a private session.

“But we don't do private sessions here,” you say, blissfully unaware of your imminent suffering, “and we don't even have private rooms at this establishment.”

To this, your mamasan responds that the club is making an exception for this one guest, and that this guest has rented out the rooftop bar just to see you. When you ask just who this person might be, a look of mild panic flashes through her eyes. She grabs you by the shoulders and tells you to be careful. Just keep him happy and go home after, okay? she says. Don't go out for drinks, and definitely don't go to any love hotels. Don’t tell him your real name at any cost. You don't want to involve yourself with a man like him.

A sense of dread fills you as you step into the elevator.

A cool breeze greets you when you step onto the rooftop patio. Normally bustling with a raucous crowd, it almost feels eerie in its emptiness. Aside from the glow of the red light district beneath you and the city skyline in the distance, the only light is coming from the candles lighting one of the booths.

Your anxiety intensifies as you approach it.

You aren't very surprised at the sight of Suo lounging on a leather couch, dressed in full criminal regalia—infamous eyepatch, tassel earrings, and all. Sakura once mentioned that this club is connected to some colour gang, so you figure that the manager likely recognized Gui Yanzhao on sight. He probably suffered a minor angina when he did. The mamasan herself has no criminal ties to your knowledge, but she was probably informed that one of her girls was to entertain a high-profile yakuza, and she was likely worried that you'd been maimed in the process. Gui Yanzhao has a bit of a reputation for being a sadist, after all.

While you appreciate her concern, it is not Suo’s history of violence that scares you, but his history of antagonising you. On good days, there's nothing that delights him more than seeing you flustered or off-kilter. On bad days, there’s nothing that consoles him like spiteful retaliation against whomever's managed to piss him off—and you have, without a doubt, managed to piss him off.

You groan as soon as you see him, fearing the worst for your mental health.

“What are you doing here,” you say, and Suo smiles.

“Oh? You're not happy to see me?”

“No,” you moan. “How are you even here right now? Aren't you worried about being assassinated or something? Who did you terrorise to get an entire rooftop bar to yourself?”

“I have a very cordial relationship with all the major organisations on Keisei Street and was promised immunity during my visit tonight,” Suo says neatly. “And I didn't terrorise anyone. I simply walked into this fine establishment and politely asked for a private space to enjoy with my preferred hostess.”

Neither of you need to mention that the sight of the tassel earrings alone would be enough to terrorise someone. The manager probably felt like he was being extorted just from being on the receiving end of Suo’s smile. Actually, you currently feel like you're being extorted too.

You spend a good few moments giving him a look of open distress, to which he smiles.

“You know,” he says, “for a top-ranking hostess, you're not showing much hospitality right now.”

“Oh, for the love of—”

You force yourself to stop, remembering that you are, in fact, at work. Despite your mixed feelings about your industry, at the end of the day, you pride yourself on your work ethic. You take your job very seriously, and your job right now is to entertain your customer—even if said customer is your fake yakuza husband who is toying with you as a cat would a mouse.

Resigning yourself to a night of probable humiliation (one of Suo's greatest passions in addition to lying for comedy), you walk over to sit yourself next to him. And just like in Red Dragon’s lounge, Suo overturns the decision by pulling you into his lap. Your eyes go wide as he settles you on top of him—because unlike the intimate space of that crime scene, this is expressly forbidden behaviour at your club.

Also, unlike that other night, you are currently wearing the shortest dress imaginable and the tiniest thong you own.

You find yourself shivering as Suo's hand settles on your lower back, which is fully exposed thanks to the cut of your dress. You try not to focus on the calloused press of his fingers against your bare skin, but this is an exceedingly difficult endeavour, as his touch has been featured in your sexual fantasies for the past several weeks. Worse yet—your dress is now riding up your ass, and your thong isn't doing much to cover you. Whatever material his pants are made of—light, delicate—feels incredibly good against your thighs too.

If this continues, you might cum on the spot.

“Wait,” you say, and Suo raises a brow.

“Oh?”

“You aren't supposed to touch the hostesses here.”

He smiles. “I'm sure this place might be able to make an exception for me. But only if you are personally willing to, of course.”

“...”

Making an exception for him, in your current situation, would be among the worst decisions you've ever made. But after two of the most sexually frustrating months of your life, you’re ready to make horrible decisions.

“Fine,” you say. “But you better not cheap out on the drinks. The mamasan will only overlook this if you make it worth our while.”

“Of course,” Suo says. “Though I think she’d overlook a lot of things for me regardless.”

Suo makes good on his promise and orders a great deal of alcohol. All top shelf, of course. He laughs that his goal is to bring you to the number 1 ranking with his patronage alone tonight. It’s a hideous display of wealth.

As you pour him an absurdly expensive drink (a Hibiki 30 year-old blended whiskey), you reminisce on how little money you both used to have as teens. He had to be so careful with his wallet whenever he felt like visiting you—or rather, checking in on you—at work. Especially after your master passed. The two of you were very good about staying financially independent, but there was something comforting about your master’s promise to support you if anything ever happened.

With him gone, you and Suo had only financial paranoia and each other.

You guess that might have affected Suo more than you thought. Perhaps he didn't join the yakuza to spite you, but to support you. Certainly, he seems to enjoy spoiling you right now—treating you to drinks that would easily clear a year of his salary as a teen, buying out an entire night of your time at a high end club, renting out a whole floor just so that he can have you to himself. When you point out that his tab must be getting catastrophic, he only laughs.

“I did always say that I wanted to spend money on you,” he recalls. It had been a running joke during your days at the girls’ bar, when you scolded him for paying 3000¥ per hour just to visit you. You hated that he was wasting money on the red light district; he always replied that it wasn't a waste, because it was money spent to see you.

You feel your stomach flutter at the comment. You didn't think he'd remember words from so long ago. As a teenager, you had a tendency of clinging onto small, inconsequential moments with him because they brought you so much joy. You’ve always assumed he would have forgotten them, writing them off as instances of shallow teasing—but if he remembers, then surely they meant something to him too?

This would all make you feel sentimental if you weren't outrageously horny.

Suo has kept you on his lap the whole evening, even as you pour him drinks. Every movement to serve him has you involuntarily rubbing on his thigh, and you're quite certain at this point that he's been lifting your skirt up inch by inch with every casual touch on your waist. You don't bother accusing him of it, though. He'd just give you an innocent look and say that it was an accident. What a horrible man.

Accident or not though, it doesn't change the fact that your nearly bare cunt is pressed right against him. You keep trying to shift positions to pull down your skirt or lift yourself off him, but each attempt only makes it worse—brings the soft fabric of his pants right against your pussy, or makes your clit drag against his thigh, with only your thong separating your bodies. You try to suppress your arousal, but to your overwhelming horror, you can't seem to control yourself. You feel yourself getting wet, folds quickly becoming slick as you’re forced to grind on him. Your body, already warm from all the cocktails and shots, grows even hotter as you squirm on his lap.

In a desperate move to regain some control, you fully get up to reach for another drink. But then you feel a pair of hands on your waist, and Suo pulls you back onto his leg—this time forcing you to straddle it. You can't help the whimper that leaves you as your dripping cunt is spread and pressed against him, your clit throbbing against his thigh.

You pray that he doesn't notice the noise, so of course he does.

“Hm? Is something wrong?” Suo’s hand drifts over your waist and down to your thigh, where it ghosts over your bare skin. He leans in, and his voice is silky as he speaks into your ear: “You're moving around a lot. Do you need to get up?”

He’s giving you an out. It's quite considerate of him, as staying like this would not be a good decision. But for better or worse, you have a tendency to make bad ones.

“...no, I'm fine.”

“Good,” he says. “Let me know if you’re uncomfortable at all. I'm happy to move if you'd like.”

As if demonstrating, Suo shifts the leg you're sitting on, directly rubbing it against your core. You try not to shudder, feeling yourself get even wetter, clenching around nothing.

Trying to ignore how empty you are, you grasp for other topics of conversation, something to distract you. A little scrambled from the alcohol and catastrophically aroused, you of course land on the one that's been making your sex drive unmanageable.

“Remember a month ago,” you say, “how you talked about choosing who gets to touch me?”

“Yes.” His palm is warm against your thigh. He isn't moving it, so there's plausible deniability, but the amused tone of his voice suggests that he knows what he's doing. “Does that bother you?”

Of course it should bother you. It's a level of control that's appalling even to your anxiously-attached ass. But it’s also making you wetter right now. You try not to cry—from misery or sexual frustration, you're not sure.

“Well, yeah. Come on, Suo—even you should know that's really weird of you.”

“I do,” he says, smiling like he isn't admitting to deranged behaviour. “But how else am I supposed to know you're safe? Or even aside from being safe—if your needs are being met.” His hand runs up and down your thigh before settling at the hem of your dress. “I wouldn't want you to go unsatisfied. Who knows what kind of people you'd seek out if that happened.”

You actively stop yourself from putting your face in your hands. The gall of him saying this after forcing you into extended celibacy is beyond words, especially as you're being forced to rub up on him, effectively ruining every attempt you've made not to think about him sexually for the past several years. There are many materially consequential reasons for your decision to not fuck Suo—you should not be soaked through your panties, your thighs sticky with need, as you sit on his lap.

“That's,” you say lamely, “not very normal of you.” Trying for a less sensual conversation, you go for the reliable topic Sakura’s romance radar: “Also, if satisfaction was your concern, why did you choose Sakura? I love that guy a lot, but he has literally no experience. And I think he'd blue-screen trying to keep a friend with benefits. You know he can't handle a fuckbuddy.”

You are not trying to be mean. What Sakura objectively needs for his first time is someone sweet and emotionally competent and, most importantly, not an absolute freak like you. This is a failure of your character, not his.

You can hear Suo’s smile in his reply: “I don't think you're giving him enough credit.”

“He has the social skills of a feral cat.”

Suo genuinely laughs. “Sure, when he first came to Makochi. But he's much better now. Plus, you have no room to talk. I mean”—his breath sweeps over your ear—“you used to be pretty wild yourself. I've just domesticated you is all… though you've been misbehaving lately.”

His words do something horrible to you. Trying to distract yourself from the mounting sexual tension, you turn to him to give him a biting retort, but you're abruptly stopped by the look in his eye. Distinctly hungry and unrepentant in its desire, his gaze roams openly and shamelessly along the curves of your body.

You feel like you're being eaten alive.

Plenty of customers have looked at you in such a way when you wear this outfit, but none have had this effect on you—which is to say, making you clench immediately.

You try not to cry. You actually will cum on the spot at this rate, and you don't think you could be subtle about it. You're barely keeping it together right now, with how your pussy keeps fluttering and dripping. Coupled with the way that the alcohol is melting the edges of your self-control, you're shocked you haven't at least moaned yet.

In a last ditch effort to save your friendship, as well as your rental (house arrest) situation, you slap a hand over his mouth.

“Stop that.”

Suo laughs. He grabs your wrist, lifts your palm away. “Why?”

Why? Because if you keep talking like that, I'll bend over and start begging you to fuck me! you think. But even in your inebriated, horny state, it feels like a poor idea to admit this aloud. You end up saying, “Hostesses aren't paid to flirt like this. Strictly speaking, we’re paid to be conversational partners.” You frown at him. “You're breaking a lot of club rules right now.”

This reprimand backfires on you, as you are suddenly filled with intrusive thoughts of breaking every single rule in this establishment with Suo, including the ones preventing you from climbing on top of him and riding him raw. You squirm at the thought, wishing you could close your legs rather than making a mess of your underwear (now a lost cause), but Suo’s grip stays firm on your waist.

He, himself, is unbothered by your scolding. “Okay,” he says simply. “Then I won't speak to you as a hostess. I want to speak to you, seriously, as a friend.”

His smile is so disarming, it makes you nervous. But he sounds earnest enough for you to be curious, and anyway, you're desperate for something to distract you from your wet cunt.

“Alright,” you acquiesce, “What do you have to say, as a friend?”

“I just have one question.”

“Sure. Shoot.”

His hand comes to rest in your thigh again. He leans in, breath so hot against your ear that your heart jumps.

“I can accept that you wanted to see customers just to satisfy your urges. But tell me why you didn't come to me first.”

You freeze up. Look at him, wide-eyed.

“Wh-what?”

Suo just smiles. Looks so fucking innocent you wonder if you misheard, but his voice is sharp when he replies: “Let me put it another way. Why have we never slept together?”

For some reason, you’ve never thought that he'd ask you this question point blank, even though you've asked it to yourself many times. It takes you several moments to piece together a response, during which Suo’s expression turns distinctly wicked. A sign that he smells blood.

“Why would you think we would have?” you ask carefully.

“Because we’ve both clearly thought about it. You especially.”

You try to keep a straight face. “No I haven't. I don't know what you're talking about.” You raise a brow. “How would you even know?”

“Because,” he says, hand inching up your thigh, “you’re so wet that I can feel it.”

You're mortified.

Shame floods your body, first because of the accusation, and then because you know it's true. You were tipsy enough not to think about this, but now—sobering up from sheer panic— you're acutely aware of how you've soaked through the fabric beneath you. Something that Suo had certainly known, and chose to encourage.

What a horrible man.

When you don't reply, he tilts his head. “Don't tell me you haven't noticed. Do you want me to show you?”

His hand is moving so slowly, you know he's giving you another out. You could easily get off his lap. You could even slap him and call him a sleazy drunk and grouse at him to go home. You could forgive him in the morning for coming onto you and say he'd obviously made an inebriated mistake, as opposed to a very calculated decision. Your friendship would stay mostly intact. His grip on you might tighten, but that would be fine. You would still get to stay with him.

And that's all you've ever wanted. Just to stay with him.

But you're so wet, so empty, so aching. You want to be touched. You want to be touched by Suo, and only by Suo. You want to be fucked by him, to be owned by him, to be ruined by him. You’ve wanted it so badly and so long that you can't even remember when it started—only that you want it to end.

So instead of moving away, you sit there and endure the humiliation of getting your cunt inspected by him.

Suo hums as he opens your legs. You suppress a whimper as a finger moves along your folds, at the noise it makes as it runs through your slick. “Look, you’re so wet,” he murmurs into your ear. He finds your clit—swollen, neglected, and you whimper as he starts to draw slow, lazy circles around it. “Poor thing.”

“It’s only because you had me grinding on you the whole night,” you say through gritted teeth. “It doesn't—ngh—doesn’t mean I’ve been wanting to fuck you.”

You sound pissed enough that you'd convince anyone else, but you know, even without seeing his face, that Suo can tell you're bullshitting.

“You’re not a good liar,” he remarks. A fine teacher even when humiliating people, Suo can't help but add, “If you have to tell a lie, at least come up with a believable one.”

“What makes it unbelievable?” you reply, words clipped off by a sharp inhale as he starts rubbing your pussy.

“Well,” he starts nonchalantly, as if he isn't toying with your cunt, “after you were targeted in that succession conflict, I put hidden cameras in the area, and also in our suite.”

Your eyes go wide. Even in your aroused state, the implications are making you panic. “You—you what?”

“It was for security purposes,” he dismisses casually, as if he's not admitting to a serious invasion of privacy. “Only near the front door and the common areas. I just wanted to catch intruders and any suspicious behaviour from my men. But imagine my surprise”—you feel his fingers start to press into your cunt—“when I instead caught you fucking yourself on the couch and moaning my name.”

You’re mortified. Humiliated. Mind racing with every instance you were horny and stupid enough to touch yourself in a common space. You think about yelling at him about the cameras, but then you feel two fingers sinking into you, and now you aren't thinking about much at all.

Your mind goes blank as you're stretched open by him. Your cunt is so wet, so empty, but the feeling still makes you whine. Your brow furrows, and you give him a pleading look. Slowly, please.

“Don't worry,” he says in a soothing tone, “I know you can handle this. I've seen you take much bigger. Though”—he shifts, pulls you so you're in between his legs, and now you can feel the length of him against you, hard and aching and huge, what the fuck—“maybe not big enough.”

You tighten around his fingers as he grinds against you. You want him inside you so badly, it hurts. Suo laughs when he feels your desperation, and he sounds so amused that you can't help but feel ashamed. But even more than shame, you feel aroused. You take the rest of his fingers easily, down to the knuckle.

“What the fuck, Suo,” you eventually manage through your panting, though not with much bite. “You weren't—ahh—meant to see any of that.”

“Sorry,” he says, sounding deeply unapologetic. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn't watch much, and I deleted all of it. I didn't need to see that to know you have feelings for me.”

You tense. “What feelings?” you ask, and Suo stops. He pulls his fingers out of you—you breathe sharply at the loss—and manhandles you until you're straddling his lap. Forces you to look at him, into his one eye. It's knife-sharp, brutal, but familiar. You don't struggle, nor do you feel uneasy.

But you do feel like prey.

“Do you remember,” he begins, voice light, “how our master always talked about how important it is to engage with each other’s feelings?”

Fuck.

“No,” you blurt out, and Suo laughs.

“Of course not,” he plays along. “You were always so terrible at it. But I've been doing a bad job too, lately. So”—he reaches beneath your dress, hooks your thong with his fingers—“I wanted to have an honest conversation with you.”

He smiles at you. Actually looks kind and even sounds earnest. What a fucking sociopath. You allow him to slide your underwear down your legs, kicking them off. Now your pussy is completely bare to him, and you can hear the way his breath stops as he touches it again. Three of his fingers push in this time, and you pant openly at the stretch, leaning against him as your body trembles from the stretch. He flexes his fingers experimentally, watching your reactions—your whimpers, your sighs, the way your eyelashes flutter when he brushes that one spot inside you.

“I’ve always had feelings for you,” he starts, using that nonchalant, delicate tone—the specific one that suggests danger, “and I know you’re too smart to have missed that. I’d be fine with it if you didn't return them, but you do.”

“I don't,” you protest, and then his fingers curl and press into your g-spot. You're cut off immediately, gasping at the sudden wave of heat in your belly.

A hand comes up to your chin. He forces you to look at him. “I said I wanted to have an honest conversation, remember.”

“I–I am being honest, I—” Your voice breaks as he starts pumping his fingers. It's slow, gentle, but precise. Tension builds in you at an alarming rate, your thighs getting as slick and messy as his hand. You bury your face into the crook of his shoulder, breathe in his cologne and gasp into his skin, and your mind goes hazy from the euphoria of his touch. Sure, you've hugged Suo before, been held by him before, and god knows you've been touched like this by a ton of other people before—but it feels different now. It feels different when it's Suo who's touching you, different when you’re this close to him while he's drawing all this pleasure out of you. When one hand feels so good inside you and the other one is holding you so intimately.

“Suo,” you whimper, overwhelmed by hot tension in your belly, “I-I’m close, I’m close, oh fuck—

He stops.

Before you can comprehend what's happening, he’s withdrawing his fingers, and all the heat in you is melting away. Your orgasm lost, you come down from your high—nerves frayed, emotions taut.

“Suo,” you say, “what the fuck?”

He gives you a smile. It almost looks nice. “I'm not letting you cum until you tell me the truth.”

You’re going to cry.

You're so wet, so empty, so desperate, and now you feel oddly afraid. You don't like the way he's staring you down. You don't like this line of questioning, this bullshit of engaging with other people's feelings. You’ve never liked it. But you need—need—him to fuck you. You need his fingers inside you and you need to cry into his neck while you finish.

You say, very quietly, “Please, Suo.”

“Please, what?”

It's funny. You've performed begging and crying and submission for countless clients, sometimes during annoyingly rough sessions. You've done it for years. But nothing has ever felt so humiliating as this moment, when you ask your best friend, in the smallest voice possible, “Please touch me.”

“No. Not until you start being honest with me.”

Suo's mouth curls at the devastated look you give him. You hardly even notice that he's adjusting you, having you straddle his thigh again—this time, facing him. You don't register it until your cunt is pressed into the wet spot you left earlier and he's saying, “You can move if you'd like. But I'm not touching you.”

“You’re fucking horrible,” you say with all your heart, but your pussy is throbbing and you're desperate for release. So you finally do what you were desperately trying to stop yourself from doing the whole night—you start grinding on him. Like a fucking animal in heat. It's embarrassing, especially because his leg feels so good against you. The friction on your pussy makes you pant, your eyes squeezing shut as your clit finally gets some pressure. It makes up for the way he’s looking at you, which is sly, handsome, and rage-inducing all at once.

“You really do need to be touched,” he remarks softly. “You said your customers satisfied you. Was that true? Did they properly fuck you?”

“N-no,” you gasp. Your mind feels so cottony now that you're getting some relief. You can barely think, and definitely not enough to lie. “It was—it was—fuck, I never came.”

He hums, satisfied. “There—see? Telling the truth isn't so hard. You can do it again.”

He sounds so condescending. You would ordinarily hate it, but for some reason, it's going straight to your pussy right now, making you drip so much you know you've ruined his pants. You’re getting close, too, just by rubbing yourself on his leg. It doesn't feel quite as good as when his fingers were in you, but it’s something. And it’s making it hard to focus on what he's saying.

“It’s fine if you can't be honest about your feelings,” Suo continues. “Let's assume you're telling the truth, and all you want to do is fuck me. Why haven't you?”

You try to answer him, but you can't. You're too focused on the roll of your hips against his leg. There's too much tension, too much heat. You melt against him again, breathing heavily into his shoulder as you tighten around nothing. His hands come to your waist, as if grounding you, and somehow this makes everything feel even better. You start panting, babbling, I'm close, I'm getting close, Suo, Suo—

His grip tightens, and he stops you in place. You cry in frustration—no tears, but the noise you make is broken.

“Answer my question,” he says. You feel a hand glide along your bare skin, stopping at your inner thigh. “Answer me and I'll touch you.”

“Okay,” you say, as desperate as you are distressed. “Okay, I'll do anything. Anything.”

“Good.” He sounds so pleased.

You put your arms around his neck, for no reason other than you want to. Lifting your hips, you part your legs for him, and you feel so relieved at just the touch of his hand that you sigh—even though all he's doing is running a finger along your slick folds.

You shudder as his fingers play with your sex. Lean your head on his shoulder as he starts to move. You’re so desperate that you start grinding against his hand, whining for him.

“Well, then,” he murmurs. “Tell me why you didn't come to me. This is all you wanted, isn't it?” He rolls your clit between two fingers, making you squirm. “Just to get off, right? I could have done that. You'd have enjoyed it more.”

“It”—your eyelids flutter shut—“it would have been too complicated. Y-you’re my boss, and I pay rent to y-you, and we’ve been friends for so long, I didn't want to make it weird—”

Suo delivers a sharp slap to your pussy.

The contact is so sudden that you yelp. It only stings a little, but it makes your clit ache. The noise it makes is so wet, so filthy, telling of your desperation. And to your shame—even though you have never once in your life enjoyed being handled roughly by your customers—your cunt starts leaking in response.

You whimper, about to burst from frustration. You need to be touched so bad. You need to be touched by him so bad, and you need to cum on his cock or else you'll lose your fucking mind.

“Suo,” you complain, or beg, and you don't even realise that you're tearing up until he swipes his thumb under your eye.

“Try again,” he says gently, but not kindly. “The truth this time, and then I'll make you cum. Why didn't you come to me first? These past few months, or any other time?”

You don't answer him. “Suo, please—” And he moves back so that you're no longer leaning against him. Your lip trembles at the loss of the warmth, which somehow feels worse than the loss of your orgasm. An actual tear rolls down your cheek, and he doesn't wipe this one away.

“Answer me,” he says firmly. Instead of replying, you try to reach for him—wanting to be pressed against his body again, wanting him to draw pleasure out of yours again—but he stills you with his hands.

You feel devastated.

Out of horny, emotional desperation, and an all-consuming need to be fucked, you admit, “I was just scared!”

This is the worst mistake you've ever made.

The minute the words dislodge from your throat, you feel yourself choke up. You don't know why. All you know is that you suddenly can't hold back your tears from your sexual frustration, which for some reason is starting to feel distinctly like a non-sexual kind of angst, which is also strangely painful for your chest.

Because now that you've said it out loud, you can't ignore it.

You want to hide. You want to crawl out of his lap and run out of the establishment. Surely, the mamasan will forgive you for leaving a shift with such a frightening and horrible man, who is currently trying to extort your feelings out of you. But Suo’s grip is solid and unforgiving on you, and all you can do is squirm.

“Scared of what?” Suo asks. His voice has gone soft. Actually soft—not in a way that suggests danger, but a way that suggests you're loved. It makes you tremble.

His arms circle you, and one rubs at your back. It makes you relax very slightly. Or at the very least, it makes you stop wanting to bolt.

“What were you scared of?” he prompts again.

A feeling of defeat washes over you. Suo will figure you out sooner or later. He always does. So you tell him, very quietly, “I was scared that—that you'd leave me.”

You realise that you just stuttered. You stuttered because you're crying. You're actually, genuinely crying. Not from sexual frustration, but because you're just frustrated in general. And miserable. You've been chronically miserable for most of your life, and that misery has had nowhere to go until now.

You press your face into Suo’s shoulder, and he lets you. You breathe deeply in an attempt to stop crying, his cologne washing over you. It's nice, but what feels most comforting is just the scent of him. You're used to it from the days before he'd ever thought about using a fragrance, let alone a fragrance that would bankrupt the average person. It's calming, even when overlayed with ambergris and vanilla. Familiar.

Your breathing evens out a little—but only a little.

“Why would I leave you?” His voice is so kind, patient. More tears bead on your lashes.

“Because you might not want me anymore.” You sound so fragile. Shit, you are fragile. You can't stop the splintering feeling in you, the same one that ate at you two months ago when you thought he was going to leave you. “You could get tired of me or resent me or get bored with me. You could—you could want to throw me away, for no reason. Or—” You breathe in sharply, clinging to him harder.

“Or?”

“Or you could die—you joined the yakuza, so you could die. Why did you do that?” An actual sob leaves you. His shirt is getting wet. You ruined so many of his silk changshan like this in the past, when your boyfriend cheated on you and when your parents kicked you out and when you slept with your fifth customer.

And when your master died.

“I'm still so fucking mad at you for it,” you bite out around your tears. “If you got fucking killed—oh my god, I can't even think about it. I can't—I couldn't take it if—if I kissed you, and we had sex, and then I didn't have you anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re the only thing I have.” You squeeze your eyes shut, a terrible realisation hitting you. “And…”

“And?”

“And,” you say, voice breaking, “I think because I love you?”

You know it as soon as you voice it. You do love him. Not just platonically, but in the way where you want to hold his hand and kiss him and marry him. In the way a miserable nineteen year old girl is so in love with her miserable best friend that she refuses to leave him despite how terrifying he’s becoming. You loved him in this way before you realised you wanted to have sex with him, and even after that, you loved him so much that it didn't matter that he wasn't having sex with you.

You love him so much it disgusts you.

You want to hide, but Suo forces you to look at him. He brushes away your tears, cups your face. The Pavlovian response takes over: your heart rate slows, and you calm down.

“There,” he says gently. “That wasn't so bad, was it?”

He’s wrong. You bet he knows he's wrong. That was objectively one of the worst experiences of your life. You feel wrung out, tenderised. You never thought you'd say any of that. You're not sure you knew most of that.

But in Suo’s arms, plied open with his words and his hands, you actually find yourself shaking your head. You lean into the touch of his palm.

“I love you,” he continues, his tone so authoritative and calm that it leaves no room for doubt, “probably to the point that it should scare you. Do you understand that?”

“Yes,” you say quietly.

“And we won't be separated. I won't allow anything to take you away from me. Do you understand that too?”

You make a noise, halfway between a relieved sigh and another sob. This declaration should not be a surprise from a man who’s effectively locked you up in his house. Still—your heart feels so light when you hear someone say, for the first time in your life, that they’ll stay with you no matter what. It's like Suo has just unearthed a weight that you didn't know you'd been carrying.

“I’ll try,” you reply, voice small.

“Good.” He strokes your cheek. “Do you want to keep going?”

It’s absurd. You just cried and confessed something terrifying. With anyone else, this would be an experience so horrifying that you'd leave right now and never come back. Your sexual desire should not just be gone, but permanently erased. At the very least, you shouldn't feel the slightest bit horny.

But somehow, being gutted by Suo hasn't left you feeling bad. It's left you feeling lighter. Kind of like you've been purged. You feel exhausted, but in a malleable way. Dazed and relieved to be in his lap. Your thighs are still embarrassingly sticky, heart still embarrassingly wobbly, and you just heard him say that he loves you.

Now you want to hear him say it while he's cumming inside you.

“Yeah,” you admit immediately, pathetically. You sniffle.

“You're sure?” Another stroke. “I want to hear you say it clearly. What do you want to do?”

Your dignity is gone. “I want you to fuck me.”

He smiles. A fond hum leaves him. “Good girl,” he murmurs, and you feel a flutter in your belly. “I'll take care of you now.”

He kisses you this time, before he touches you. On the neck, on your jaw. You bare your nape to him, shivering at the feeling of his lips on your jugular, at his nipping teeth on your skin. You realise he's leaving marks, and with each one, you shudder. It feels so intimate. You're on a rooftop bar, in a skanky hostessing dress, crying and strung out—but this is the closest thing you've ever gotten to one of your fantasies about him. Not the nasty ones that you think about when you're home by yourself, but the ones you think of when you're in bed with various salarymen. The ones where you get to lie with him in bed and press your lips to his.

“Suo,” you start.

“Hayato,” he corrects you. “You're my fiancée now, remember? We should be on a first name basis.”

Your stomach flips. “Hayato,” you try again, breathless. “Please.”

He takes a moment to reply, busy sucking another mark into your skin. “Please, what?”

You hesitate. Suo pulls back, looking at you. You whine, feeling shy all of a sudden. You flirt for a living and yet you feel embarrassed about your request. It's humiliating.

“Please, what?” he repeats. His mouth is curled in a smile, and you can't tell whether it's endeared or entertained. “Please let you cum? Please fuck you?”

“Please kiss me,” you say, in a small voice.

Suo pauses.

“What?”

“Please kiss me,” you beg. Close to tears again, for some reason you don't know. You think it surprises him as much as it does you.

It takes him a moment to recover, but when he does, he gives you a look that’s fucking ravenous.

His thumbs away the wetness from your eyes. “You're so cute sometimes. Did you know that?”

You flush. Plenty of customers have called you cute, but none have had you feeling so indignant nor shy.

“I’m not,” you reply, “and stop that.”

“But it's true. And I want you to know it.”

Suo presses his mouth to yours before you can respond. You're so eager for him that you part your lips immediately. Your instinct is to make your first kiss with him messy and desperate, but he’s in full control, and he’s taking his time. His tongue is careful and precise. Full of intention. His lips are slow, languid, and lazy, like he's savouring the taste of you. A hand plays with the strap of your dress. You feel him slide it off your shoulder—the other one quickly follows—but you’re so absorbed in his kiss, you hardly pay attention.

You're vaguely aware of the breeze against your bare chest. One of his hands moving up, feeling out your curves. He hums into your mouth when his fingers ghost over your nipples, and they harden under his touch.

“Suo,” you whine as he teases them, and he pinches one of them, watching as you squirm.

“Hayato,” he corrects you promptly, and you give him a worn, teary look.

“Hayato.”

“Yes?”

“I need more,” you say quietly.

He smiles, clearly enjoying your desperation. “Be patient,” he teases you. “I’m getting there.”

He kisses a line along your jaw, down your neck. Traces your collarbone with the path of his mouth, works his way down to your breasts. At the same time you feel the heat of his tongue on your nipple, his hand reaches between your legs. You're so wet already that he doesn't need to work you open again—just sinks his fingers inside you until you're sighing for him.

You discover that when he's not antagonising you, Suo is frighteningly efficient with pleasuring you. He learns quickly how you like your tits played with, and how to fuck you so well with his fingers until you're gushing around them and keening. He said he'd take care of you, but you think he's mostly forcing all this pleasure from your body for his own enjoyment. There's no other explanation for how he keeps bringing you to the edge and pulling you back, swallowing each of your whines and complaints with his mouth. The only time he isn't kissing you is when you're begging—and you don't miss the way his breathing deepens every time you do.

But no matter how much you beg, he isn’t letting you cum.

“Look at the mess you're making,” he murmurs as he plays with your cunt. You're sitting between his legs again, your back against his chest. You can feel the length of his cock against your ass, and you hear how his breath hitches every time you squirm against it. Except for that one tell, he sounds completely unaffected by what he's doing—forced you to open your legs wide for him, spread your glistening folds to tease you. The leather beneath your ass is wet, ruined by your need.

“Hayato,” you whine.

“Just a little longer,” he promises, “and then I'll let you cum.”

Your mind is so fogged with pleasure at this point that you can't focus on anything other than Suo’s touch. You’ve actually forgotten where you are—not a truly private space, but part of a club. The girls would normally only come up if you put in an order, but you haven't for a while now.

Long enough for someone to check on you without warning.

You tense as soon as you hear the door open. You recognize the server—she knows you well, by face, stage name, and real name. Your eyes go wide as she calls for you. You try to sit up, close your legs, but Suo grabs one of your thighs and forces it open.

“Suo, wait—”

You whimper, incapable of words when his fingers push into you again. He starts fucking you with them, and in earnest this time—curling his fingers until they're pushing into your g-spot, doing it over and over and over. Your eyes roll back and you stop struggling, and Suo takes the opportunity to touch you with his other hand too, playing with your clit. A strangled moan leaves you as the heat in your gut ratchets up. Pleasure swells in your belly; you feel like you're going to burst.

“Suo,” you cry, tears pricking your eyes, “wait, wait, my coworker—wait, I think—I think I'm gonna—”

“Go ahead,” he says into your ear, voice silky, and he pushes against your sweet spot in a way that gives you no choice but to obey him.

You cum so hard that you squirt all over the seat. Your whole body is wracked with intense pleasure—hips bucking violently, legs twitching, crying so loudly and shamelessly that your coworker naturally hears. She catches you spread wide open in Suo’s lap, his fingers deep in your messy, swollen cunt as you drench them.

Her tray clatters to the floor.

Fighting the mindless haze that your body is in, you glance at the other girl, whose hand is over her mouth. She looks appalled. She’s going to yell at you. But then you then watch, in real time, as her eyes travel to your customer’s face and she realises who he is. If she was red when she saw the two of you, she's now a pale white.

“Did you come to check on us?” Suo asks. He sounds amused. She flinches at his voice, and actually takes a step backward. “We’re fine for now. We’ll order something in a bit, and call you up here as usual.”

“O-okay,” she says, voice high and tense. “I—I’ll leave you two, then. Please—please enjoy yourself, sir. We'll be available in case you require any other services.” And she walks away briskly, almost in a run. She doesn't even bother to stop the expressly forbidden act that you're engaged in.

Once she’s gone, Suo allows you some dignity. He pulls his fingers out of you, lets you catch your breath.

“Oops,” he says. “It’s too bad they caught us. I suppose they won't want to keep you on as an employee, since you broke such an important rule.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed. Your emotional and sexual pliability quickly dissipates, replaced by disbelief.

“You—you did that on purpose,” you say between pants, too fucked out to be truly angry, but still appalled.

Suo raises a brow, gives you an innocent look. “Did I? I was just making you cum, like you've been begging all night. It was just unfortunate timing.” He then smiles, which makes him look incredibly kind despite the apparent sadism of his person. “But it's fine. They're going to fire you for this, but you know my club will always take you back.”

You close your eyes and groan. “You’re horrible.”

“I am, aren't I?” Suo puts his arms around you, kisses you on the shoulder, his voice getting low. “But this is a better arrangement, don't you think? You won't need to see customers this way. Every time you need relief, you can come upstairs and I'll give you my cock instead.” He grinds against you, letting you feel how hard he is, and you whimper. He laughs, probably entertained at how desperate you sound. “Or maybe I'll just make you take it whenever I feel like it. I think at the end of every shift makes sense, doesn't it? Since that's how often you've been touching yourself on the couch.”

“S-suo.”

“It’s Hayato now, remember. What is it, dear?”

He sounds so smug, mocking you. You should be furious. But in your fucked out state, all you can focus on is the idea of being forced to take Suo's cock every night. Despite already being ruined, your pussy starts throbbing again. You squirm and press your thighs together, trying to get it to stop—you’re so fucking tired—and you bleakly realise that you can't control your body’s reactions around him. You're getting wet again. It makes you want to cry.

“Hayato,” you whimper, on the verge of tears.

“Ah, you addressed me properly. Good.” He’s so satisfied. “What is it?”

“I…”

“You?”

“I”—your voice is so small and embarrassed, you can hardly believe it—“I want you to fuck me.”

He feigns shock, as if he wasn't actively provoking this. “Really? But you just came.” A hand prods between your legs. You obediently spread them for him, and he checks your pussy with two of his fingers. You moan a little at the intrusion, but there's no resistance at all.

Your cunt, still dripping, tightens around him, and he laughs softly.

“You really do need a cock in you. Who knew you had such a needy pussy.” He curls his fingers. Probably feeling the way it makes you gush, delighting in the gasp it draws out of you. “No wonder you have to use that toy every day.”

You're about to die of embarrassment. “Hayato. Please just fuck me.”

Suo turns you so that you can look at him. He’s wearing a kind, benevolent face when he says, “No.”

“...what?”

“I'm not going to give you my cock.” He hums, contemplative. “Not for a while, I think.”

“B-but,” you say, genuinely upset, “but you were just talking about doing that at work.”

“Sure—after we get married. It's only proper, don’t you think?”

“What?” Your eyes are wide in disbelief. “You—you just made me cum with your fingers. In a public space.”

“Yes. But that's different from letting you have my cock. It wouldn't be gentlemanly of me to do that before we’re wedded.” He can't keep the amusement out of his voice as he bullies you. “I'm sure you can wait until the summer, right? Since that's the season you chose for us. August, I think you told Nirei.”

“Hayato—”

“Actually,” he muses, easily sliding a third finger into you, making your voice clip off in a whimper, “I think you shouldn’t be allowed to have anything in you until then. Except for my fingers and tongue, of course. But no toys, and no other men either. That definitely wouldn't be proper.”

“I'm going to,” you say spitefully—and tearfully. “If you don't fuck me right now, I will sleep with other people.”

“I don't think you want to find out the consequences if you do.”

“How would you even—ngh—know?”

“Good question.” He starts pumping his fingers, and to your horror, your cunt needily swallows them with each motion, your body as desperate as he's been saying. “I guess I'll need to check your pussy every night. See if it's been stretched out by someone else’s cock. Maybe upstairs in the lounge at the end of each night, so I'll know that you haven't fucked a customer during a shift. Clearly, it's not impossible that you would.”

You try not to sob. Not only are his words utterly humiliating, they're making you wetter. After fucking so many people in so many ways, you didn't know it was possible for you to feel this much shame during sex—but then again, shaming people is one of Suo’s specialties.

You give him the teariest look possible, because by now you've figured out that he likes seeing you cry. Sadistic motherfucker. You're happy to use it to your advantage though.

He gets that hungry look in his eye again. “Please, Hayato,” you beg, voice trembling with need, “I want more. I thought I was your beautiful wife already.” You grind your ass against his cock, and he inhales sharply. “Don't you wanna cum in your wife’s pussy?”

Suo stops, deeply affected—just as you guessed he'd be. After making you his fake wife in both his criminal life and his civilian one, it's painfully obvious that the man is obsessed with marrying you. You'd make fun of him if you weren't so horny. Or humbled.

He only allows himself speechlessness for a second. He hums soon after, delicately wiping the tears out of your eyes. “You've been good enough that I guess I can reward you. I won't fuck you, but”—he shifts away, and you can hear his pants unzipping—“I’m sure you'll enjoy yourself anyway.”

Suo wasn't lying earlier. His cock is bigger than any toy you've ever used. It's pretty, too. Curved and long and flushed at the head. Glistening with prespend, which has pearled up at the tip. You think you might be salivating. For a minute, you contemplate asking if you can feel it in your throat, but then Suo’s lying down and moving you on top of him. When his cock nudges at your folds, you can’t help your excitement. You squirm, trying to sink onto his length.

His grip tightens on your waist, stopping you.

You’re about to whine at him about this, but he doesn't give you the chance. “If you try to ride me,” he says, in a voice so cold that you know he's not joking, “I'm not touching you until we’re married, and I'm not letting you touch yourself either.”

“...”

With anyone else you'd call bullshit, but you know that Suo is both crazy and petty enough to actually achieve this.

“Okay.” You sound and feel mollified. “I'll behave.”

He smiles. “Good,” he says cheerfully. “Just stay like that, then. I’ll take care of you.”

You listen to him, mostly because you're incredibly excited about getting pussy inspections and you'll be devastated if it doesn't happen. And you don't expect it to be a big deal, anyway. While your sex drive has been a constant source of grief for you throughout your life, you don't really have problems controlling any specific impulses in bed when you truly need to. You’re used to giving your customers whatever they want and, if you're lucky, getting off from it. You figure this will be the same.

You find out very quickly that it isn't.

You need to stay still. You can’t sink down on him. Two easy orders that are extraordinarily difficult when Suo is the one beneath you. You have to actively stop your hips from moving when you feel the silky head of his cock press into your folds, which are still dripping with your slick. Suo’s breath hitches when he runs the tip along your opening, drawing wet noises every time his cock head catches on your needy hole, smearing his precum all over it. All you want is to push back on him and let your pussy swallow his cock. You’re aching for it, and you know he is too. If you sank down on him now, he'd lose control and fuck you raw until he was cumming inside you. And then he'd probably keep going after that, not letting you move until you were stuffed full and dripping with his spend. Both of you know it.

But you don't do that. You're good for him. You sigh, just trying to enjoy the feeling of his length rubbing against you. How he's twitching and throbbing against you, how he wants as equally much to be inside you—but pulls back every time. Your mind goes a little fuzzy with the drawn out, low hum of pleasure, and you close your eyes.

Then he starts pushing into you.

“H-Hayato?” You whimper at the intrusion, at being made to take something so thick without warning. “I thought you weren't gonna—”

“I'm not,” he says. His breathing is heavier, his words strained, but his voice is still commanding when he says, “Don’t move.”

Suo doesn't give you the whole thing, just the tip. It is much harder to control yourself like this—when you can feel yourself getting stretched by the head of his cock, already so fat and heavy, but you don't get filled up by it. It makes you aware of how empty you are, and how wet you're getting. You bury your face into his neck and make a noise that's both tearful and pathetic.

It's not acting when you whine, in a watery, miserable way, “Please, Hayato. I need your cum in me.”

It's probably the crying that gets him. He inhales sharply, thrusting maybe a little deeper than intended. You groan at the extra inch of cock, eyes rolling back, and can't help the way your pussy tightens and drips, trying to suck him in.

“Fuck,” he says, and then he pulls out.

He lays you flat on your back. Before you can get so much as a word out, he's between your legs and pressing his cock against your entrance. For possibly the happiest moment of your life, you think Suo is going to fuck you—but instead he starts pushing the slick head of his cock right against your neglected clit.

You aren't going to complain.

You whimper as he starts rubbing against your sex, leaving his prespend all over your swollen bud. It makes you squirm, grinding yourself against it, and you press your legs together to get some more pressure for the both of you. Soon his cock is sliding between your thighs, getting them all sticky with his prespend. You can feel the length of him hot and slick against your folds, heavy and throbbing.

You've never cum like this before. It was never enough stimulation when your customers made you do this, which nearly all of them have. But the pressure on your clit and on your folds is shockingly intense as the two of you move, enough to make you whimper as a familiar tension builds. It's not as overwhelming as when his fingers were inside you, but it's enough for you to start panting at the tension in your belly. You can hear Suo’s breath picking up as you start to whine, and he watches you, almost predatorial, as another orgasm crashes over you. You moan his name as you cum, squeezing a few more tears out of your eyes.

He stares at your flustered, wet face as he pushes the head of his cock against your entrance again, fisting himself as it flutters and drips in the aftershock of your orgasm. Suo’s been hard for so long, for the whole time he's teased and bullied you—you aren't surprised at how close he already is. Especially not when you start talking about how much you need his cum in you, how empty your pussy feels without it, how badly you want your husband to fill you up. All with your mascara smeared and your lip trembling, a sight that makes him throb.

Suo groans as he finally cums. You can feel his cock twitching, warmth spurting out onto your folds, and then into your pussy as he thrusts shallowly into you. You pull him down needily as he fills you, and he indulges you with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

When he pulls out, you can feel his cum drip out of you, all the way down to the couch. You make a happy noise at the mess he's made of your hole, giving him a lovestruck, dreamy expression.

“You should do that every night after you're done checking my pussy,” you sigh.

Suo’s mouth curls, and breathes out a kind of laugh. He holds your face, and one of his tassels brush against the shell of your ear as he presses his forehead to yours. “I’ll do it if you're good for me.”

“I’ll be on my best behaviour until our wedding night,” you promise, voice affectionate.

Suo gives you a fond look. His expression is so sentimental. You think he’s going to say something sweet.

“Alright,” he replies. “Then be good for me and keep the rest of that inside you, okay? Let’s not make a mess of these floors. I don't want to get blacklisted from this club.”

You open and close your mouth, completely speechless.

“You're fucking horrible,” you say with all your heart, and he laughs and kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you. He doesn't stop until you're placated and horny again.

Suo takes his sweet time pushing his cum into you as deeply as possible, saying that it's to make sure you don't lose any of it, but really so he can draw another orgasm out of you. Knowing that the mamasan might take pity on you and think that you were coerced into degrading sexual acts by a terrifying yakuza client, he makes sure to order a drink beforehand, calling up a server. (I don't want to be a bad patron, he hums as he looks at the tablet, and I said I'd get you to the number 1 ranking, right?) It subsequently looks, sounds, and is completely consensual when you're found pulling at Suo’s hair, keening as he fingers his cum into you while sucking on your clit.

This leaves you with no hope of continued employment on all of Keisei Street.

To add insult to injury, you do make a mess of the floors, despite Suo’s conscientious efforts to avoid this—though it's not as bad as the one you left on the couch. You also can't find your thong anywhere, which you guess is something else that the mamasan won’t appreciate when she finds it. Still, for the rest of the night, everyone shows Suo nothing but the utmost respect and highest quality customer service. They even ask how he found your company and if he has any feedback for you. He praises your conversational skills, karaoke abilities, and how capable you were in catering to his many needs. He also lets them know that you'll be resigning.

Hanzo and Shuuhei are waiting to pick you up, bringing the Rolls Royce with the privacy suite. This time, Suo doesn't use it to interrogate you; he instead uses it to kiss you and tease you and discuss wedding plans. If it'll be indoors or outdoors. If you'll have a big reception or a small one. If it'll be a traditional wedding, or if you’ll want a Chinese one like the one your master would have maybe liked to see. You settle on having a Shinto ceremony and a Chinese-style reception. Having been raised Chinese, whenever Suo imagined marrying during his teenage years, you were always in a red qipao. His master even once told him that if he managed to win your heart, he'd organise a tea ceremony and act in the role of Suo’s father.

After disclosing these facts (the first of which makes your heart weak, and the second of which leaves it aching), he asks about any long-standing things you've always wanted to do with him as a couple. If you had any silly or indulgent daydreams about your future with him, and what they were like.

“I don't know,” you admit. “I guess after you applied to teacher’s college, I liked the idea of marrying you, and doing all the domestic things you talked about. Though you were just joking at the time.”

You don't really expect him to remember much about this particular line of teasing. Sure, the man is currently obsessed with marrying you, and maybe he daydreamed about it a little bit when he was younger—but he mostly treated the idea as a funny joke when he was a teenager. All of the teasing has probably blurred together for him over the years. Certainly, it has for you.

But you've never been able to forget this particular memory. It’s one of those small, inconsequential moments that you find yourself incapable of letting go to this day. You loved hearing him talk about getting married, even though it hurt immensely that it was probably just teasing. You loved it because you wanted it. You wanted Suo to teach people because you knew he was good at it and it would make him genuinely happy. You wanted to stop working in the red light district and make a nice and safe home for Suo, just as he'd made a nice and safe home for you. And you wanted to marry him and kiss him and have sex with him and only him for the rest of your life.

You wanted it so badly, it still makes you heart ache to think about it.

He was definitely just teasing you, though. Suo was a sane person at the time, and sane people do not actually plan a marriage and life with someone before dating them or even fucking them. Most importantly, a sane person wouldn't hold onto such a silly joke for so long. Oh, you expect him to say, laughing. You're right, I had nearly forgotten.

But all he does is give you a smile. It's one of his strange, enigmatic ones.

“No, I was quite serious about it,” Suo says, looking right at you.

You stare at him.

“Really?”

“Really.”

He's being so straightforward, so earnest. Your typical reaction would be to feel flustered, sentimental—but something about his expression and tone bothers you. But before you can suss out what it is, he continues, and the moment passes.

“Was there anything else you ever wanted to do?” he asks smoothly.

You're startled, off-guard. “Oh, um… not really. I never let myself think too much about it.”

“Come on,” he prods. “There must be something.”

“No, I really didn't think of any ideas on my own. Although…”

Your face gets hot as you trail off. Suo senses weakness, and goes in for the kill.

“Although?”

“It's too embarrassing,” you admit, looking away, and Suo looks a little too interested as he pesters you for an answer.

“Come on, it's fine.” His mouth curls in a way that tells you it's not fine. “I promise I won't judge you. I just want to know what I can do to make you happy as your husband.”

You give him an uncertain look, and say your only concrete fantasy about him so quickly and quietly that he misses it.

“Pardon?” he asks.

“...romantic, vanilla sex.”

Suo blinks. “What?”

Your face burns with humiliation.

“I used to think about having romantic, vanilla sex with you. When I was a teenager. A lot.” Said as if you weren't just thinking about it two months ago in a love hotel, and still don't want it now. You wouldn't even bring it up if you didn't think it was necessary. But unfortunately, you're professionally skilled at perceiving people’s sexual interests, and you've perceived that Suo is sexually a freak. He was definitely going easy on you tonight, and is probably actively planning to get worse. You'll never have normal sex with him unless you explicitly state a desire for it.

Suo gives you a surprised look. “That's… a very mundane fantasy.”

“It wouldn't have been mundane to me,” you reply, somewhat defensively. “I used to think about it when I slept with my customers, who weren't very romantic. Or vanilla. So I didn’t really have a good reference point or anything for that kind of sex, but sometimes I still thought about doing it with you after they had left.”

You look away after saying this, wondering why you disclosed all of that. It certainly wasn't necessary for your dream of someday taking Suo’s cock without being psychosexually tortured first. Now you feel like you need to hide. You even think about excuses for stopping the car, and ponder again how difficult it would be to live without proof of identity, if you chose to run away.

But Suo doesn't let you run. He pulls you close to him, wrapping you up in his warmth.

“It's okay,” he says gently, in a voice that reminds you of how he was in his old Furin days. “You'll be okay. I'll make sure of it.” It confuses you deeply, and you turn to ask him what the fuck he's going on about.

You don't even realise you're crying until he starts kissing away your tears.

You can’t understand why you’re weeping. Maybe something strange and hormonal happened while you were having sex, like Suo made you orgasm too hard and all the oxytocin is making you depressed now. Though you think that hormone is supposed to make you happy. You're not sure. You never finished school, so you wouldn't know.

Whatever the reason, you hastily wipe away your tears. A hand rubs at your back, and you let yourself press your face into his shoulder.

“Sorry,” you say quickly.

“Don't apologise. You don't have anything to be sorry for.”

You hesitate as you breathe against the silk threads of his shirt, thinking about how many of his shirts you've ruined with your tears. At least three changshan and one Versace summer piece, by your count. It’s not like he hurts over the money these days, but guilt tugs at your heart.

“I don't know about that,” you mumble into his shoulder. And it takes a while to work yourself up to saying it, but eventually you whisper, with full honesty, “I'm sorry for always worrying you.”

“I know,” Suo says. He sounds sincere when he says, “I’m sorry too.”

“I’ll try to be better from now on.”

“You will be. And even if you aren’t, that's fine.”

For some reason, that makes your heart squeeze.

You melt against Suo after that, listening to the steady roll of tires and passing traffic outside. There's a gentle pitter patter of rain against the car roof, tinny and rhythmic, that gradually crescendos into a proper storm. The windshield wipers squeak against the glass. All of the noise is lulling you into a kind of peace, or maybe you're just feeling that way because Suo is holding you.

Fatigue wears your consciousness, and you close your eyes. The hustle and bustle of the red light district grows distant, faint—partly from slipping in and out of your dreams, and partly from the quieting world outside. It's now completely silent other than the heavy rainfall. You think they must be taking the road through Makochi. Suo asks for it whenever he wants you to sleep well.

He probably thinks you're asleep when he says, “I’m sorry for being how I am now.”

You almost stop breathing. Almost.

“You didn't fall in love with me when I was like this, so you must not like it very much,” he continues. “I know that Master wouldn't like me much either, if he were alive. He always said that you should support your loved ones until they can stand on their own two feet. But lately, I feel like all I've been doing is breaking yours.”

He sighs. The sky groans with distant thunder.

“Sakura knows who I really am, you know,” he says quietly. “I think he's worried about what'll happen to you if we get married. Though he’s been worried about you for a while.” Suo almost sounds endeared when he adds, “Did you know he only texts me now to ask if you're okay? He really does love you.”

He’s more sombre when he continues, “But Nirei is just afraid of me. That’s why he’s never around. He’s going to call you in a week and tell you not to go through with the wedding. He’ll probably tell you to leave me too. It’s good advice.”

It's hard to keep your breathing slow, with how badly your heart hurts.

“I’ve tried to go back to how I was, to the kind of person that Master was trying to raise,” Suo confesses. “But I don't think I can get better.”

But even if you can't, you want to tell him, that’s fine. You wish you could hold him how he's always held you.

“It doesn't usually upset me nowadays,” he admits after some time, “how I am now. But to be honest, talking about our school days did make me feel bitter, because I can't give you the things I know you wanted.”

He kisses the top of your head. Gently, so as not to wake you from your dream.

“I'm sorry I never became a teacher. I'm sorry I joined the yakuza. I'm sorry I can't give you a normal life. And I'm sorry I can’t have an honest conversation with you.”

Silence. You feel his chest stop briefly, his breathing deepen.

“Maybe someday, I'll get better enough to say these things to you while you're awake. Maybe someday, I'll even get better enough to let you leave. It would be best for you.”

His voice gets even softer. Tender.

“But for now, I don't know how to let you go.”

You feel a hand shifting away, the soft noise of leather against skin. Then both arms around you again, even warmer, even tighter. He’s leaning his head against yours. You think Suo is falling asleep.

Allowing yourself a single, quick glance at the car, you peer at your reflections in the rearview mirror. You see sheets of rain sliding against the back window, his dark lashes pressed to his skin, and all the scar tissue he likes to keep hidden away.

And you can see, very clearly, tears beneath his missing eye.

END 'TOKYO VICE'

hi everyone thanks for reading this chapter!!!! i hope it didn't disappoint after all the shitposting i did about it this week lol

can i just say. this was straight up the weirdest sex scene I've ever written HASLKFJSDF and the mood whiplash throughout this was probably the craziest i've ever written within a single piece. unfortunately, this reader copes with her trauma via humour and sex and it really shows rip. i hope it wasn't too offputting!

thank you to everyone who left a comment on part 1!! please do let me know if you enjoyed part 2 as well. <333

tagging @kweenkatsuki-fics and @stuckindreamland06!

[pariahsparadise]

ye of little faith | e. p.

nav. | m.list

summary: eustace doesn't believe that edmund has a girlfriend.

wc: 800

pairings: edmund pevensie x fem!reader

warnings: VERY unedited. also it's 1am and i just wrote this in a burst of inspiration, so please don't expect it to be good.

a/n: i don't really know if this will make sense to anyone lol, i think i wrote it in a confusing way, but hopefully it's okay. it's mostly eustace's pov, i wanted to try something new. also, this exact scenario has been in my head for months now.

“There’s no way he has a girlfriend,” Eustace tells Lucy, barging into the room. She immediately knows who he’s talking about, able to hear Edmund on the phone downstairs, voice softer than it usually is, taking the tone he automatically opts for when he speaks to Y/N.

“Why?” Lucy asks, half-heartedly entertaining her annoying cousin while she thumbs through the pages of her book. Unfortunately for her, Eustace Scrubb brightens at the attention, straightening up and launching into a rather well-thought out spiel.

“First of all, it’s Edmund we’re talking about. He’s awkward, way too hostile and bad-tempered. Not to mention, he’s barely of average height, and his hair? Absolutely ridiculous.”

“Y/N likes it,” Lucy says mildly, earning a scoff from Eustace.

“Y/N.” he says with disbelieving scorn, “As if she actually exists. You expect me to believe that a woman as beautiful and intelligent as you lot claim she is would actually be interested in Edmund? And so interested that she calls and writes to him multiple times a week? Yeah, right. I bet that Ed’s hired an escort to help him forget about how lonely he actually is. Or he’s paying some poor girl to play the part of a caring partner.” Eustace has had many such theories, the more creative ones dealing with blackmail and holding family members hostage, but so far, monetary imbursements seem to be the most likely.

“Sure, Eustace,” Lucy mumbles, having checked out of the conversation a while ago. He shakes his head at her disinterest, convinced that he is right, and leaves the room, muttering to himself disbelievingly.

A few days later, a painting gushes out water and swallows them whole, so poor Eustace, although having taunted his cousins with his skepticisms about the magical land of Narnia and called them fools for believing in the same, is forced to confront that he was wrong. 

Eustace is soaking wet and miserable, still slightly panic infused. He can’t believe his eyes, convinced that he hallucinated the last fifteen minutes. Sitting on the ship, the Dawn Treader, he watches as his cousins are recognised as King and Queen. He’s related to royalty. 

With a humorous snort, he realises that this is more believable than Edmund Pevensie having a girlfriend.

Hell, even the talking rat next to him is more believable.

He goes to voice the same, but is distracted by a joyous whoop descending from the sky, followed by a splash in the ocean. Eustace is too busy trying to catch a glimpse of the figure underwater to notice the hopeful glances Edmund and Lucy exchange, the faint tremour in Edmund’s hands as he snatches a telescope from a passing crew member, getting a clearer view.

“It is her!” Ed cries, only barely held back from jumping overboard by Caspian, who laughs fondly at the Just King. Eustace tries to hear what the Prince tells Edmund, but all noise turns to mush the second he sees the young woman surface, a brilliant smile on her face.

At first glance, he thinks it’s a siren. He’s heard stories about their enchanting beauty and ethereal forms, and Eustace does genuinely believe that this woman is too gorgeous to be human like he is. As she swims closer, though, and the ship's crew help pull her onto the ship, Eustace notices the lack of a tail. And though her hair is soaked and strewn across her face, and her clothes suction themselves to her skin, none of it takes away from her radiance.

It also doesn’t distract him from the fact that she’s walking right towards him. 

Eustace’s mouth goes bone dry, and he gulps nervously, afraid she’ll talk to him and afraid she won’t, when suddenly, Edmund swoops past him and towards the woman. He snatches her up in a passionate embrace, hands securing her to him as he twirls her around in sheer delight.

When they kiss, chaste but heady, Eustace decides that he has never actually known anything about anything.

He’s scouring the sky for flying pigs when he hears Edmund’s self-satisfied voice behind him, “And this, my very real girlfriend, Y/N, would be my cousin, Eustace Scrubb.”

“How do you do?” Eustace says weakly, extending a hand, trying his hardest not to faint when you take it.

“Pretty well. If only Edmund would- what was it again?- stop holding my family hostage, I think I’d be great,” you rib amiably, throwing back one of Eustace’s earliest theories back into his now scarlet face.

“No, darling, you’ve got it wrong, I’ve currently got your dogs kidnapped and ready to be shipped to the pound, remember?” Edmund joins in on the fun, his smile widening as he earns a couple of chuckles from you, and a darker flush from Eustace’s cheeks. 

Eustace Scrubb, though unwilling, is forced to admit, after watching the two of you interact, gravitating towards each other naturally, at ease with the love that surrounds you, his cousin’s eyes brighter than he’s ever seen them, that it is very believable for Edmund Pevensie to be dating Y/N L/N after all. 

[lalachat]

"And there you were..."

Author's note: Good lord did i have a lot to say in this chapter. I hope my writing is still okay and is cohesive enough... I feel like i am missing small points i made in other chapters, but as Hannah Montana once said, nobody's perfect! I'm doing my best with what has been going on in my life. I recently had to drop one of my college classes because it was getting to the point of me not being able to pass the class. Life tip: don't be a full time college student with 2 part time jobs(technically 3 if my summer job contacts me to come into work on a random weekday) or it'll catch up to you... shit's stressful maine😭 Anyways, like always enjoy the chapter!!! She's a biggen💅🏻

Summary: After being slut shamed for something you and Lucien did in the past, you decide to run straight to his house to let him know of his mate's behavior. Little did you both know that it only would make things worse, but hey, screw it right?! Or so you both thought...

This is for all my Lucien girlies❤️

Warnings: profanity, steamy make-out sesh (you're welcome<3), cock-blocked lol, slight violence

Word Count: ≈ 4,556

Chapter 6: "Hold your tits!"

And there you were in his house again but this time looking like you were going to scorch Prythian. You didn’t even have the energy to respond to his witty remarks. “Something really bad must have happened,” he thought. As he looked over you for any signs of injury, he couldn’t help but think about Elain.

Elain had lost control of her emotions and sent them full blaring at him, and yet you’re in his living room looking just as pissed off during the time of Elain’s relay. Then the realization hit him that something must have happened between you two. Would his bond with Elain cause him to take her side or would his close relationship with you rule over all? He was going to have to tread very lightly in the conversation that was about to come to light.  

“You want to know who pissed in my wine? Your mate Lucien, that’s who! And mine, but mainly your mate!” You say with a bitter tone as you cross your arms and legs to lean against the wall. 

“I see, guess I have been too much of a ladies' man if I have both of you this hot headed over me.” He smirked at you still trying to break your anger with humor. It didn’t work, it went right over your head. Lucien frowned.  

“How can she stand there and make all these accusations about me being a slut for fucking you without hearing the explanation of it being before y’alls bond?! SHE IS RIDICULOUS!” you exclaim. 

“She called you what? Are we talking about the same Elain right now?” Lucien stood there in shock. 

“She called me a slut Lucien! Said that me having sex with you is the reason I have no mate, not realizing that she is the reason I don’t have one! She keeps him from me! Hell, I tried so hard to open the bond with Az in our argument, but I am still met with nothing but a big fat wall of nothing!” You slumped down.

“Let me set one thing straight y/n! Whatever she tried to pin against you is not true!” he grabs both of your hands reassuringly. “Azriel will hopefully come around one day, I am sorry it hasn’t happened yet...” he kisses the tops of your hands. However, little does he know that you are slowly losing faith in your bond ever being complete.

Lucien then looks up at you confused. “Wait how did she even find out about our previous sexual relationship?” Lucien asked. 

“I let it slip to Mor at Rita’s and then Mor let it slip to the girls during girls' night, and then everyone asked about the rumor...” you admitted. 

“Huh, I see.” He started rubbing his temples trying to ease his distress. His mate knows about you two, she just doesn’t know it was before they even met. Is this knowledge going to change his chances with Elain? A moment of silence passes between you, before Lucien’s face lights up.  

“And what did you say about the rumor?” he smirked at you mischievously. He knew the rumor, he just wanted to hear you say it. 

“Lucien why does what I said matter?” 

“Because y/n, I want to know if you think I fuck with the fire in my veins?” His hands slowly trace up the sides of your arms. “Did I fuck you good enough for you to confirm that rumor?” He left an open-mouth kiss on your neck. “Or do I need to remind you?” He places another kiss onto your neck only firmer. 

“Lu-” you sighed at the feeling of his lips on your neck, “Lucien what are you doing? You shouldn't be doing this right now....” He wasn’t listening to you as he sucked on the sweet part of your neck as you exposed more of your neck to him.  

“Y/n you are telling me two different things right now. Your mouth says to stop but your body wants me to keep going, so which one is it doll?” He looked at you with hooded eyes, hands resting on your covered thighs after tracing your arms. 

“Why does that information matter right now Lucien? You need to stop this.” You look at him with desire, completely contradicting your statement.   

“Because y/n, they're upset at our previous relations a long time ago. I say fuck it and truly give them something to be upset about now.” 

You both looked at each other. Tension was slowly building up between you two with every second of silence. Tension that has been building since the moment you two saw each other at Rita’s. Tension that has built up from all these years without each other. Tensions that were begging to be cut, begging to be relieved. Both of you were going through all the consequences that this could put you both in, but consequences be damned, this was worth it.  

Neither of you had bothered hiding your growing scents of arousal. Your face was mere inches away from his. You could feel his hot breath against your face, and he stared down at you with desire, hands still resting on your thighs. You looked up at him and thought he was worth the risk. Whatever karma this would cause, bring it on, because his hands against your thighs was clouding all rationality in your head. 

“Ah fuck it!” you say. 

In an instant your lips were on Lucien’s in a searing hot needy kiss. His hands gripping at your thighs as your mouths fought for dominance. Your hands finding a home in Lucien’s hair and started pulling slightly, earning you a low groan. Your thighs clenched together which Lucien felt. He chuckled and decided to focus his heat on his hands, heating them up against your thighs. Your mouth broke away from his from the desirable feeling, “shit-” 

“You like my hot hands all over you, hm?”  

“Gods yes!” as you place your hands on top of his and teasingly guide them up your hips, to your waist, and stopping them just under your chest. His hands growing hotter from his desire on your sudden placement as both of your eyes locked and darkened.

“Such a fucking slut for my heat,” he said as his hands grew a mind of their own and started exploring every inch your breasts. His eyes followed every movement they made. You decided to remove your fingers from his hair and delicately trace them down his clothed back making him tremble slightly. This made you smirk. He is just as much of a slut for your touch as you were for his.  

His lips were back on yours with pure dominance, making your desire grow even more as his hands never left your chest. You moaned into his mouth as you decided to be bold and reach under his shirt to scratch his bare back. His muscles tensed at every touch knowing they would leave marks. His musk grew at the thought.

Your mouths are moving more in sync than you have ever felt before. It was like both of you knew what each other was going to do next, but what you both did not know was the sudden loud knock on his front door. You both groaned in annoyance.  

“Are you fucking kidding me?! This better be good!” Lucien said in frustration as he removed his swollen lips from yours. He looked at you for a second, his gaze softened as he placed a sweet kiss back on your lips saying, “this isn’t over.”  

He smirked and turned towards his door fixing his hair, clothes, and evident boner on the way. You giggled as you hid from the door’s gaze fixing your own appearance. The knock was heard again but this time more boisterous as if whoever was behind it was losing patience.  

“Good lord, get a hold of your tits! I am coming!” As he opened the door you heard Lucien gasp. “Shadowsinger, to what do I owe the pleasure?” He bowed jokingly. 

“Where is she?” Azriel asked in annoyance. 

“Where is who exactly?” Lucien asked dumbfounded as he rose from his bow.  

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me Lucien, you know who I am talking about. Now... Where. Is. She?!” Lucien stiffened; he was asking for you. He was not about to give you away to him after you and Elain’s argument, because he knew Azriel would take you back to the Townhouse. You and Elain needed time to cool off, he was not about to let you get called anymore names tonight.  

“She’s not here.” Lucien said protectively as he slightly closed the door stopping his gaze from searching inside. Azriel picking up on it. 

“That is fucking bullshit! I know she is here. Step aside Lucien or I’ll-” 

“Or you will what Azriel? You and I both know I am not scared of you!” Lucien growled. Azriel chuckled. 

“I knew you would protect your little play th-" Lucien’s nostrils flared as he took in a sharp inhale at Azriel’s intended vocabulary. 

“Careful how you finish that sentence Azriel.” Lucien threatened.  

“What? I smell her all over you! Protecting her is pathetic when you have your mate, Lucien!” Azriel crossed his arms across his chest aloof to the fact Lucien was about to snap.  

In a second Lucien's hand balled into a fist and decked Azriel straight in the nose. You heard the contact from where you were standing in Lucien’s living room.  

“AH! YOU FUCKING DICK!” Azriel screamed as he grabbed his nose to try and ease the pain.  

“Say something like that again Az, I fucking dare you.” Lucien snarled.  

Gods Lucien protecting you was hot, but no matter how hot he might be, your bond was overbearing you. You ran to the door, past Lucien, and straight to Azriel. You looked him over and gods was his nose a mess. Lucien had got him good. You looked back at Lucien who looked like he was about to light on fire. You glared at him for getting physical.  

“He fucking deserved it...” Lucien said as he looked at you shaking his hand off from the impact.  

You were now standing in between the two most loved males in your life right now, unsure on what to do. Do you give into the need to protect your mate, even after everything he has done, or do you give in to the male who has shown you nothing but support even though he has a mate. Not sure what to do, you decide to play both sides and ask a question everyone wanted to know.  

“Azriel why are you even here?” Trying to bury the feeling of wanting to reach out to him to comfort him, you step to stand beside Lucien. Hands slightly brushing against each other, his hands still hot from your previous moment.

“To find you.” He rubbed his nose. “Elain is on a rampage trying to get to you knowing that you had run here to him.” He pointed his head in Lucien’s direction.

So, he came here not for you, but for Elain to try and make her feel better by taking you out of her mate's home.  

“I am not going back there to make that bitch feel better!” You felt Lucien stiffen at your words for Elain.  

“You have to y/n! Look all feelings aside, she won’t calm down. I have tried. Feyre has tried. Nesta has tried, but nothing is working. You need to come back to the townhouse now before shit gets worse!” He looks at you with pleading eyes. Gods he truly cared for Elain, didn’t he? You felt tears prick your eyes. Why couldn’t he care for you this way and not Elain? 

“I am not going back there to get name called again for something that I did before their bond even snapped!” Azriel's gaze softened at your words, not by a lot, but you could see the realization hit him that Elain had gone too far earlier. Lucien finally decided to speak. 

“If y/n returning to the townhouse means Elain calming down, she can go but you must take me with her. I will not stand aside and let y/n bear the burden alone for something we both did.” Wanting his mate to feel better but in a way he knows he can protect you at the same time. Lucien looked towards Az for an answer. 

“I don’t think you coming would be a good idea.” Azriel deadpanned, now seeping back into his usual closed off self.  

“Why? Because you’re scared that maybe the only thing that could potentially help Elain calm down is him? You’re just being jealous that it wasn’t you... set aside your pride for once Azriel and let him come with me,” you said. Azriel thought through your words, and you could tell he wasn’t going to budge. You grabbed Lucien’s hand because what you were about to say was going to hurt you a lot emotionally.  

“Do not think about it for the sake of myself, but for the sake of Elain, Az...” Your tears finally spilled from your eyes as you saw Azriel’s face lighten up at the thought of it potentially helping Elain. Not even sparing a thought that returning there would only make you feel worse. Lucien’s hand tightened around yours as he thought the thought Azriel had failed to see. You smiled up at him as he mouthed, “it will be okay,” as his thumb traced the back of your hand in comfort.  

“Fine. For the sake of Elain, you can both come.” Azriel takes off into the sky as you and Lucien look at each other worried.  

“Y/n, everything will be okay,” he smiled at you. “I won't let anyone else shame you for something we both did in the past. It’s my turn to take on the burden. Don’t let Azriel’s behavior towards Elain stop you from trying to peruse the bond, or you’ll end up like a sorry sucker like me.” He chuckled.  

You laughed at his self-defeating comment as you said, “Thank you, Lu... let’s hope you can calm the raging seer because it was not pretty earlier.” You warned.   

“Yeah, let’s hope for once in her life she actually needs me for something...” He rolled his eyes not believing that this is the moment he is needed for. All this time without her and he's the last option when he should be the first. Gods, Lucien couldn’t help the bubbling anger trying to surface itself that he was her last resort, but his mate needs him! He was not about to ruin this chance for himself, as he grabs your hand and winnows you both to the Townhouse.  

As you reached the front door at the Townhouse you saw Azriel landing beside you and Lucien.  

“Oh, would you look at that,” Lucien looks at his imaginary watch, “just on time shadow singer!” He smirks. 

“I don’t have time for your wit right now Lucien, we have better things to do. Come on.” Azriel said annoyed and walked straight into the house not even bothering to see if you were following him.  

“Guess we need to follow grumpy pants over there,” You teased as Lucien laughed. 

“Y/n I heard that!!” Azriel said over his shoulder only making you and Lucien laugh even louder. You both decided it was best to follow him now that you and Lucien were walking a fine line on Azriel losing his patience.  

You can already hear the arguing as soon as you both catch up to Azriel. Lucien has suddenly gone cold as he hears his mate’s voice for the first time in a while. You heard his heartbeat quicken, from nerves or from longing you couldn’t tell. 

“Lucien if you don’t get ahold of yourself, she is going to walk all over you! Deep breaths, I will be with you the entire time,” you smile at him.  

“What if she sees me and kicks me out? What if my presence makes it worse?” Lucien was starting to panic, all he wanted was to see her and protect you from any more name calling, but this situation was just too stressful for him. Everything was relying on him calming down Elain! How can he do that when he has practically been shunned out of her life. You looked at him, clearly reading his thoughts. 

“Lucien look at me,” his gaze is hazy as he glances towards you, “you are her mate! If anyone can get through to her it’s you! Not Azriel! YOU! Do not doubt your ability as her mate for a second!” You smiled at him, and you squeezed his hand gently.  

“What would a male like me do without you?” He laughed as he squeezed your hand back. 

“I don’t know, probably be a really lonely sorry sucker,” you shrugged your shoulders as you teased him. You have known Lucien for so long that you have picked up the best way to calm him is banter. He chuckled and kept your hand in his as he finished following behind Az.  

Azriel glanced behind him to hear y’all’s exchange after he heard his name. He couldn’t help but see him and Elain in you and Lucien. Did you two like each other? He almost felt jealous, which is weird for him. The last time he felt this way was when you left Rita’s with him. What was going on with him recently?! He was going to have to investigate this for Elain’s sake... or maybe his, so he can stop this unknown and unsettling feeling that has been slowly eating at him.  

“Would you two stop flirting and get a move on? They're in the library which is right around the corner,” Az said annoyed.  

You and Lucien rolled your eyes playfully before you both feared the worst as you reached the entrance to the library. Elain’s rampage is evident as you hear her through the door. 

“Oh, boy here we go again,” you said. 

“Remember what I told you earlier y/n, I won't hesitate to fire back,” Azriel glared. 

Lucien stepped in front of you and threatened, “I won't hesitate to set your balls aflame if you talk to her like that again!” You peered behind Lucien’s back and stuck your middle finger up at Az. He rolled his eyes as he opened the door letting you and Lucien walk in first.  

As you walked in you saw Elain in the center of the room, pacing. Cassian and Nesta took the nearest couch. You saw Feyre and Rhys on the loveseat next to Cassaian and Nesta. Both couples are taking turns trying to ease Elain, but obviously it is not working otherwise you wouldn’t be here. Amren and Mor were sitting by the fireplace drinking from their glasses of wine in annoyance at the situation they had to deal with. Gods, you wish you could join them, they had the right idea... 

“I knew you had run to him! First you fuck him and now you think you can go to him for comfort?! You are not his mate y/n!” Elain’s head snapped in your direction as you both came in. She hadn’t even bothered to acknowledge Lucien. 

“Yeah, I may not be his mate, but you don’t get to call yourself that after all the shit you have been putting him through!” You raised your voice to match hers. “You are nothing but a dead-beat mate who does not deserve someone like Lucien!” 

“Funny, the mother seems to think I do...” Elain snarked back. 

“So then fucking act like it! Stop throwing yourself a pity party and finally realize what the mother gave you!” You point at Lucien. “He. Is. A. Good. Male! What is the issue?” 

“The issue is you have fucked him, touched him, kissed him!” Elain argued back. 

“Mother above Elain, I am not a disease! Grow the fuck up-” you sneered back.  

Everyone in the room could tell this was not going to get any better if they kept letting you two talk. Everyone soon looked towards the two males at the entrance begging for them to do something and step in.

Lucien and Azriel were on top of it as soon as they saw everyone looking at them. Lucien was the one to step in front of you, blocking your view from Elain. His hands gripped your shoulders slightly pushing you back. Azriel was doing the same thing for Elain, only she was more resilient.  

“HOLY SHIT AZ! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE?!” Cassian boomed as everyone saw the lingering bruise on Azriel's nose.. 

“You can thank Lucien for that...” Az deadpanned as Lucien smirked. Everyone’s faces almost seemed surprised by the fact that Lucien had gotten physical with Azriel and had no bruise of his own.  

“It wouldn’t have happened if he didn’t insult y/n.” He shrugged.  

“You did that to protect her?!” Elain was screaming in Azriel’s arms. Lucien looked at you with an apologetic look before he turned to face his mate. 

“Elain,” the sound of her name coming from his mouth had her frozen, “talk to me. No more screaming, no more yelling, just tell me your point of view on what’s going on. Okay?” he asked sweetly. Gods the dexterity of this male.  

“She-” Elain had started to cry, “How could you sleep with someone Lucien?! Especially with someone like her when I am your mate?” You tensed, gods she was still on the petty bullshit. 

“Someone like her, is an amazing female, but you wouldn’t know that because you are too blinded by the fact we slept together!” Lucien explained calmly.  

“Is that so wrong of me to think when I come home to the girls wanting to know all the details of the autumn male rumor that she has learned from you?” Her voice was starting to rise as tears flowed down her cheeks. Lucien took a couple steps towards her, but Azriel was still holding her back afraid things would get ugly if he let her go. You were left standing alone.  

“Elain listen to me, I don’t know what you heard but y/n and I’s previous sexual relations were before I even met you...” Lucien said reassuringly. 

“No! You are lying! That can’t be true-” Elain said in disbelief as the wave of guilt hit her as she looked at you for confirmation.  

“You would have known that if you had just let me talk instead of slut shaming me...” you sassed her. Lucien and Azriel glared at you as if saying your sass wasn’t needed right now. You huffed.

Lucien took the last couple of steps towards her and closed the distance between them as he grabbed one of her hands. This was now paining you to watch. Both of the most adored males in your life comforting Elain as you stood by yourself.  

“Elain it is true, y/n and I slept together before our bond was even put in place... If you need, I will put my mental shields down and let Rhys prove it to you!” He rubbed the back of her hand.   

“Hey, don’t drag me into this! I don’t want to see that; I believe him Elain! Please don’t make me do that.” Rhys begged.   

Elain looked at him in sympathy, “I won’t make you do that.”  

“Thank fuck,” Rhys sighed. You giggled at him as you thought to yourself that it would be a good way to show the girls the rumor. As if Rhys heard your thought, he glared at you. His voice was now in your head saying, “Don’t let them know that! I truly don’t want to see that image of you two.” His face grimaced making you giggle again. Feyre glanced at you two and looked at Rhys questioningly. You could tell they were now talking through the bond.  

Elain glanced down at Lucien’s hand caressing hers. “I am sorry to have made you come all this way for something like this... I should have let y/n explain herself. I'm sorry Lucien..” She says embarrassed. Azriel took this as the queue to let her go knowing she was fine now. He was angry that Lucien was able to calm her, part of him wanted him to fail so he could get another chance. He finally stepped away from the two.  

“It is alright Elain; the bond makes us do crazy things sometimes.” He smiled at her, and she actually giggled at him. He wiped away a couple of her tears, and you could see her lean into his touch. Both smiling at each other lovingly.  

Fuck this was too much for you. You saw first-hand how much Lucien cared for Elain and it hurt, maybe he did still have a chance... You and Elain still had to work out the words you two threw at each other in anger, but you couldn’t do that now. Not with the overwhelming feeling of seeing Lucien hopeful again. Maybe you were being dramatic, but you seriously couldn’t look at them anymore. Seeing him hopeful again reminded you that this crush of yours was not right. 

You began to not think straight. Seeking Lucien's attention and teasing him only led him away from wanting to fight for their bond. All for what? Because Az didn’t notice you?! Gods what were you even doing. You were turning into Elain... All of your threats to her were now hypocritical. Just like the wave of guilt hitting Elain earlier, yours had just come crashing down. As you realized you still stood alone, you quietly excused yourself from the room. Everyone looked at each other confused.   

“I should go see what’s wrong with-” Lucien had tried to leave Elain’s grip, but she only squeezed his hand. 

“Don’t go. I need you, Lucien. I finally feel at peace after hours of torment.” Elain pleaded. 

“You do?” Lucien looked down at her, face red as his hair, as she nodded.  

“Please stay with me for a while longer?” she asked nervously. 

“Anything for you,” as he placed a chaste kiss atop her hand.  

However, you were not out of the library yet as you saw their last exchange before you ran down the hall. Tears stained your face as you continued to run to the other side of the house, needing to get as far away as possible. Little did you know someone else needed to escape that situation just as much as you did. He excused himself as he followed you down the hallway, using your urgent departure as an escape for himself to leave the room.  

Lucien couldn’t help but grovel that he had chosen Elain over you as he watched Az chase after you. That should be him doing that but instead he was here with his mate. Maybe this was for the better? Having both of your mates in this situation could be useful he hoped. For now, he was going to try and enjoy all the time Elain was willing to give him before she kicked him back out of her life for Azriel. He will have to apologize for his behavior later, but like he said earlier, the bond can make someone do stupid things. 

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Post author's note: the smut is coming babes! I promise! I'm working on it rn and i'm screaming and kicking my feet at it. Literally foaming at the mouth 😮‍💨🤤

[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

I cropped this to make my own post because I didn't want to start discourse for OP who is just minding their business and whose posts I've seen around and from that is someone I respect.

(OP if you see this and want to participate in this discussion you are more than welcome to; I just didn't want to derail your post that had a clear intended audience that wasn't me or most of my followers.)

However this:

Is so interesting to me theologically, because I'm not sure I could relate less, lol.

I never want punishment for punishment's sake for anyone, even my worst enemies. I just don't. I don't think it helps at all or fixes anything. If anything, it makes me feel worse, because then I have to consider the ethics of causing suffering to someone or having suffering caused on my behalf. If you hurt me, I don't want a moral, ethical obligation to consider your feelings and empathize with you. You just hurt me! If I hurt you back in ways that aren't simply self-defense, but are calculated and premeditated for the sole purpose of revenge, it doesn't fix whatever you broke, and it just creates a crack that allows you to claim a moral grey area that didn't exist before. And no, I don't want an eternal Hell to exist for me, my enemies or anyone else. The worst person I can think of could not possibly, in the duration of a human lifetime, ever deserve an eternity of punishment. Period. It's not proportional, it still doesn't fix whatever you broke, and it ethically forces my hand to forgive you to hopefully avoid a fate that no one should face.

No, the one thing that I want is teshuva. Let's take the most extreme personal example I can think of: the person who abused me. He cannot fix what he did to me, because it's done. The trauma is there, and no apology could possibly heal it. I healed it, after a lot of hard work. I don't want any kind of relationship with him and have been no contact for years now. So literally the only thing he can actually realistically do is to work on himself so he never abuses anyone else. I don't wish for bad things to happen to him. I gave him everything I had when we were together because I loved him. I don't wish for him to experience abuse, because that's actually almost certainly what started this cycle of violence to begin with. I hope he finds peace, I hope he works on his mental health, and I hope he works on himself so that he never abuses anyone else. If he wanted to make teshuva, then, he would need to (1) recognize the true extent of what he did to me and regret it thoroughly, (2) apologize sincerely, (3) otherwise continue to stay away from me, and (4) actually deal with his problems so that he never hurts anyone else. And so long as he remained in a state of not abusing others, he would have my full forgiveness. He hasn't done any of that, but if he did, I would forgive him fully. How would punishing him help me? I don't care what he does these days as long as he stays no contact and doesn't abuse anyone else.

And yeah - I'm certain Hashem loves him and every other part of creation as much as She loves me; I sure hope so, actually! That doesn't give him or me or anyone else a free pass, but the love of G-d is unconditional, like an idealized parent-child relationship. A loving parent still holds a child accountable, even if they forgive the child for wrongdoing, because the accountability process is actually part of that love. A parent who refuses to hold their child accountable is actually being neglectful.

Anyway it's just an interesting cultural difference, because the very concept of an eternal Hell breaks my faith in a way that unconditional love of G-d towards everyone, including the worst people I know, doesn't.

[avelera]

Vibrating over Daniel’s ending.

I’d love your thoughts on what it means for next season?

(And any other thoughts you have about the finale are so welcome 🙏)

Heya! I actually wrote up my thoughts here.

But, short Daniel-specific version:

I think we'll get Louis-as-Lestat's-agent inviting Daniel to interview Rockstar Lestat for his next book and Daniel salivating at the chance to do so.

(Very different tonally from what I was expecting, btw. No joke, I thought the falling books were going to be Lestat crashing through the ceiling to kidnap Daniel for an interview so he could tell HIS version of the story lol, but I can see why they went for a tearful Loustat reunion instead and how kidnapping Daniel wouldn't have worked with that, funny as it is in my head).

The good news is that I believe we'll get Daniel's snark throughout Lestat's book since that's been the framing device of the show so far (though, there's less of a "mystery" to unravel in Lestat's narrative than in Louis's so... who knows, maybe they will break the format since you don't need an investigative reporter with Lestat to drag secrets out, Lestat literally can't shut up). Honestly, I am SALIVATING to hear Daniel tear Lestat's narrative limb from limb lol.

The bad news is that I think, sadly, that if we dive right into 1-2 seasons of The Vampire Lestat, we won't be getting the space to explore Armand/Daniel and why that happened and if Devil's Minion happened in the past until a theoretical Season 5, if we follow the books and leave the end of TVL to go into Queen of the Damned, where that beat takes place.

IF we do that, sadly, it means we'll have to wait on the full explanation of Daniel/Armand.

HOWEVER, I also wouldn't put it past the show to actually do more interweaving of past and present than that. Have some modern stuff like Daniel/Armand/Devil's Minion in the present day while we're ducking in and out of Lestat's trip down memory lane to 18th century France.

GENUINELY, even as a writer, I don't know how they'll tackle the order of events given that means it'll be a LONG time before we get an explanation for stuff they set up in this season like Daniel's turning and part of me thinks they won't wait THAT long because the eagerness to learn this info is here now, and might not be there in a couple years, people might have forgotten by then.

That said, they also introduced Raglan James, the villain of Vampire Chronicles Book 4, the Body Thief, so that actually signals that they're willing to seed things very early before the pay-off, UNLESS they remix the order of the books significantly and Akasha gets pushed back.

It actually would kinda make sense to push Akasha back she is an EXCELLENT final boss and Body Thief is a bit of a come-down after her so I wouldn't totally blame them for swapping those two books in terms of the order we see their events in. But maybe not! They've been surprisingly faithful in a lot of ways. Regardless, I trust their discretion.

And finally, my hope when we DO finally get Devil's Minion, we're going to have the modern Daniel/Armand juxtaposed with the 1970s one, ending in Armand refusing to turn him in the 1970s, wiping his memory (perhaps knowing that vampirism would drive young Daniel mad, as it canonically did in the books, but old Daniel is made of sterner stuff now) and then we flash forward to the present and old man vampire Daniel and Armand and whatever THEY'VE got going on (hopefully: Daniel domming the shit out of Armand the way he always wanted).

So ok, I lied, I had more thoughts, lol!

[jabesa0]

hi Jackie!!

did you ever feel hopeless or insecure about yourself and your art or feel scared or unmotivated to continue drawing? if yes, do you have any tips on how to cope with that and not to lose faith and motivation?

sorry if the question is too personal btw, love your art!!!!💋

Hello there!!

Hmmm I’d definitely say there’s been times where I’ve been extremely unhappy with my art, though most of it was before drawing mammon.

(More under the cut it got long again lol)

A lot of it stemmed from the typical “can’t seem to find my style” issues that a lot of artists face! I was also generally just unhappy with just my skill level at the time and what I expected myself to be producing, even if I wasn’t ready yet! I’d more likely than not have a bunch of unfinished works that I’d never touch again because I simply lost interest in them the more I worked on them.

I had always liked art and drawing, with people being my main focus, but I don’t think I ever had a direct sort of connection or muse like I have now with mammon.

I know it’s a bit silly but through falling in love with mammon, I was able to sort of give myself the drive I have now to keep improving and working! Rather than studying and practicing just for the sake of it, I would work so that I can draw mammon as best as I can. And if I can’t draw him the way I picture, I simply find ways to improve and take note of so I CAN draw him like I want!

I know it’s said a lot in the art community but genuinely finding something or someone specific that you love with all your heart will help you improve, because you’re doing it for your love of that muse that you have for yourself :D!! Whenever i find myself with free time to draw, i promise you I won’t work on a single thing other than whatever mammon project i have next, and through that I’ve improved many aspects of my art!!

Oh and also take a break when drawings seem to be going bad!! When I struggle with a piece and think “damn this one sucks bad I’m scrapping this”, it’s usually later at night so I choose to go to bed and get a fresh start tomorrow so I can see what’s really bugging me with a piece!

Anyways that’s really my way of not losing motivation, maybe it’ll work for you (hopefully it does!!)!! But definitely for me, my adoration for mammon has spurred me on to work hard so that one day I’ll get asked to paint a beautiful mammon mural that they’ll display on like….the Sistine chapel two or something

[adracat]

G Witch episode 14 thoughts

WHAT DO YOU MEAN I HAVE TO WAIT ANOTHER WEEK FOR MORE??? OMG. I need to take a deep breath and calm down fr. Ok ok, let's do this. Starting from the begining—

We open with Prospera detailing Quiet Zero to a very suspicious Mio. You have to admire mama Char's audacity tbh. Just going yeah, here's my evil plan to network all mobile suits and totally use them for peace and not war crimes. Mio's not gonna fall for it(hopefully?), but we do gain insight on why Delling might be pushing QZ. If it's truly Notrette's vision then he'd feel obligated. We'll have to see if Mio feels the same as her father. Granting this woman any amount of control over a whole network of machines sounds like a recipe for bad times.

Back with Suletta, it's time for the 5lan sexual harassment segment. Mans can't read the room. She's besotted with short angry CEOs in training. Gotta give him props for persistence I guess.

Thankfully, Suletta is saveda by Sophie. She thinks he's a creep too, bless her. It's a shame these two are fated to probably die, because I do find them interesting and sympathetic.

Well maybe not TOO sympathetic. When you threaten best girl, you lose any rights. Sorry Sophie. Tickled by Suletta's firm insistence she has a bride, thank you very much <3

And then the casual atmophere breaks, the illusion of duels is lifted, and our cast are treated to what it truly means to use weapons of war. I loved this segment so much because it drives home the vast gap between the earthians and spacians. Spacians, especially the students, only see Mobile suits as toys at best and vehicles for wealth to the corporations. For earthians, they're grotesque harbingers of war and should be recognized as such. As Norea and Sophie help demonstrate by killing prospective duelists, destroying the arena in the process. A fake battlefield just became a real one.

Meanwhile, Shaddiq takes this chance to manuever himself into power. He kidnaps his adopted father and secures Grassley. His faithful girl posse don't even balk. You have to admire their dedication if nothing else.

You really can't help but empathize with Sophie here. She just wants what everyone should rightly have. Things she was robbed of simply because she's earthian. Her desperation for Suletta to join them is out of those desires--something Suletta understands

And recognizes in this moment her hypocrisy. Because just like Sophie, Suletta would do anything if it meant protecting that which she desired/loved. She murdered without hesitation when Miorine was at stake, and likely would again. HNNNNGGHNG ok, I'm ok

As Sophie continues to press her, you can see Suletta slowly piece it together. Aerial is a tool of war. Why did Prospera build her? Why did her mother sanction murder if it's wrong? She's been conditioned to think Prospera is right and only wants the best for her, but then why is she having her kill and fight in a war machine?

And the question that's been on everybody's mind from the start has been answered! Suletta is not Ericht Samaya. Then where is Eri? In AERIal of course! Lol I was expecting it but it's one thing to theorize and another to see it actually happen. You're one messed up mama, Prospera.

Poor Bel did not see it coming though. She's absolutely horrified Prospera went to these lengths. I still think it was an accident probably but Prospera isn't willing to clarify anytime soon. She's doing it all for Eri she says. Hm, X) DOUBT

Well maybe she THINKS that but we all know she's just using her daughter as an excuse to go off the rails. Massively entertaining either way!

RIP Sophie. You will be missed tbh. Very interesting that she could see/hear Eri inside of Aerial. The true extent of the permet network seems to be a hivemind. Hinted before with Prospera ofc.

Poor Norea though. She seems genuinely struck by Sophie's death and the reminder that she'll share that fate. She's also terrified Suletta can operate Aerial without that inconvenient side effect. I do wonder why she doesn't just crush Suletta when she's floating, but maybe even Norea is scared of the dreaded witch from mercury.

And we're back to Suletta desperately clinging to her mother's teachings. You understand why, but it's heartbreaking. Also sad for Eri, who is confirmed to have died as a child and trapped in a metal prison of her mother's creation. These poor girls aren't through the ringer just yet. We still have plenty more season to go. I really hope Mio returns soon and provides some solace or at least can talk sense into her. But that's for next week, ALAS

[comradeboyhalo]

I agree with you a lot

I don't understand why people are excusing quackity so much. He should've been aware of all this and should have done something.

Tbh he should have never allowed this situation to happen. Imo he was ignorant at best, and negligent at worst.

While he was travelling the world and receiving prizes and recognition, his employees and volunteers were working day and night with little to no pay.

It's good that there's pressure on top of him. His name is attached to the server, to the brand. It's his responsibility. He needs to fix this.

I'm more willing to believe workers that have nothing to lose than a guy who can lose it all.

Sorry if this is too long, or too heated. I'm really disappointed at how the fandom is dealing with this, in its majority. And im glad there's someone who shares the same pov as me.

(i started rambling on this ask im sorry. i didnt word this perfectly so hopefully no one takes this in bad faith.)

almost the entire fandom + the ccs are seeing the best in him, and really really want qsmp to continue. a bit of public pressure doesn't hurt imo. as long as there's clear communication, qstudios' rep shouldn't take a hit - we're all rooting for him. its completely understandable that these reconstructions take time, that people will have to be laid off, but as long as there's clear communication between him and his workers, it should all end up okay.

i totally get all the points that the third party information may not be accurate, that its jumping the gun and sending people on doomposting spirals, but i genuinely do think there is nothing wrong with going public about working conditions. its prompted multiple admins to speak up now, and its let the head admins know that mistreatment will be caught now. having all information solely coming from the company's side is worse. and that's not being distrustful of quackity - that's just being understanding of natural bias.

its important for the fandom to amplify the voices speaking out. this doesn't mean we make crazy conspiracies on how it's all over or whatever, but qstudios has a platform to speak out on, and the workers don't. the doomposting is an unintended consequence, but this is internet fandom after all lol.

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

To the Shadows that Cry Witch /// Chapter I

Hi! Welcome to the first chapter of my fic (I'm very nervous posting this lol). This whole story is gonna be a bit long winded, so hopefully you're all in for the long term, hope you enjoy! <3

Summary: Magic was real, but it came at a price. So when two girls from England ended up in the one place they never thought they could reach, strange things began to happen. Good or bad? That's up to them to find out.

Tags: Kíli x oc/reader - Fíli x oc (POV to be written soon) - Thorin's company x ocs/reader (platonic) - fluff - angst - SUPER slow burn - crack - Bagginshield

Word Count: 1450

Warnings: Nothing really, just some rain :)

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

If you haven't already please read the prologue!

You want background music? Check out my Soundtrack Playlist!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

&lt; Prologue // Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 >

PART 1: Chapter 1 -

Go on a road trip they said, it'll be fun they said.

Pluviophile (Definition): One who loves rain; one who finds joy and peace of mind during rainy days.

Lake District, Cumbria, North-West England - Modern Day Earth, August 2022

English weather truly loves to give the middle finger sometimes, especially on a day out you planned for weeks in advance.

But this is England we’re talking about, so despite the already dwindling faith you put in the weatherman, you prepare for every possible element for when you step out the front door.

I was glad I had this in mind when packing for a week trip to the Lake District. Windermere is notorious for giving not one, but two middle fingers, having more rainy days than dry in the year.

 ‘And today was one of those lovely days,’ I thought, watching as the rolling grey skies grew darker from the curtains of rain hammering down into the soil. Periodically, the shuttle bus would sway slightly from the aggressive wind, creating a silent feeling of unease for the small group of passengers taking the ride to the hostel.

Sensing the symptoms of fatigue from a long trip, I leant my head on the vibrating window, trying my best to ignore the consistent head drilling from both the engine and rain.

Twisting slightly to get more comfortable, I squinted at the foggy glass in attempt to sight see between the streaks of rain racing across my view. At best the only clear thing was my reflection and the stone wall flying past, dangerously close to the bus as it twisted down the narrow road. Everything else merged together into large, blurred masses of green and grey.

Leaning down to pick up and rummage through my bag, I pulled out a small book on glaciers. Kay had practically thrown it at my head once I had proposed the idea travelling up to the lakes. We spent a week packing, with Kay almost bringing down the entire bookshelf trying to find her geography books, that now took up the entire bottom of her rucksack. Sightseeing with your friends in fun, but going with one that will see one (1) rock and spend an hour reciting its origins like Tolkien would looking at a tree is a lot more entertaining and educational.

My drooping eyes looked to the left to see that Kay was still in her shrimp position, headphones on and back hunched at an odd angle with her knees drawn up to prop up the iPad she was drawing on. I decided to leave her be and propped my own legs up, resting the book on my knees as I took out the bookmark and started reading from where I left off, tuning out the murmurs and whispers of the other holiday makers around us.

Around twenty minutes of quiet passed, until the driver up front announced our arrival would be soon, causing a stir as everyone began to gather their bags. Kay still had her headphones on, so I nudged her knee with the book in my hand, waiting as she slipped her headphones off and around her neck,

“Pack your stuff away,” I whispered, “I’ll make sure to get the booking up.”

Both of us began our respectable jobs, Kay making sure everything that had been brought out on the ride was back in its place, whilst I scrolled my phone until I brought up the booking reference.

Considering the rainy weather, we both slipped on our raincoats before slinging the bags over our shoulders, waiting for the bus to slow to a stop. Soon enough, with both hoods pulled up, we squeezed down the aisle along with everyone else and stepped out into the fierce winds and rain.

The sound of the continuous downpour and gravel crunching underfoot filled my ears as I scoured the surrounding area for the hostel. Said hostel was some ways down the winding lane in front of us, nestled within a wide valley surrounded by green, speckled hills smothered with trees, curving down to cradle the small building that stood politely at the bottom. Running from the top of the valley down past the hostel was a small river, threatening to burst at the banks from the onslaught of torrential downpour.

A freak gust of wind and the noise of the shuttle bus pulling away seemed to usher everyone forward, and we began the trudge through the churned up mud and soaking puddles. By the looks on everyone faces, we were all desperate to escape the miserable weather as swiftly as possible.

“Tomorrow better be the light clouds we were promised,” Kay groaned over the noise, face twisting in further annoyance as she looked down to find her shoes and trousers were already caked in mud, “cuz I don’t wanna be stuck in a dingy hostel waiting for all this to blow over.”

I hummed tiredly in reply, agreeing since despite how much I adored the rain, this type of weather wasn’t ideal for hiking up mountains in, no matter how much of an adventure it would be. But tomorrow could wait, since right now, nothing but a warm drink and comfy bed could satisfy us until tomorrow.

After slipping over almost twice, whilst quietly laughing at those who did, we crossed the threshold of the hostel, kicking off our mud clogged hiking boots immediately as to not tread dirt all over the place. We also made sure to give one of the men from the bus stink eye as he trampled past, doing quite the opposite, smearing whatever, wherever, much to the dismay of the poor lady at the desk. Thank god any carpet was yet to appear.

Approaching the desk, I gently placed my boots on the floor as I displayed the booking on my phone to the lady behind it. She reached under the desk and brought out a set of two keys, handing them over. We thanked her politely and wandered further into the building, leaving her with the now nervous man who had finally noticed what was on the bottom of his shoes.

Meandering upstairs and down a few corridors of the small hostel, the door sign eventually matched the key.

“Finally!” I exclaimed in relief, excitedly twisting the key in the lock until I felt a click.

Kay turned to me with a face of exasperation that I couldn’t tell was fake or not.

“13?” She questioned. “Weren’t there at least ten rooms available with a different number?”

“It’s my lucky number,” I stated nonchalantly, using my shoulder to budge the door open. I emptied one hand of luggage onto the floor to flip the light switch. “It’s quite funny watching the looks on people’s faces when I tell them.”

With an amused roll of her eyes, Kay followed in and dumped her own bags on the floor. With light now illuminating the room, we turned to inspect our surroundings.

The room was nothing special, just a plain and simple double bedroom; two single beds; a pair of small bedside drawers sat in between, small lamps on top; two wardrobes pushed against the walls at the foot of each bed; and a few portraits depicting the natural surroundings hung up on the walls.

Like I said, plain and simple.

Tucking my shoes into the corner, I crossed the room with Kay trailing behind and clambered over the creaking bed on the right to reach to window. Gazing out into the valley, I realised the rain had slowed to a stop, now able to make out the details of the thick forest outside. Picking up a key that had been left on the windowsill, I flicked off bits of rust that had begun to form on the metal before carefully slotting it into the keyhole and twisting. Pulling the handle up, I swung open the window, taking a deep inhale as I breathed in the fresh breeze that replaced the stagnant air inside.

After taking in our weeklong view, an hour or so was spent putting away everything we had brought. I had overpacked as usual, so Kay lent me half a drawer, in exchange for the window side. Shoes and wash bags were left by the door since the bathrooms were communal instead of personal.

The remainder of the day was us mostly chilling in our room, taking a couple visits downstairs to explore the rest of the building and eat in the small canteen, before heading to bed for the night.

The next few days trudged by contently as we explored the surrounding area, visiting the nearby towns and returning to our room with a concerning amount of bags brimming with gift shop items. I had gone a little crazy after spotting a shelf of glass animals, if the bag containing half a dozen at the foot of my bed said anything.

However, tomorrow’s plans were different.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

&lt; Prologue // Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 >

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Okay, this took many redrafts to write lol, so I really hoped you enjoyed reading it just as much as I did writing it!

Chapter 2 is out now!!

Taglist:

@opheliasdrowningg

[psychewritesbs]

Crazy how loads of people from this fandom lacks faith in Megumi yet you've got the strongest sorcerer of today and the strongest sorcerer in history simultaneously vouch for him.

Gojo confidently believing Megumi will push through and know the truth about his father.

Sukuna, who pushed Higuruma and recognized his talent yet still said he wasn't anything special, but for some reason he never exhibited that kind of attitude to Megumi despite screwing with him over and over. It begs the question, what it is that they see in him doesn't it? Yet people prefer to ask dumbly why Megumi is acting the way he does as if the reason hadn't been made clear since the beginning.

And can we talk about the blatant hypocrisy in this fandom? People are comparing him to Yuji as if what he's going through is any different than that of Yuji in Shibuya. Did they conveniently forget how Todo had to step in and talk no jutsu Yuji to pick himself up cause he was so down in the dumps?

There's also the rampant complaints about characters not reacting emotionally to deaths and yet we have a character right now, whose reacting emotionally to the death of a loved one yet they're chastising him for it? Which is it really?

Welcome to jjk-confessions Sunday, not on a Sunday as per usual.

I'm going to repackage your ask and frame it using the following formula:

Megumi = the shadow.

The shadow = the repository of repressed or rejected aspects of our personality.

TLDR; Megumi catches very interesting projections to say the least.

Like potential man isn't even a bad meme tbh, because he is potential man. That's Megumi. But like, it's the attitude towards the idea that he is having such a hard time reaching his potential (something that is VERY understandable given his backstory and how that affected his sense of self).

I swear every time I see something bad about Megumi (other than "I just don't like him", "he doesn't speak to me", or "I couldn't get invested because xyz was missing from the narrative--that is actually lacking"), there's always some sort of rejection of vulnerability at the core of it.

Which as I have said only like 350,068,023 million times already I've been keeping track, Megumi rejects his vulnerability.

So when I see a lot of the comments about Megumi, what I see is the complete rejection of one's humanity if I'm honest. Like, everyone in jjk is being shown to have some kind of very flawed perception of the world, and for some reason Megumi picks up projections around being a bitch for someone, being weak, pathetic... do I keep going?

And this is all so interesting to observe because he is such a beautiful character when you take the time to understand him. Gege cooked with Megumi.

Idk, I can't help but feel like it's interesting how Gege keeps breaking the 4th wall with jjk, and Megumi is one of the ways he's doing it. And idk about y'all, but I think he's very conscious of how he directs his energy towards the fandom.

idk how to explain well. Hopefully that makes some sort of sense lol.

Anyways. Thanks for sending a letter in anon. We remain strong.

[nani-nonny]

First of all AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH A NEW CHAPTER!!! AND AFGER DAYS OF THE PREVIOUS ONE?!?! NANI YOU ARE SPOILING US SO HARD!!! AM FEELING LIKE ROYALTY!!🤍✨

Two, oh my god more reasons to feel complex towards F!Draxum, like if he kept on failing he may keep going on making more eggs until he reach a good results! Like this make me think; is this really worth it?? Is those trial and errors are worth it? Why making the baby?? Like each new information bring me back to the main question "Why making the baby in freaking apocalypse and a losing one at that?" (That if they were knowing they're losing).

I wasn't surprised when Lou after born or hatched was fragile because she didn't had nutritions to build her body, and probably won't be able to survive longer until the right ingredients or nutrients were given.

And a new surprised came to me! Leo LAID EGGS?!?!? That surprised me!!👀 this's like my very first read fic by you that pointed out something like this!! I don't know how i feel, definitely not negative but nit positive.. Maybe i actually don't have much thoughts about this? One thing for sure, Lil Leo will be surprised more then me!!🤣

Tho a point had been pointed out; how come baby lou have memories of things that don't or shouldn't exist in her memory?? At that point a thought came to mind; could F!Draxum planned to point out his memories onto baby Lou? In case F!Leo went to her memories he would see those??

After saving baby Lou from the near to death, seeing him trying to feed her and act like a baby was so so CUTE!!! Am sad he isn't around to talk with F!Leo.

Also this...

Is the most, funny thing ever lol!! I remembered that old story where a witch trap two siblings and try to feed them SO she can eat them!!

This exactly is what i want to know!! What Draxum is on to make a secret project, WHY he haven't told ANYBODY?!?! Why?!?!? But thinking about it, Draxum can't outright say "Am experimenting on children" and think he can go freely would he?

I honestly don't need a brain to know what he's up to lolol, he like thinking "do i... Or do i not..."

This gave me a thought as "would he reject lou because he already have CJ?" If this's right then that mean lou's existence depends on F!Leo acknowledging her as his child (something F!Leo was denying in the first few chapters lol).

This thought made me think of an answer as to why she was born "was Draxum realized Leo's obsession in its early days? And he made Baby Lou in case they were all dead including CJ? So F!Leo can have more reason to fight for in the war? Or even continue living?".

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH I LOVE THIS!!! YOU DON'T KNOW BUT WHEN IT COMES TO FATHER - DAUGHTER DYNAMICS I LOVE IT WHEN HER DAD CALLS HER PRINCESS!! BECAUSE SHE'S THE APPLE OF HIS EYES🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

I can imagine if F!Leo met F!Draxum he would scold him for not taking a good picture that shows his charm lolol.

God the end was like a movie's bad ending!! Not i mean it's bad but i mean it was hard to not feel intense, fear and emotions!!

Hehe now you have to wait weeks for the next chapter :D /j

I love how you have similar questions F!Leo has! Perfect! I love that it’s getting to you too! And yes, F!Draxum is so complex with his decisions! There are so many questions rising from his actions that don’t seem so linear. And unfortunately, from his monologue you can tell he knew the end was coming. He phrased it as “one-sided war” showing he doesn’t have faith that theyll win, which shows another reason why he created Baby Lou. He’s showing that with her creation he can hopefully form more hope to cling onto, other than giving F!Leo something else to fight for.

Yeah, having a baby in the middle of an alien apocalypse wasn’t the brightest decision anyone could have made. *looks at CJ and Baby Lou*

But on that note, yes! He laid eggs! It was mentioned in the previous chapter too hahaha! Although, this wasn’t stated anywhere, but F!Leonardo didn’t lay eggs once or twice every year like the typical freshwater turtles do. He laid eggs once every two or so years, but it wasn’t linear as it staggered a bit because of the apocalypse. And yippee! This is my first fic utilizing this headcanon! My other peepaws I didn’t really want to focus on that and left it for interpretation… but this one I HAD to point it out hehe

But aside from that… Lil Leo won’t exactly be surprised… *side-eyes excitedly*

Oh! Baby Lou having memories she “doesn’t” have! That was already solved by F!Leo! She was awake through all the memories we witnessed! She was just too weak to do anything or show much movement. So no, F!Draxum didn’t make any big-brained plans as if he foresaw F!Leo coming into her memories. Baby Lou is an observant little baby, which she gets from her father ;D she couldn’t do much but watch the small world around her

F!Draxum being grandpa to his granddaughter makes my heart warm :) he’s so sweet to her, and it really is a shame that F!Leo wasn’t there to witness it in person—in real life that is hehe

Oh! The story of the kids and the witch with the candy house? Is that how it goes? I can’t remember lol but haha ol’ grandpa Drax joking about not eating the baby is similar hehe

Exactly! “Why?” It’s so simple but not at the same time! F!Draxum you tease /j

Fun part about this is that it’s showing he’s hesitating… he knows what he’s doing isn’t “good”. But he has good intentions. “Do I or do I not?” is a big question for him. He’s trying to convince himself that what he’s doing is for a greater purpose, much like when he first created the turtles from Splinter’s DNA hehe

Yes! I’m glad you pointed that out! “Would F!Leo reject the baby as his own?” Which shows one of the many reasons why F!Draxum didn’t expose her existence! And it showed how much thought F!Draxum put into this experiment! He was right about F!Leo’s hesitance hehe

Yeah! Exactly! The reason for her existence isn’t pure, she wasn’t created because F!Draxum simply wanted grandchildren and the turtles weren’t pulling their weight (/j). She was made with a purpose. She was made as a “replacement” as F!Leo put it hehe

Father-daughter relationships :(((( they’re so cuties! His wee princesita hermosa! Although, this nickname won’t last long because he’s showing signs of discomfort in using it lol

Hahaha! I can see it now! F!Leo upset that F!Draxum didn’t get his good side! Good thing F!Draxum was sneaky in taking the photo lol it would’ve taken all day to get a good one

I’m glad you didn’t think it was bad! And perfect! I want you to feel those feelings! I want you to feel as uncertain and feeling complex feelings that F!Leo is feeling! Heheh it’s all according to plan

[tearsofcalamity]

hi hi its wriofucker69 again taking a break from the wrio fucking to say a few things! first, oh my god thank you so much for explaining the fuckin bachelors thing to me I'd had that question for so long. you see in my country a 4 year (bachelors) education is the minimum so i just didn't understand!! also lots of ppl like to dunk on business majors but I've taken like a couple economics/marketing classes myself and. jesus fucking christ. respect honestly i almost dropped out.

if you're wondering im in communications + cultural studies, it's a bit of a mix and match kinda department. I've got a short story assignment for one class and a fuckin video essay for another one. nothing here makes sense

btw i updated hsr so i just. have to Actually get around to it now. hopefully soon!!

btw your recent kaveh.... delicious, thank you for the food. smth about that pretty boy makes me wanna be soo so gentle to him yet teasing at the same time. overstimulating him by fucking him while mouthing at his wings then wiping his tears away all soft & gentle and telling him what a good boy he is and how pretty he looks...... AHH!

WELCOME BACK WRIOFUCKER ANON!!!!

glad to hear my explanation kinda helped!! yeah we don't have mandatory bachelor's here, I guess high school would be the closest we have to mandatory 4-year "upper" education but it's a lot different from our university system :,) thank you for the faith in us business/econ majors LOL it's true that some of the courses and concepts seem a bit basic (the biggest one I see referenced is profit = revenue - costs which like Yeah Obviously but that's like the first concept in your first intro to business class LOL) but a lot of people don't get that it can be a total hassle omfg

AND OMG... I CANT IMAGINE BEING IN COMMUNICATIONS PROPS TO YOU!!! I took a few communications classes for general ed and I was having a very difficult time so omfg good on you, cultural studies sounds super fun though!! I wish you luck with all your assignments ;w;

YIPPEEEEE FOR HSR!!! boothill isn't out yet (it's currently robin, an intergalactic singer + topaz/numby rerun!) but I definitely recommend getting him... he'll be great for a returning player I think! of course there's also another good character rerunning with him so do whatever you fancy :3 they're pretty generous with returning players!

THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE ON THE KAVEH STUFF AS WELL!! I fear he is deeply underrated by the fandom... as a kaveh enjoyer who isn't really into hkvh/kvthm (no disrespect though!! I'm just personally not big into the ships :,) I am afraid I very seldom get content of Just Him so I write him whenever I can

I soooo get it when you say wanting to be gentle yet also teasing, like... I wanna be kinda mean to him and fuck him until he's crying and overstimulated and begging but also at the same time he's my sweet angel prince who I want to lather with affection and love and gentle kisses and treat him like a delicate precious gem... I don't think I could ever like outright degrade him I'd have to throw in praise too like "my pretty slut" but honestly it's more worth to see how he squirms and moans when you call him a pretty boy or your good boy...!!!!! and you just know he's gorgeous when he cries he's totally a crier during sex!!! aauughjyghghghghfjghghjg I need him so bad oml

[these-detestable-hands]

Ok so

Yes, overall, RWBY is very good! It's a story with a lot of heart, a cool world, and some rly lovable characters! It takes a minute to pick up but that's just cus it wants you emotionally invested in the characters before the real plot starts, so you actually care about what happens to said characters. It's got a great message about staying hopeful despite The Horrors too. One of my favorite shows ever tbh

Like I said tho it's not perfect and is unfortunately a victim of being rushed thru production by the company that had been behind it for its whole lifetime up until now, Rooster Teeth. The showrunners were put under rly bad time crunches and weren't given the budget to do everything they wanted. RT is shutting down now and RWBY is searching for a new company so hopefully this shouldn't be a problem in the future, but who's to say?

Some criticisms of the show are kinda blown out of proportion (there's this rly loud minority that thinks it's like The Worst Show Ever and if you like it you're The Worst Person Ever for. some reason??? heck if I know) so maybe take any negative things you've heard with a grain of salt — I'd say not to knock it until you've tried it — but dgmw it's ok to criticize it and even dislike it due to its imperfections

There's one thing that especially suffered from this tho, one thing that might break your interest, so I think you deserve to know at least the minimum of this. So there's fantasy racism. And due to it being kinda rushed (especially near the end of its plot importance) it unfortunately doesn't land well!

Now I will add that I can say with confidence that this topic was tackled in good faith; the writers themselves admitted to being "too ambitious", so I think they know they kinda messed up. And if we compare this to, say, the beastlings from Octopath 2, it's certainly handled much much better in comparison imho! However, it wasn't able to be handled with the full nuance and depth that it deserved, and so the whole plotline suffers deeply despite the attempts to do it justice. There's definitely worse fantasy racism out there, like I don't think this is the worst, but it's not the best either. It tries tho at least

I don't want to go into too much more detail bcus spoilers. But I think you've talked before on how much you hate this kind of stuff so I wanted to make sure you knew about this ahead of time. If this makes you not wanna watch the show I'd totally understand

But I do sincerely think that, if this didn't scare you away, the show is rly worth a shot! It's not for everyone but I personally think it's great despite its flaws (which I can mostly forgive due to the aforementioned external factors) and there's a lot of things here you could enjoy

If you do choose to give it a try I'd recommend going into it with as little information as possible, it's a show most enjoyed when you don't know what comes next. (I mean I am enjoying my rewatch cus I can catch foreshadowing and details but I may be biased bcus hyperfixation lol)

(But don't enter the fandom unless or until you're ready to block tags and block ppl willy nilly. It's the wild west out here, from the terrible bad faith takes to the excessive obsession with shipping. I just stick with the few good RWBY blogs I follow and call it good personally lol)

So yeah I think it's pretty cool but due to that one thing, if you don't think you'd like it I get it

Question: is it that the creators are racist (eg, what happened to the beastlings) or that there's in universe racism? (eg, dungeon meshi)

[scknight05]

WIP Wednesday 📝

I wasn't tagged by anyone since no one really knows me (yet.. hopefully.. maybe.. I dunno..lol) But I do wanna tag @tizniz, for being my biggest supporter with this journey, as well as @warpedpuppeteer because they both have been super awesome in letting me toss around my totally insane ideas with them and giving me input when I'm stumped.

This will probably be the first 9-1-1 fanfic I post, but it's not the first one I've started... And there are sooooo many more ideas to come soon hopefully. But this is what I'm currently working on and a few warnings before hand. 1-This is the first story I've written in a LONG time. So I'm rusty. EXTREMELY rusty! 2-I haven't done any major editing yet so I apologize for any errors. 3-I may be sharing too much with this compared to other people's "WIP Wednesday" posts so half of it will be behind a cut (if you make it that far and want to keep reading).

A little tidbit: what I'm posting is actually the scene that jumped into my head when this idea was born so I'm creating the story around it. And as of this moment, I do NOT have a title for this.. That's one thing I am also very horrible at... creating titles.

So I'm gonna shut up now and get on with it!

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay, Buck?” Buck wrapped his arm around Chris’s shoulder and pulled him close. “Of course I am! As long as I have you, your dad and everyone else I love in my life I’m gonna be just fine.” Chris beamed with joy as he threw both of his arms around Buck’s chest to give him a tight hug. “I love you, Buck.” Buck could feel tears of joy and happiness welling up in his eyes as he smiled down at Christopher who was still clinging tightly to his chest. He leaned down and pressed a kiss against the curls on top of his head. “I love you too, buddy. Always will.” Buck sniffed and tried to discretely wipe his eyes before Chris could see. “Now how about I go check on dinner? Make sure your dad doesn’t burn everything to a crisp.” “Good idea.” Chris laughed. “But we could always order a pizza just to be safe!” With a laugh, Buck ruffled Chris’s hair, earning him a slight groan before he moved from where he was sitting on the boy’s bed. “We’ll keep that as Plan B, just in case. But I have faith in your dad.” With a smile on his face, he closed Christopher’s door and slowly made his way towards the living room. His smile quickly faded with the pain in his head still persistent but also beginning to throb uncomfortably against his skull, causing him to have to prop himself against the wall for a moment. He clenched his eyes closed in an effort to quell the pain and stop the room from spinning. “You good, Buck?” He hadn’t even heard Eddie approach and forced his eyes open to see he was standing in the middle of the living, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

“Y-yeah, its just this stupid headache. It won’t go away and now my head feels like it’s about to explode.” Buck attempted to take a few steps but in hindsight it was a bad idea. The room suddenly began to spin violently and the only reason he wasn’t on the floor was the fact that Eddie had all but ran to him and was now holding Buck by his shoulders to steady him in place. “Hey, hey. Easy, Buck!” Eddie’s eyes widened with worry while he watched as Buck took a few deep breaths in through his nose. “You still with me?” “Yeah. Yeah, sorry about that.” He replied shakily as he rubbed his eyes before placing his hand on Eddie’s forearm. “Thanks for catching me.” “Always.” Eddie smiled at Buck reassuringly, assessing him and making sure he wasn’t about to faceplant into the floor again before letting him go and making his way back towards the kitchen. “Dinner is basically ready, so lets get some food into you and see if that will help.” “Good idea. I’ll just go grab Christopher.” Eddie stopped and turned to look at Buck, confusion set across his face. “Who’s Christopher?” Eddie asked as his face scrunched up. “Very funny, Eddie.” Buck rolled his eyes and chuckled and turned back in the direction of the door he had closed behind him not too long ago. “Seriously Buck, who are you talking about?” “Christopher. You know, your son.” “Buck? I don’t have a son.” Eddie slowly began to walk towards Buck as he laughed. “Are you sure you’re okay?” “Okay, good one Eddie.” Buck just smiled as he reached the door and turned the knob. “Hey Chris, are you in on this too? Your dad is acting lik….” Buck’s voice trailed off as he looked into the room, a shiver shot down his spine and he felt like he had ice in his veins. He gazed around the space he was in not even five minutes earlier but instead of finding the preteen on his bed, the room was completely different. Where there once was a bed, posters adorning the wall, and other memorabilia indicating the presence of a preteen, in its place was now a large desk and stacked bookshelves; a home office it seemed. “What the hell?!” Buck’s voice was barely a whisper, his eyes widening in fear and confusion as he looked around the room. “Eddie, what is going on?! WHERE is Christopher?” “Buck, I keep telling you I have no clue who this Christopher you’re talking about is! A-and him being my son? I’ve never had a son!”