#i just cannot make life easy for him i guess

[running-in-the-dark]

and I'm having thoughts again

so I've been watching that John Larroquette interview that I reblogged on repeat for half an hour now and I'm just. man I am so very....... okay I'm trying not to say that I'm stupid anymore but god what else is there to say. it's making me feel like my brain just turns off and all there is is static and [insert very high frequency screaming sound].

like I would love to be able to have actual thoughts about this shit but I am not. I just love love love people who think about shit and face their issues and work on getting better. and talk about it. like it's just a thing that happened. because it is. it's not 'oh you did bad shit in your past so you're fucked forever now'. it's 'bad shit happened, I did bad things, I confronted it, I made different choices' and that's it. I just. man I'm feeling really emotional and am probably gonna have a good long cry about this now.

[no-144444]

the grid: No Nut November!

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Featuring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Franco Colapinto, Logan Sargeant, Daniel Riccardo, Liam Lawson, Charles LeClerc, Max Verstappen, Paul Aron, Arthur LeClerc.

thank you to the person that requested this!!!

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Oscar Piastri: wouldn’t do it. 

Even if every driver on the grid was offering 1,000€ each as a prize, he was not giving up fucking you for an entire month. 

Even though he looks like a sweetie pie he would absolutely be a freak in the sheets and he was not about to give up the only way he actually gets his frustration out (aka fucking you). 

Everyone kind of boos him for it but then half way through the month he gets to be smug while they’re all miserable and complaining, because he can fuck his girlfriend whenever he wants. 

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Lando Norris: would try, but definitely fail. 

He wouldn’t care about the prize, he’d just have such a ‘how hard can it be?’ attitude. 

Newsflash: extremely. 

You would not make it easy for him either; wearing the sluttiest clothes, basically giving him fuck me eyes all the time, enjoying it when you see him get hot and bothered. 

He snaps on his birthday, and fucks you for hours straight. You can barely walk the next day. 

He decides to own up and pay his part of the bet with no shame, he has a hot girlfriend and he likes fucking her, sue him! 

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Lewis Hamilton: wouldn’t even try

He’s uninterested in the things most of the grid do in their spare time, and he knows they’re uninterested in him too. They don't need to know about his sex life, but what people can guess is that it is very much alive. 

I mean… you two had a baby literally 8 months after your wedding, to the day. 

The other 3 kids don't exactly help his case… 

He’d say yes, just so he could be added to the group chat and he would tell you who is winning and losing.

He’d lose on the first day with no shame. Everyone knows he's just here for the public shaming of others. 

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George Russell: would win

Not saying he’s not a freak in the sheets, but he would set up the entire thing (group chat, the money pool, etc.) and he cannot be seen lacking. 

Even if it wasn’t his idea, he still needed to win. 

You do make the entire month absolute torture though. 

Matching sets, showing as much skin as possible, everything. 

Even walking around the apartment naked. 

But somehow, he doesn’t budge. 

At the end of the month he does fuck you for ages, and you literally cant get out of bed, let alone follow him to a race. He tells the media you’re sick and all of the drivers have the dirtiest laughs as he explains. Despite every question, they keep their mouths shut. 

George did announce that he won at the end, much to your chagrin. 

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Alex Albon: he’d last a while

 He would honestly be pretty good. 

He kind of breaks the rules, he constantly gives you oral and jerking himself off, but it wasn’t specifically stated in the rules (apart from the name… but whatever)

He makes it like halfway through the month until a particularly bad race result. 

He fucks you all night. 

When you both get to the paddock in the morning, George pays him a visit to collect the money like the smug bastard he is. 

He heard you two last night. 

He was 4 doors down. 

Oops. 

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Franco Colapinto: he’s the one who accidentally tells the press. 

We all know Franco is awful at keeping his mouth shut, and in an interview he somehow lets it slip that he needed to find George to give him money. 

They ask him what for. 

He says ‘the bet’ and explains that they’re doing NNN this year and that he lost. 

It was worth it though, you two hadn’t seen each other in months (you were busy in uni, he was busy at races) and he just had to have you. 

He made it like a quarter of the way into the month. 

He didn't really care. 

The drivers honestly just found it funny that he told the media. 

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Logan Sargeant: would make it most of the way, but just fall short by like 4 days.

He had done so well, ignoring all of your sexual advances for the majority of the month…

Then he got drunk. 

Drunk Logan and drunk you? Yeah, you’re fucking. 

He couldn’t keep his hands off you, and he paid the price. 

He paid up sheepishly the next day, George looked at him with the smuggest smile ever. 

Logan didn’t even care. He fucked you twice as much as before. 

He has to make up for lost time, right? 

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Daniel Riccardo: he would lose immediately.

This man is a 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓀 

He would kind of do the same thing as Lewis, pay to just watch the rest of them loose. 

He does last a little bit longer though (in their eyes).

 He doesn’t pay up until the second week even though he’s been fucking you the entire time. 

He has absolutely no shame about it either. 

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Liam Lawson: he would almost win.

He's such a cutie. I think he’d somehow abstain for a while. 

He’d get to around the 26th, and then give up. 

The month was torture though. 

You literally would beg him every night, and he would just have to say no. 

You were impressed at how long he lasted. 

But then he gave in after he scored points in mexico...

Yuki ratted him out to George, he was very embarrassed.

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Charles LeClerc: he would lose immediately.

Charles is an idiot. 

He would lose the first day by accident, and then try to pretend that it doesn't count until George actually comes knocking on his drivers room door looking for the money. 

He heard you, of course. 

Charles reluctantly watches the rest of the month play out, bitter that his own forgetfulness took him out so early. 

He vows to win next year. 

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Carlos Sainz: wouldn’t do it. 

He’s not giving up fucking you for a month. No way. 

He also wouldn’t be interested in the sex lives of others enough to even pay into it like Lewis. 

His sex life is his own, and as much as he loves healthy competition, this is a race he’s happy to lose. 

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Max Verstappen: would be a huge bitch all month.

Dude is like a moody teenager when he’s not getting it. 

Daniel persuades him to do it and he makes it a few days in.

Literally turns into the biggest moody bitch ever.

By the 8th day everyone is begging you to just fuck him so he’ll stop being such a cunt to them.

You do. 

He pays up and spends the rest of the month fucking you. 

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Paul Aron: he would almost win.

He would last pretty long. Like maybe more than half the month

Despite his playboy facade, he’s actually more into cuddles and shit like that. 

 But after a bad race…

Yeah, he pays up with zero shame. 

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Arthur LeClerc: he would lose, in two ways. 

Y’know how quickly Charles lost, yeah he’d be worse.

He wouldn’t forget, he’d just think that he can get away with fucking you all month but of course, that doesn’t happen.

George comes knocking after Charles tells him he can hear you two.

You are deeply embarrassed that your boyfriend's brother heard you two having sex, and you impose a ban for the rest of the month. 

You say it’ll help you both be more aware of when and where you’re doing it, and how to not get caught by his brother again. 

He curses out his brother the next time he sees him.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[orteil42]

I finally found you. Er, more specifically, I wasn't aware that you were so easy to find. Admittedly, I was never a big fan of cookie clicker. I never got enjoyment out of it and (as you are WELL aware) it started a Wave of games that maybe didn't add much to the industry, I don't think. (Maybe I'm wrong, though- again, I haven't really looked closely at it.) So y'know, I never looked closely at it, and I'm still not going to. Idle clickers just can't hold my attention and I don't want anything to do with them tbh.

However.

Our parents- well, they said they loved us, but my mother did nothing but scream at my little brother for misbehaving, and my father would yell at him if he laughed- treated him terribly. My mother cites his autism for the reason why he didn't talk for the first few years of his life but if I had to guess, it was probably more because he was punished for noise.

Genuinely? Genuinely. Thanks for keeping my little brother distracted from the traumatic, scarring things happening around him in his youth. You don't know how much comfort it brought me to stare off into the horror and just to turn and see how he was doing to find him making like. A shitton of cookies, without a thought in the world.

And no matter what anyone else says about any other part of your game, no matter how much shit anyone like me would want to give you for the admittedly hilarious trend it started.

Still- your game brought a little boy who had a very niche, very unfortunate passion quite a lot of joy. While the world fell apart around him, he had Cookie Clicker.

There is nothing in the world I would want more than my brother having something he can enjoy without being yelled at, or without it being taken from him. There is nothing more precious to me than my little baby brother.

And I mean that.

So thank you. You've saved my brother's life and in turn saved mine, and I cannot be more thankful.

well! damn

[vagabond-umlaut]

summer collapsed into fall

summary: gojo satoru has no favourite colour. he feels no need nor interest to have one, either. pairing: gojo satoru x reader [unspecified gender] tags: slight undertones of teacher-student relationship BUT there is NO ACTUAL romance between them; can this be called pining? idk; character study like fic of our sweetest satoru *cries* he deserves sm better; fluff but with a mild serving of angst; wc 0.8k notes: fic title inspired by a quote by oscar wilde; fic inspired by this lovely post i saw on pinterest; jjk isn't mine; loosely related to 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate'; tumblr hates me using dividers hence the new fic format ^_^

satoru doesn't really have a favourite colour.

it's never quite crossed his mind. and even if it has, he has never seen it to be important enough to allow it be anything more than a passing thought, a meaningless thought---it is not like his life will be impeded should he not have a favourite colour, nor is anyone ever going to ask him what it is, so why bother?

but now, as you peer up at him expectantly, having already listed your top five favourite colours and why you love them so, satoru wishes he did bother back then.

he decides to feign confusion.

"what?"

"what what?" you shoot back, eager gaze not wavering one bit, "i just told you my favourite colours; aren't you gonna tell me yours? it's fine even if you have just one, sensei."

but is it fine if he has none?

throwing his watch a quick glance, he turns back to you. then exhales a quiet sigh, tired but the farthest from annoyed, when he sees you're still waiting for his reply... shutting the bus window beside, he turns to lean against it, shifting to face you properly.

and sighs, decidedly noisier this time, "this isn't the type of questions one asks their teacher, y'know? they are too casual, meant more for a friend than for a teacher."

"you got to be the last guy to lecture me about etiquette, sensei," you retort without missing a beat, huffing a quiet, amused laugh.

"and after the time i had to bring you to ieiri-san after you passed out from drinking a bit too much: i guess we're a bit more than a teacher and a student, aren't we, sensei?"

not really... no.

while satoru believes your first point to be a debatable topic, he does not think the two of you are anything but a teacher and a student, no matter how much help you extended to him or will in the future---it's not like he isn't grateful, though. he is; he really, really is---it's just his belief that few acts of kindness do not necessarily cause a friendship between people, and he intends to tell you this very clearly---

but finds he cannot. he simply cannot.

not when you say, still so eager but with an undercurrent so achingly soft that even the strongest wonders if he can handle its weight: "i'm not that bad a friend, y'know---you can ask others if you want; they'll tell you i'm a good friend, not the best but a decent one---"

"why don't you guess what's my favourite colour?"

rude, yes, horribly so. satoru knows, he knows this very, very well. but what can a man do but divert when he's being unsettled by words like the ones you addressed to him, by the tenor you employed for him---

although now that he observes you consider his suggestion, the man wonders if diversion was the right tactic or not.

he could have just lied and told you any random color. he could have chosen to be honest and told you he has no favourite colour like you and probably the rest of the world have.

but no, he doesn't.

satoru does not opt either of the above two painfully simple, painfully easy options. choosing instead to ask you to guess what his favourite colour is... satoru never really anticipates he'll end up being this much more unsettled, thanks to his decision of diversion:

if there was a subtext of a haunting softness in your manners before, the sorcerer reckons it is the text now, typed out in bold letters then underlined and highlighted in neon---you too shift to face him, even moving the bag kept in between to your lap and shifting a bit closer, but still a respectable distance away---only to punctuate your effort with a keen stare, much too gentle, at him.

it's scary, he thinks. yeah, undoubtedly scary. but somewhere in the back of his mind, something says it's also comforting.

many eyes look at satoru throughout the day. they gape, they gawk, they study the man and every small aspect of his person with many different kinds of reasons behind them. but before today, there has never been anyone who has regarded him with this much care, that too for a nonsensical cause like yours...

he wonders, just what are you seeing in him?

just who are you seeing in him?

"it's orange, isn't it?" you exclaim abruptly, leaning a touch forwards with a snap of your pointer and thumb. voice too loud. smile too big. eyes too bright, way too bright---

satoru takes not even one whole second to decide:

he now has one favourite colour.

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

hey! I'm pretty new to your stories: currently reading curse words and loving it! (I started the first book with the mindset that I wouldn't be caught enough to miss some real life stuff because of reading... guess what, I missed some real life stuff reading.)

but now I have a question: the books have a pretty intricate plot with a lot of good payoffs for small things. which is very cool from a reader's point of view, but from the writer's one— can you maybe share some stuff about your process? especially in the early stages, how do you go from the initial spark of an idea and what this is about to a fully formed plot? would be cool if you're willing to share

anyway have a great day I'm off to start the third book hehe!

One thing to know about me is that I have just the worst possible imagination. Absolute pisspoor garbage imagination, nothing going on up there. When I want to plot, my process is simple:

Find a problem, then solve it.

Curse Words was born of several disparate story ideas coming together, but mostly I wanted to play with the magic system -- I wanted to write a story where spells were metaphysical parasites that possessed mages, and each mage could only cast their unique spell. The whole thing came about when reading The Princess Bride, specifically the chapter where Buttercup dreams of being a perfect baby and the doctor looking her over and regretfully informing her parents that she was born with mo heart -- I was possessed with this powerful impression of a slightly wacky doctor peering over the top of his rose tinted glasses to inform a pair of parents that their baby had a curse trapped in her heart. From there, it's find the problem, solve the problem.

I wanted to separate Kayden from his family and put him in an unfamiliar environment for the story so that he and the audience would be on a pretty similar level re: world information; isolated magic and a magic school is the easy way to do that. Okay, so why is this school isolated? Why is the curse thing not common knowledge? Why do the public fear curses and have such limited access to magic that it's not a part of Kayden's day-to-day, if it's so useful? Solve the problem; look at the economy. The unique nature of spells makes them difficult to scale up, and the unpredictable nature makes them inferior to technological solutions to problems in most large-scale issues. What does this say about how the Industrial Revolution would've affected the usefulness, and therefore the public perception, of magic? The logical conclusion is the Purity Revolution.

This school is gathering and teaching all these students; why? I wanted a clear division between witches like Kayden and a privileged elite that formed most of the school body; why are they different, how are the elite kids here, why are witches accepted and integrated into the student body? Solve the problem; look at the economy, the politics. Where are these rich kids getting their magic? Why pull in witches? One question answers the other. Why didn't Kayden and Kylie know that curses were spells in advance? Seems something that should be common knowledge. Look at the politics; tie that in. Logical conclusion: magic trap. We have this magic lake with a monster in it that we introduced super early for dramatic purposes and haven't explained yet. What can we do with that? Let's invent empowered water. Let's look at what that means for the creation of potions worldwide. Let's tie in the management of unmanageable spells. Let's elaborate on the structure our magic trap.

Now we have a channel of power. Curses parasitise witches; some are blessings, some are more trouble than they're worth. The school collects curses, domesticates them, makes them more useful, locks away or renders harmless that which it cannot make use of. More curses are collected over time, the school grows and grows and Refujeyo becomes stronger and stronger as they control more of the world's magic supply, but every system has a capacity. What's the effect of this infinite growth? Here we have a clear and unavoidable economic metaphor, so obvious that not centreing the story on this concept would basically be dishonest. Who's managing this collection, what does it say about the power of the school within mage society? How would such a school relate to the rest of Refujeyo; how would Refujeyo, collecting power like this, relate to and be viewed by other magical traditions, and by nonmagical society? Run through the reasoning, solve the problem.

Why would the school only approach Kayden as a teenager, after his curse caused problems? Surely the school would want to collect as many curses as if could as early as possible. There has to be a reason why they waited. This is a good one because it flows directly from the complex political relationships between Refujeyo and commonfolk politics that have to exist, AND ties neatly into critical character motivations that have to exist for book 1's main twist to function (notably, Malas Aksoy's actions). Sort this out for book 1 and accidentally create a critical political point for the rest of the entire series.

I started writing book 1 with the idea of the court case and subsequent twist about Kayden's curse being the big mystery, but Kayden still needs something to actually do at school. We have this mage who we threw in to rescue Kayden and Kylie from the lake, and had Max hero worship her for flavour; she seems to be becoming central to a lot of interactions for some reason. A lot of dramatic stuff is therefore automatically happening in her presence, but why is this incredibly accomplished and intelligent mage fucking up so much? We've established her as careful and thorough. We need a reason for all these accidents beyond random chance. Someone's sabotaging her -- why? Let's look at our established characters and figure out who has means and motive, and who the most fun red herrings would be.

How could a place like Refujeyo, such a complex and time-consuming project that would have to involve the cooperation of so very many mages, even get built? How would it survive long enough to be powerful? When and where did this happen? We've already established the Purity Revolution; maybe there was something more coordinated than just random undirected economic forces. We've established some incredibly powerful mage families and the old system of apprenticeship and inheritance; we know that the most powerful family in Refujeyo used to have a prophecy and owned a very powerful place that helps prophecies specifically. They could coordinate something, given enough motivation and the help of enough other powerful mages. What kind of motivation? Let's go back to the Purity Revolution. If tech develops alongside magic without central oversight of some kind, what could magic enhance? What problems could be foreseen that would make this kind of investment worth it? How does Refujeyo save the world?

Tie this into our power channel. Refujeyo's attempt to save the world endangers the world due to infinite growth and power being passively collected by those who benefit from the dangerous status quo. It fits our economy metaphor, because they're essentially the same thing, just putting in magic instead of money as a means of power.

Find a problem, then solve it.

The important thing with this method is to keep your solutions cohesive. If you come up with a new different reason for every thing, your plot will look scattered and disorganised. We don't want to look like we're just pulling the story out of our arse. I mean, we are pulling the story out of our arse, that's what writing fiction is, but it's a big part of our job to help our audience suspend their disbelief on that. Whenever possible, you should look for answers that solve multiple things and weave disparate parts of the story together; this is especially true when they relate to the core plot or central theme of your story.

Also, leave gaps for reader inference. You don't have to answer every single question, you just need to make sure that some plausible answer exists for every single question. Sometimes this involves saying less, not more, and letting the audience figure it out.

[appocalipse]

hello ♥ i'd like to request faded photograph + antique lock and key set with steve. maybe after what happened in s4 with steve and nancy and all that r decides to leave hawkins because she's sure he still loves nancy and she wants to move on? and if you want it could have a happy ending with one of those super cute love confessions ♥♥♥

ahhhh this is so steve! ♥ (also this is my version where eddie and max are alive and fine and hawkins is safe again)

visit amy's flea market ♥

"I need to tell you something."

Steve is not sure he likes the tone of your voice. It's somber, serious. His gut clenches, and for a brief moment, he scares himself with the thought that something might be wrong with you, something he might not be able to help with. 

And it's raining outside, for God's sake. It's never good news on a rainy day like this, is it?

"Everything... everything is fine?"

"Yeah. Yes, everything is...fine." 

You smile, but Steve notices it doesn't quite reach your eyes.

You look at him as if the words are stuck in your throat, as if they're heavy and you desperately want to get rid of them. 

Finally, you clear your throat. 

"I'm leaving."

Steve feels as if the wind has been knocked out of him. "What?"

"I'm leaving. Hawkins, I mean. Tomorrow."

You shrug, as if you're not sure what else to do with your arms, and then you turn around and Steve can't even attempt to read your expressions anymore. 

He knows you've been thinking about college and your future, but he thought... well, he thought you'd stay. You'd told him months ago that you were actually planning to stay. And now...

Steve clears his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. And because he's sure this can't be happening, he double-checks, "For...for good?"

"Yeah. For good."

The silence between you feels like a living thing, thick and suffocating. Steve can feel the weight of it pressing down on him, making it hard to breathe. He wants to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. He's not sure if he's in shock or if he's just too stunned to form words.

"Why?" The question finally escapes him. "Why are you leaving?"

You turn back to him, and for a moment, Steve thinks he sees a glimmer of something in your eyes. Is it... sadness? Regret?

"I...I'm not sure, I guess," you say. "Just...why not?"

The words sound pathetic even to your own ears, but you can't help it. It's not like you don't love this place, this town, your friends... Steve. You do. You love it all.

Too much.

And it's different now. Hawkins is safe. The kids are safe. You're out of excuses to stay and get your heart broken a little further. It feels like it's time to move on, to leave behind the shadow of the Upside Down, to stop waiting for something to happen.

But Steve looks at you like you're making the biggest mistake of your life, and then he says the last words you'd expect him to say right now. "You want to leave and you don't even know why?"

It's not anger in his voice, but it's close. It's desperation and fear and a kind of raw pain that you'd expect to see in the eyes of someone who's just been told they have a terminal illness or something.

"I just..." you stammer, feeling the weight of his gaze pressing down on you. "I have to."

Steve shakes his head, looking as if he's trying to will you to stay. "You don't have to."

"Yes I do! In a way that you don't understand."

"Then explain it to me!"

You're angry now, and a little hurt. All of your other friends supported your decision; Eddie, the kids. Nancy. And out of all of them, Steve is your best friend. Shouldn't he understand most of all?

"It's not that easy! You don't understand what it's like here! I can't...I can't just stay!"

Steve takes a step back, clearly hurt. "What do you mean I don't understand?"

"I mean..." You trail off, feeling helpless. 

What are you supposed to do? Tell him how you are such a coward you cannot stand to see him and Nancy find their way back to each other? 

"...doesn't matter," you murmur. "Doesn't matter. You'll be fine, okay? You have... everyone."

The words taste bitter in your mouth, and you can tell they're not sitting well with Steve. He looks at you like you've just slapped him, and you feel a pang of guilt. But what else can you do? You can't tell him the truth. You can't tell him that you're leaving because you're terrified of never getting over your stupid feelings for him, of watching him and Nancy falling in love with each other all over again.

You can't tell him that every time you think about it, you feel like you're drowning.

"Look," you say, forcing a smile, "it's not like I'm never coming back or anything. I'll...I'll visit. And...and I'll...call."

Steve doesn't return your smile. He just looks at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, as if he's trying to find something. Something that you've been keeping hidden. And then he shakes his head, and a small, sad smile finally tugs at the corner of his lips.

"You know what?" he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe...maybe I should come with you."

You look at him, stunned. You hadn't even considered the possibility. Steve...leaving Hawkins? With you? It's a strange, surreal thought, and...no. Absolutely not. 

That would totally ruin your plan. 

"What?"

"Yeah," Steve says, surprising you again. "I mean...why not? It's not like I've got anything keeping me here. And maybe...maybe it'd be good for me to get away. You know? See something new, do something different."

He looks at you, hope in his eyes. And for a moment, you almost consider it. Almost. Because it's so much easier saying yes to Steve than saying no. You could be together, away from all the memories and the reminders of everything you've been through...but you'd still be just friends. 

He'd be with you everyday, and that's the last thing you need. 

You can't stand the thought of watching him find someone else, fall in love, and live happily ever after. Of course, you want him to have all of those things; you just don't want to watch.

Steve seems to sense your hesitation, his hope fading. 

"You don't want me in your life," it's not a question. 

You panic.

"No! I mean...I do, I..." You can feel the words tumbling out of you before you even realize what you're saying. "You just..."

"Is that why you want me to stay here? Just so you don't have to deal with me anymore?"

"No!" You shake your head violently. "Of course not! That's not it at all!"

But the words feel hollow, even to you. Because in some twisted, secret part of your mind, that's exactly how you feel. You want him to stay here, where it's safe, where he can't get close to you, where he can't hurt you. You know it's selfish, but you can't help it.

Steve's expression softens, and he takes a step closer. "Be honest with me."

You make an effort not to move.

"I'm sorry," you manage to say, your voice barely audible. "I don't want you to come with me, but it's not because...I just...I don't think it's a good idea. It'd be better for you to stay here, where you belong. You deserve...you deserve to be happy. Your life is here, your job...she is here."

"She?"

"Nance."

Steve's face twists into a bitter grimace. "What does Nancy have to do with anything?"

"I just mean...well, c'mon, she was your first love, and you still love her, it's clear, a-and now she's single again-"

"Wait, wait, wait, hold on a second here," Steve says, his voice suddenly raised. "Nancy? You think I'm still in love with Nancy? You're kidding, right?"

You blink, surprised by the vehemence in his tone. But Steve has always been…protective of his feelings, refusing to really understand them. You had seen how he and Nance looked at each other when no one was around, how he would light up whenever she was near...even when you were in the Upside Down, fighting for your lives, Steve's eyes would sometimes drift towards Nancy, his expression softening. 

It's obvious to you.

"Forget it," you say. "It's none of my business, I just...I want you to be happy."

"I am happy," Steve says, his voice low. "I'm happy with you here."

It feels like the air has been sucked out of the room. You want to say something, to apologize or explain or reassure...but you can't find the words, and with the way Steve is looking at you now, you're not even sure what it is you want to say anymore.

"Steve," you murmur in a small, quiet voice, your heart feeling like it's tearing in two.

He takes another step closer, and you feel your heart start to race. He cups your face in his hands, his touch gentle but firm, and leans in until his breath is warm against your lips. "Don't go anywhere," he asks.

Right this moment, you're not entirely sure you'd be able to if you tried.

Your feelings are confused enough. Being this close doesn't help. 

"Steve," his name rolling off your tongue is somewhere between a plea and a warning as you look up into his eyes, chest heaving. You tell yourself you want to pull away, that you simply can't find the strength.

"You really think that?" he whispers. "You really think I'm still in love with her?"

His hands are still cupping your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as his lips part, and he slowly leans in, closer, until his nose is almost touching yours. 

You fist your hands in the fabric of his shirt, trying to will yourself not to give in to this, to not feel this way, to not want this. "Please don't," you manage to choke out. "Don't do this."

His lips brush against yours, soft and hesitant. "Don't do what?" he whispers against your mouth. "Don't love you?"

"Steve." Desperation. Feels like the world is spinning out of control.

He pulls back, eyes searching yours. "What do you want me to do?"

Your throat feels tight. "Don't do this," you manage to whisper. "Don't choose me because you think I'm a consolation prize."

He frowns, confusion flitting across his features. "What are you talking about?"

You swallow hard, feeling the tears burning at the back of your eyes. "I don't want you to do this just because you don't want me to leave, or because you're lonely, or-"

Steve cuts you off with a gentle shake of his head. "I know that's not true, and you know that's not true," he says, his voice soft. "But if it's what you need to hear..." 

He kisses you properly this time.

It's the kind of kiss that makes your toes curl, your heart skip a beat, and your stomach flip-flop. It's the kind of kiss that leaves you breathless, and a little dizzy, and more than a little bit in love.  It's the kind of kiss that tells you, without a single word being spoken, that you are wanted, and cherished, and loved.

"Do you feel like a consolation prize when I do this?" he whispers against your lips. And he kisses you again, slowly, his weight pressing you against the wall. You feel the warmth of his body against yours, the hardness of his muscles beneath your fingertips. "Or when I do this?"

He trails his lips down your neck, leaving a trail of tiny kisses behind. You sigh, arching into him, and he chuckles softly. 

"Steve..."

"Or this?"

He pulls back slightly, cupping your face with his hands, looking into your eyes as he trails his thumbs across your cheekbones. The softness of his touch catches you off guard. His gaze is intense, searching, and you feel like maybe he can see something there that no one else ever could. 

"Do you really feel like a consolation prize?" Steve gently brushes his nose against yours. He smiles. "Because if you do..." He leans in, lips parting just enough for his breath to tease across your skin. "...I'll prove you wrong."

"Actually," you smile, feeling the warmth spread from your chest up to your cheeks. You wrap your arms around his neck. "I think I might need some more... convincing."

Steve grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Well, then." He leans in, pressing his lips against yours in a soft, gentle kiss. "I guess that's what I'll have to do."

[mamawasatesttube]

ok i put a longer post abt tim's Emotional State in drafts for when my brain is less melted but re: tim and going to college im just gonna get a lil silly with it. hear me out.

i have this whole vague story in my mind for tim's college days moonlighting as red robin as he tries and figures out what he wants out of life. (it's a while after rr leaves off and all because he's like. Super Depressed for a hot minute and then has to drag himself through actually bothering to get his GED and applying to college, etc., but eventually lucius is like hey. you're great with gadgets, and you clearly love tinkering. i'd hire you for r&d in a heartbeat but you need at the least a bachelor's of engineering. i know you have a lot of the technical skills, but you need a degree. so tim goes ugh fine i'll get a goddamn engineering degree how hard can it possibly be.)

anyways. i think it's a universal experience that if you go to college and you hang with the STEM crowd, you will unfortunately get to know at least one Fucking Guy. it's like brentwood arc; tim does make friends, but there is just this One Fucking Guy he cannot stand and will never stand. this Fucking Guy is in the common room playing his guitar at midnight. he's drunk and yelling and laughing really loud when people have exams coming up. he's convinced everyone adores him. there's also a detective/supernatural plot going on. the subplot is just that tim hates This Fucking Guy.

at some point, there's a story beat where he as red robin has to rescue That Fucking Guy from a real dicey situation, and That Fucking Guy is really shaken and grateful to him, and he's like okay. maybe. maybe we are making progress. but then the next time he encounters This Fucking Guy as tim drake, the guy is just like. "ohhhh hey drake you missed it last night, it was AWESOME!!! i had to save red robin from a KILLER ROBOT. he's pretty cool though i guess. i bet you wish you could be more like him huh??" and tim is just. I Will Not Grind My Teeth About This. I Will Not. his life is a fucking joke. he dismantles the toaster oven in the common room kitchen to cope. it's definitely to cope and not just so that That Fucking Guy won't be able to heat up his pop tarts in the morning.

at another point, This Fucking Guy looks at street mode, lowkey, unremarkable Normal Car-looking redbird and goes, aw, dude, i thought your dad is loaded?? he only got you a generic-ass sedan?? that sucks lol, if you want we can take my car down to the game instead. and tim is just Say One More Fucking Word About My Baby I Dare You I Fucking Dare You One More Fucking Word.

(also i like to toy with the idea of this being a university in metropolis - he's out of gotham, but not too far. keeps him from getting antsy about what if he's needed because he can get right back over there. and in the meantime, he can hang out with kon and kara a lot, and occasionally enable and be enabled by lois lane and her snooping habits. there's another subplot in which tim and lois get up to shenanigans. at least once.)

it's sort of an introspective thing of him trying to come to terms with the way he no longer wants a fully normal life the way he always used to assume he would - he has the option to walk away from the cape now, like he always thought he would one day, but he just can't give it up anymore. he's fallen into the same black hole he watched dick and bruce dive headlong into. it's also about him finding joy in tinkering and working with his hands and getting to spend more time as tim drake first and foremost. and it's about him venting to kon about That Fucking Guy while they have a lil picnic on the green while kon loses his absolute shit laughing. all against the backdrop of a little mystery or something. <3

OH and also, most importantly. zoanne wilkins is there and laughing at him for assuming college would be easy. and kon gets her into wendy the werewolf stalker. My City Now.

[o-sachi]

Fell First & Fell Harder Pt. 2 - Blue Lock Chars.

you fell first, but they definitely fell harder

characters; oliver aiku, bachira meguru, gagamaru gin, shidou ryusei

tags; fluff, gn reader, no y/n

Oliver Aiku

"It's just you. I promise. No one else is in the picture."

He was faithful... to an extent. The most that he did, after all, was be too friendly with others—which could be mistaken for flirting. But all you could do was sit there and hope that he'd stop it soon.

Although, at some point you reach your breaking point. You bring it up again and it blows up into a huge fight. The conclusion was to have an indefinite break from each other.

In that time you were away from each other, he realizes how big of a fumble that was on his part. Now was the time he'd start missing you SO MUCH. It was so bad that he couldn't think of anyone else but you and he didn't even have the energy to entertain people that weren't you.

One day you two get to talking again and it leads to a mini reconciliation. He promises with his life that he'd take you more seriously and that you'd be the one and only person his attention would be on.

Bachira Meguru

"You're the cure to my boring life."

You quickly realize that he's not the type to be super serious about someone early on. He's not too experienced with dating, so he's complacent in the simple fact that you like him and he likes you.

Nevertheless, you love to indulge him with his whims. You were determined to be his ride-or-die and it showed. You supported him through every step he took, offering gentle pieces of advice every once in a while to keep him grounded.

There were rare occurrences when he'd be self-aware. He'd realize that sometimes he was going too fast without taking into consideration the feelings of other people. Then, he'd be hyper aware of what you felt towards him and your relationship.

Your impact in his life becomes more apparent in these moments. Bachira eventually begins to consider you more in his life—integrating you in everything that he does. In due course, football wasn't just an outlet for him, but also a way to make you proud of him.

Gagamaru Gin

"Love? Huh... I guess that's the word to describe it."

The falling harder part certainly took a while to happen. Similar to Bachira, Gagamaru doesn't have much experience in the world of dating. The idea never intrigued him, so he figured there was no point in entertaining it. But your persistent ass came along.

This would certainly be a first love type of scenario. The newfound feelings and experiences you had to offer him overwhelmed Gagamaru in a good way.

He had nothing else to compare this to; he believes your love is the one of the greatest things in his life (close competition with grilled meat).

Cannot get enough of you now. It's like a drug to him—addicting and it consumes it. Before you know it, he's absolutely worshipping the shit of you—doing everything in his power to make you the happiest human alive.

Shidou Ryusei

"You make it throb... my heart, I mean."

His previous relationships were also short-lived primarily because he was too intense (freaky) for his partners to handle. It was set in stone: starting now, he would never settle for anyone who cannot match his enthusiasm (freak).

Out of all of them, he's probably the one that falls harder the fastest. But it's no easy feat to achieve. You really need to capture his attention—make him fascinated by your very existence. Do those simple things and he's yours in a flash.

But here's the surprise—with him, there's another layer to it. Sure, he could be deeply interested in you. But can he be serious with you? Can he honestly say that he's committed to you? Those are important questions that pop up once you've been together for a while.

You only know that he's 100% serious about you when he can finally sit down and talk to you, heart-to-heart. His vulnerability is something that he would only show to the most special of special people in his life. That happens to be you.

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms

[spideyhexx]

oct. 7th - scaredy cat

William H. Bonney x BountyHunter!Female!Reader

mdni! wc; 3.3k cw; gunplay, threats of death, dom-ish reader, dub-con-ish, thighriding, grinding, mentions of piss

kinktober 2024 masterlist

a/n; was worried about this one because i was having trouble writing it, but i think i like how it turned out soooo!!!! hope you all enjoy!!!!

The smoothness of the cards touch at your skin as you move your thumb across, eyes bouncing from the cards, then back up to the man in front of you. 

The bar is rustling with life, but the noises drown out the longer you focus on the man’s blue eyes. They sear into you, subtly trying to beg for an inch, to find what it is you’re thinking or take an educated guess at what cards you hold behind your hands. 

His lips are in neutral territory. No faint smile, but no tension, though his thumb taps to his cards every other second. You count it. One. No tap. Two. Tap. One. No tap. Two. Tap. 

There are two other men in the game, a gentleman to your left that’s clearly off his rocker, and a gentleman to your right, who has the worst poker face known to life itself. Your focus is on the blue-eyed man though. Actual competition. 

The drunken man folds his cards, giving up more because he cannot even think straight. He barely walks straight to the bar just ahead. The man across from you tilts his head, his slightly messy hair catching your attention for only the moment he’s looking away at the drunk man. The cocky one places another bet. You raise your bet. And the blue-eyed man taps his thumb twice in a row this time, before raising his bet. 

The cocky guy scoffs a bit, but your expression remains unmoving. In fact, you lean back in the rickety wooden chair, like this is just some easy day for you. The guy folds his cards and you resist the urge to smirk, your eyes gluing themselves back to the young man in front of you. 

You make your bet, then lean back against, the only movement you give him is a slight cock of your head. The man tries to school his expression, but you see the slight quirk in the corner of his mouth as he looks at his cards, thinking. Or pretending to think. Most likely the latter. Either way, you study him more than you were before.

His dark blue shirt is dirtied, no doubt. Probably hasn’t been washed in days. Weeks, maybe. His knuckles are redder than they should be, but there is no bruising. You can deduce he was hitting something though. Or someone. There is a cut on his lip though. A cut in the process of healing. His hair, messy like you noticed before, seems more windswept or hat hair, than anything else. The slight curls near his ears curl around the curve of it, and his eyes, well, they return to boring into your soul. 

He hasn’t said much of anything since he sat down. A small hello to the other players. A lingering glance at you. He called you ma’am. It’s not that women didn’t play poker, but it was certainly rarer, especially out here in a middle of nowhere town with maybe three entire buildings and the rest expansive farmland. 

The man thinks for a few more moments and you have played enough poker to know he’s purposely building up the tension, wondering if you’ll push through any cracks to give him an inkling on your hand. He’s baiting you, but you know better. 

He shows his cards and leans on his arms on the table, a silent challenge, because he would be winning right now with that hand. 

If only you didn’t have a straight flush. 

The man gives a huff, but a small smile graces his lips. They’re so red, and you catch yourself watching the way his tongue quickly runs over them as he stands from his chair. He grabs his hat, black in color, and sits it perfectly atop his head, pushing it down a moment, before sticking his hand out. 

“Well done,” he says, his voice smooth with the slightest hint of a twang. You shake his hand once, then move to gather your winnings into the small satchel at your side. 

“You’re good. It was a good game,” he speaks again, adjusting his hat, though you know he has no need to do so. A nervous twitch, maybe, but you’ve already gathered he’s a fidgety guy. 

“I know,” you respond, offering half of a grin. His hands drop to his gun belt, shifting one of his legs like he wants your attention to drop to that area. 

His fingers drum on his belt, a grin still stuck to his face, but he just nods, and shrugs on a maroon jacket, then saunters out to the bar exit, while you turn towards the bar itself. 

Once you hear his boots leave the establishment, you count to thirty in your head. You’re lenient. Your hand snakes down to the gun in your holster, your thumb tracing the handle. It soothes it. Prepares it for the potential action afoot, something you always had to do before a job. 

When your mental count hits thirty, you stand, and walk out of the bar. The setting sun still shines bright and hits your vision at first. You shield your eyes, clocking the man’s horse still tied up here. 

You walk past the few buildings in this settlement, then veer off toward the woods. The grass of the field swishes against you as you stride slow, careful of your steps as you look around. 

As you approach the small thicket of trees, you catch that maroon color. 

His back is to you, standing near a tree, so you slowly stalk over, pulling your gun from your holster with ease. 

You make no noise, approaching your prey with a staunch air. Your heart is beating. A rapt hitting against your chest, but it’s not nerves, it’s excitement. As you get closer, you realize he’s urinating against the tree, but it does little to hinder you. It only excites you more. 

He whistles softly to himself, a tune you cannot place, and it almost distracts you from the task at hand. You roll your shoulders back to snap yourself out of it, then close the distance, quickly coming up on him from behind. 

The man startles and makes a quick move to grab his gun, but the barrel of yours digs into the side of his neck before he can reach it. You press your chest close up on his back, your other hand reaching around the front of him to undo his gun belt. 

His head turns slightly and you watch him recognize who it is. 

Your hand almost grazes his exposed dick, and a droplet of piss leaves him. You snicker, letting the gun belt detach and you toss it to the side,“Continue.”

“What?” He asks, voice more gruff than it was back in the bar. 

“Finish pissing, Mr. Bonney.” 

Billy hesitates, but you nudge the barrel harder against the skin of his neck and he relents, continuing to relieve himself against the tree. 

It’s quiet besides the sound of his stream, until he asks, “Who do you work for?” 

You scoffs. “No one.” He finishes, and goes to tuck himself back in. You watch the movement with a deep intensity, feeling lucky he isn’t looking at your face. 

“People are after you all over this state and the next. And you made your face known in a busy bar?” 

You’re ridiculing him. The tone of your voice shows it, and you get him to turn around, pushing hard at his chest so he’s up against the tree. There’s no question that Billy the Kid, is stronger than you, but he makes no move to fight you. Not yet, at least. 

“Guess I had some faith,” he says, keeping his hands held up. You drag the barrel from his neck to the front of his chest. 

“How long were you followin’ me? No way you just happened to be there…playin’ poker with me,” he questions, eyes narrowing. He’s trying to study you, but you won’t let him do that. 

“You’re gonna come with me.” You step up closer to him, almost chest to chest if it wouldn’t be for your gun against him. His one leg, having been slightly jutted out, makes it perfect to step up closer to him, his knee brushing to your leg, his head tilted to see you. 

Billy’s jaw clenches when you don’t directly answer his question, “Or you’re gonna kill me? Is that it, ma’am?” 

“Do you not believe I would?” You laugh in his face. 

“No offense, ma’am, but you don’t look all that…threatening,” he says and you break your little composure to furrow your brow. Is he trying to anger you? Trying to see how far you’d go? Well if he is, you’ll sure show him. 

“Ah, I see.” With a nod, you quickly push your hands down on his shoulders. The shove is hard enough to send him to his knees on the ground and you cock your gun, putting it right at his head, “Your poster says dead or alive, didya know that?”

“Yeah I do,” Billy clears his throat, his gaze up at you. He still makes no move to do anything. He doesn’t dive for his gun that’s a couple feet away. He doesn’t try to steal your gun. He doesn’t try to shove or push you away. He’s toying and it’s killing you. 

“Darlin’, listen, maybe we could work out-”

He’s cut off by a shot ringing out. You shot right next to him, so close to him, the bullet whizzed past his ear before landing somewhere behind him. The amount of unadulterated power you feel when you see his expression morph into something of genuine fear makes your stomach heat up more than it should. 

“Mr. Bonney, while I appreciate a negotiation, the price for your head is worth more than anything you could possibly give me.” As you cock your gun again, the movement casual, almost nonchalant as though you don’t have the ability to end his life in the manner of a second. 

Billy’s eyes never leave your figure. He looks up at you with a glint of what you can classify as fear, but also interest. You try to ignore that second part. His eyes are widened and wet, but you’re not sure if that’s incoming tears or just how his eyes are. 

“Your nose is bigger than the poster’s detail,” you blurt out. Why? Why the fuck would you say that? At least you didn’t say he looked more handsome than his picture. More rugged. He’s got a boyish charm that you could easily get hooked to if it wasn’t your job to wrangle in outlaws just like him. 

He doesn’t tease, no, Billy still looks frightened. Is that an act? You almost wanna ask him. 

“You have been followin’ me,” he says, more of a statement this time than a question. You give a nod to confirm it for him, because it doesn’t matter. And you’re wasting time, gun to his head and standing here while he’s on his knees. 

“Now, I’m gonna tie you up a bit so you can’t-”

“I’ll give you somethin’. If you let me go,” he interrupts, his eyes still fucking shining like they hold every single truth of the world. He says it with so much conviction, you almost want to indulge him. 

“Yeah? More than the money on your head?” You knock your gun against his head and he winces despite there being no pain from a few small bumps of your gun. 

Billy goes to speak, but in an instant, he decides to grab at your hips, and he tugs you down with him as he sits. On instinct, you squeeze the trigger, but your hand was already dislodged from it’s position, so the shot rings out beside him instead of at his head. It makes his breath quicken, as yours hitches, your body sat against him, his hold tight on your hips. 

His strong thigh is nestled right between your legs and you glare at him, cocking your gun again and holding it to his head, “What the fuck do you think-”

“You’re a very good poker player,” he says, his voice closer to a whisper than the volume he was speaking before. 

Your head cocks, a confused look dawning your face, “I know that.” 

“Are you alone? Do this all…alone?” Billy swallows hard, shifting his thigh ever so slightly and you instinctively shift too. The fabric of your trousers and his separates the two of you enough, but his words ring true, reminding you of the vacancy of touch in your life. Suddenly you hate him even more. 

“That’s none of your business. But I guess there might be a use for you while I drag you back to Lincoln,” you whisper sharply, getting closer to his face than you might have intended to. 

His breath is shaky, “What’s that darlin’?” Billy looks at your lips. You count it. It was three seconds. Three seconds too long and three seconds too short. 

“You can’t charm me.” You don’t believe your words. In fact, you wonder if his stupid eyes are entranced with a curse solely set out to destroy you. They’re urging you to do something. 

To kiss him. To rub on him. To kill him. 

Billy doesn’t speak another word, but he tilts his head ever so slightly against your gun, the tip of his nose brushing to yours. The floodgates open and you surge forward, your usually careful precision breaking as your lips crash to his. The gun stays to his temple like it’s meant to be there. 

Billy kisses you back in a slower manner, like he wants to take his time with it, but fuck that. You push into him, wanting to own his mouth, feel his tongue slip against yours, suck his bottom lip till it’s even redder than his natural color. 

When he lets out the smallest of moans into the kiss, you start the drag of your hips against his meaty thigh, a rampant, erratic motion that has your finger slipping from the trigger. It snaps you out of it for a moment, but you pull back from the kiss, your breath panting as you grind on him. Billy’s hands never stray from your hips, they hold there, and help a very minimal amount. 

His mouth, now parted, his eyes, as deathly as ever. 

Billy goes to say something and you shake your head, “Shut the fuck up,” and without a though, you drag the gun to his cheek, pressing it into him, watching his eyes flutter in fear and arousal. 

If you chanced a look down to his lap, you would see the bulge growing in his trousers, but you can’t look away from his face. 

Your hips never stutter. They’re on a mission, despite the fact you would get more friction if they were off, this is enough. Enough to feel that heat building up inside of you and enough to make you feel something you haven’t felt in so long. 

Billy mumbles, “Oh fuck,” as you shift, so that every time you grind up closer to his body, you’re grazing near his bulge. It’s much less friction for him. He barely gets any, but that small amount makes his eyes glaze. 

Is he under your curse now? Is that what this is?

Your finger almost slips the trigger again and it makes you grunt out in frustration. Your movements are so harsh, you’re surprised you haven’t accidentally shot the gun. Billy’s eyes flicker to the death trap in your hand, and he goes to speak again. 

You pull the barrel from his cheek down to his mouth, the opening grazing his pretty lips. His mouth stays parted, his eyes telling you he too, doesn’t know why he’s got his mouth open. You count to three in your head and his mouth is still open. Your restraint is gone, the grinding of your clothed cunt on his lap prickles at your skin, and you don’t need to think anymore. 

You shove the tip of the gun into his mouth and he fully closes his eyes this time. 

“Good fuckin’ boy,” you grunt, a moan leaving your lips as you sit up more on him, rubbing on him quicker. Your life depended on it. You push the gun deeper into his mouth and grab at his jaw with your other hand, coaxing him to open his mouth a little wider. 

“Y’know, I could kill you right now,” you breathe out, sneering right in his face as a whimper leaves you. You push down a little harder against his thigh, chasing that feeling that’s approaching. 

“I could kill you so fuckin’ easily. The one who killed Billy the Kid…that could be me right now…all cause you…you took her fuckin’ gun in your mouth.”

How could he be so pretty with it? His eyes tear as you push the gun into his mouth enough to make him gag, but all it does is spur your movements on. You grant him som decency to take some of the gun out of his mouth so he won’t choke on it, but you don’t take it out fully, the sight of him with it is doing too much. Why do you love this? You can’t question yourself right now, but you know it’s fucking sick. He looks lewd, swallowing against the barrel, eyes fluttering and chest heaving as you rock yourself on him to completion. 

When it happens, you moan louder, arching against his body, rubbing yourself on him in quick motions so you can feel every part of that orgasm you so deeply needed. 

Then, you squeeze the trigger. 

Click. 

You have to laugh. A breathless laugh. His eyes are wider. Some of the arousal a bit loss, but still lingering there, and you glance down at his lap, a small wet spot forming on the crotch of his trousers. 

“Seriously?” You taunt him and then slowly slide the gun out of his mouth, your eyes stuck to the string of spit coming from him, and the wetness on your barrel. 

It’s in the flash of a moment that Billy is grabbing your wrist, his bigger hand holding excrucaitingyl tight to you as he forces you to drop the gun. He grabs it with his other hand before you could make a move and he throws it. 

He stands, your wrist still tight in his hand, and doesn’t look back as he drags you the couple feet to his gunbelt, where he grabs his gun, cocking it. He lets go of your wrist with a small shove and points it at you. 

You’re stunned for a moment, processing the sequence of events that just occurred, your mind running rampant and your body still jittery from what the two of you just did. You stay leaned back on your hands, at his mercy, “Go ahead then. Kill me, if you must.” There’s no purpose to your voice. You could scramble for your gun but he could shoot you easily. You could run up and tackle him for his gun, but he’d still have the upperhand. 

You fucked up.

His cursed eyes and just him. Is this why he keeps escaping jails and lawmen?

“I said, kill me,” you say it again, and Billy’s arm is still straight out, gun pointed directly at your heart. His chest is still heaving and his mouth wet and red. 

He lets the moment linger, like he had back at the poker table, then he uncocks his gun, settling it in it’s home in his holster. He leans down to fix his belt on himself on then places his hat back on his head. “I don’t kill women, darlin’.” 

With one more look, his blue eyes cast their last spell, but you’re not sure what. Lingering lust? Arrogance? Pity? He backs off, his gait a saunter. Billy full-on turns his back on you, something so confident it makes you gasp. 

You’re not sure how long you lay there in the dirt and grass, running through the entire encounter, but you know one thing’s for sure.

You’re going to capture that motherfucker someday.

[bloop-bl00p]

“Fîls de joie” What Poison could have been.

TW: Mention of Sexual Assault, Sexual Abuse, Rape, Drugs, Addiction, Manipulation, Mention of Fetish and sex in general, mention of Sex works, Raphielle II don’t go harras him and respect his pronouns

I’m trying to be a writer and I understand writing about taboos and controversial things is difficult. I only write about what I know which is the effect of emotional and physical abuse and religious traumas. Notheless if I’m trying to do something out of my domain of expertise I’ll research it to respect the concerned part of the audience.

Vivienne Medrano said that people who’ve been sexually abused helped write episode 4. Part of me wants to believe it, it’s most likely true, it’s the best thing a writer can do, let knowledgeable people help and not just rely on sites about psychology. But, with how rape and assault are presented sometimes it really feels like she’s lying.

Angel Dust is the only character whose abuse is presented as serious.

Stolas kept belittling Bliztø and kept talking dirty even when the Man was in danger

You cannot tell me that he couldn't hear the gunshot through the phone, in this scene, he keeps making his disgusting speech. Blitzø was practically forced to make the deal as he wasn't in a situation where he could process his thoughts clearly since he was trying to survive

And it was a joke.

Angels Dusk kept harassing Husk throughout the series but he never once apologized. Yes, it stopped after Looser Baby but he should have a mindful conversation with Husk and genuinely say sorry about his behavior.

“It starts with sowwy🥺” What’s the point of having this song if the characters don’t follow through with the lesson?

Those scenes were mostly jokes.

And I haven’t mentioned Sir Pentious getting dragged while being drunk in a sex room, or Moxie being kissed by Succubus despite mentioning he didn't want any of that.

AAaaAaaaAh look at these men, being uncomfortable because they are touched and talked down despite verbally addressing their discomfort! That hilarious!

I want to believe she cares, I’m a fan of these shows, I know it doesn't look like it but I’ve been hooked since the Pilots. Not only was I disappointed at the final result but I was also shocked to learn Medrano is simply just an asshole with too much money in her bag.

Poison failed where Fîls de Joie succeeded:

Before reading any of what I wrote you should listen to it, there are English subtitles. And honestly, it's a good song on its own.

What’s the context of Fîls de Joie?

A sex worker died and her son is holding funerals for her. You can guess it with the wordplay in the title, Fille de Joie (Girl of Joy) is one of the many ways to say prostitute in French. Fîls (son) de Joie is a way to say that he’s the son of a sex worker.

While sung by the same man, you can notice that Stromae gives us four POVs in the song, the son in the chorus, a client, the pimp, and a policeman.

Everyone besides the son is a hypocrite and relatively an asshole. But even if those verses are self-centered and a pathetic attempt from these men to bring sympathy to themselves, despite never hearing the story directly from the Woman, you can guess exactly how her life was and you sympathize with her. It tells us a story, her story.

This woman was a good mother, and it shows how much the son insisted on leaving her alone, speaking proudly of her despite acknowledging her flaws, and even repeatedly calling her a hero.

But HEY! (But HEY!) Leave my mom alone Yes I know, she’s not perfect, it’s true She’s a hero (She’s a hero) And I will always speak of her with pride

The client is trying to be excused from his actions by stating he’s lonely and addicted to it.

Being alone is not easy And it’s been years since my last time

The hardest part, well, it’s the first time And now what’s hard is to decide when the last time will be

But he’s also verbally violent even stating that as long as he got the money he could pretty much do everything to her.

Maybe this time around we can do it with me insulting her. Yeah everything is negotiablе in life, if you got the money And after all, I’m probably her best customer

With that alone, you can probably guess that it’s not the only violent client she had but she has to endure it because she needs money. Considering that she has a son it’s probably to support his education or something related to her well-being and his.

Then comes the pimp, he brushed off all of his misdeeds by saying he gives them shelter and food and should be grateful for it.

Why does everyone hate me? I’m the one feeding them Their lives would be way more mediocre. Without me, their lives would be shitty

Not only that but his good actions are not for the sake of it, he should have his part of the deals. He doesn't want them to feel like princesses eventually calling them hookers in a very dehumanizing way.

That has a price, Missy. Well duh, in this life, everything comes at a price. Nobody ever told you? They say I’m guilty of human trafficking But 50, 40, 30 or 20% is not nothing

They better not delude themselves and think they’re models Ladies—or should I say: hookers!

Not only does this woman have to endure constant violent behavior from her clients she barely gets enough money despite being the one at work, receiving either 50% or even 20% of what she actually gained. The rest goes to an egocentric pimp that only sees her as merchandise.

While we can technically understand where the policeman is coming from, he’s just doing his job, he’s making a mistake apparent in the other’s verse but much more evident in his.

He doesn't see her as a human.

I know that it’s your job But I gotta do mine, don’t I?

Take back your ID and what’s left of your dignity You’re pathetic, pfft Find yourself a real job!

This song doesn't tell us the story of a prostitute but the story of a financially struggling Mother who juggles between abusing clients and a society that only focuses on the top of the iceberg, the fact that she’s selling her body.

Stromae tries to appeal to our compassion and teach us that it’s important to understand why someone will go their way to sell sex for a few pennies. And rather than rejecting them, we should help them.

Another thing I like about the clip as a whole is the Military. They don’t have a Belgian or French uniform but they wear multiple of them to show that this dehumanization isn’t linked to one country but it’s global, every countries and cultures take part in it, and it needs to be fixed.

What does Poison tell us?

Angel got stuck in an abusive situation and was forced to do sex work for his pimps, it focuses more on the sexual assault rather than his life.

He obliviously regrets his choice resulting in him blaming himself for getting into such a messy situation. A situation he’s seemingly addicted to despite himself, he knows it’s bad but he can’t help it.

What's the worst part of this hell? I can only blame myself

You're feedin' me poison Addicted to this feelin', I can't help but swallow. Up your poison

The poison can also be a metaphor for the drugs he seems to take directly from Valentino’s brand. A drug he either takes himself or is forced to inhale.

He uses the same substance to forget his situation and numbs the pain while also putting on a false Sex-addicted mask to convey that he’s fine and stay on Valentino’s good side. A direct consequence of his abuse is his addiction and his hypersexuality.

I got so good at bein' untrue I got so good at tellin' you what you wanna hear I disassociate, disappear

At the end of the song he’s waisted, traumatized, and finally breaks down as he finally has a short time to process everything that happened. Because here’s the thing, Poison is a fantasy, it’s a mask he puts in to forget the emotional and physical weight that was put on him, hence why it’s so flashy and pretty. The few glimpses of Angel being visibly distraught show that all the parts where he isn't are him disassociating.

See I can analyze stuff and I totally understand what they were trying to do with it but the difference with Fîls de Joie is, that we didn't know the life or personality of The Mother and we learn it through the song.

Angel Dust and Valentino’s relationship is highlighted throughout the shows and Poison doesn't add anything new to the table. The song is POINTLESS. Husk already looked at us and told us that Angel Dust being sexual was a whole persona he puts in.

You can say that the song humanized him since he was basically the “AaahaAH SEX” character but the locker scene already did and… I don’t like the story behind the making of it, why you ask?

Because Vivienne let Raphielle’s work affect her writing.

Visually speaking I believe you can present a disturbing concept with equally disturbing imagery, I understand that the point was to make you uncomfortable and the Dance sequence was Angel Dust disassociating while what was happening was displayed on the screen.

But… can someone explain why they let the work of someone blatantly fetishizing Angel and Valentino's relationship leak into the final product? I don’t even care that Raphielle or Vivienne have a nonconsensual fetish but we can all agree that his content depicting the two men will be inrentently for gooning purposes right? Or am I crazy for saying that?!

Okay, I wanna be clear, Raphielle can do everything he wants what I care about is that his fetishistic content was referenced in the shows.

→ Here’s one of his works. Go at 2:45 if you wanna skip the sexual stuff

→ Click here for more proof

The idea of Angels Dust being “sexy” while his image is projected on screens is from Raphielle II, his work is for sexual gratification but Medrano still referenced it despite Raph being pretty vocal about it.

And that’s not all.

Yes, Vivienne, it’s great marketing to make a cum joke about visuals displaying rape. Because in case y’all forgot all of the sex scenes in the clip are non-consensual from Angel Dust's perspective.

Am I supposed to believe that this woman cares when not only she has a double standard only showing rape and sexual assault as a whole in a bad way when it comes to her favorite character?

Am I supposed to believe that she cares when she associates herself with a fetishizer and references his work in her show?

Why did Stromae managed to make me care about an unnamed fictional dead woman in the spam of 3:57 when she just irked me in 20 minutes with her so-called “well done” representation of sex workers?

Is that really what people call a realistic presentation? How does someone manage to fumble so hard on every aspect of the series, I’m starting to believe that Hazbin Hotel is just rage-bait with the lack of respect she puts into it.

That’s all for me if anyone wants to add anything, the comments are there.

[victorgrwrites]

Gortash Age/Timeline

For my prelude, see live footage of me at work below. (PS: Mac on the right there is basically my wife, she was very kind to let me ramble about this.)

Here we go. And I think it goes without saying, but spoilers ahead.

So, we have a better idea of Durge's timeline than Gortash, which is helpful since we know that they knew one another before the events of the game. On top of that, we know what each was doing when the other was doing something else. At least, to a point.

We'll start with Durge.

Exhibit A: We know that Sceleritas Fel appeared to Durge on their "age of majority", which is generally accepted to be 18. Could be 16, but we're going with 18 for the timeline.

---

Exhibit B: We know that in the prequel Blood in Baldur's Gate, the main antagonist is Dark Urge, and Sceleritas himself appears multiple times in the story. We also know for a fact that this happens in 1477, 15 years before BG3.

Therefor, we know that Durge CANNOT BE YOUNGER than 18 in the year 1477, and therefor cannot be younger than 33 in BG3.

It's important to note for later on that at this point in Baldur's Gate in 1477, it is very likely Durge has already started the cult of Bhaal or is on the verge of starting it. --- Like I said, easy as Hell, now on to Gortash. Cause he is definitely trickier; we'll be needing to work backwards for this guy. Exhibit A:

Gortash is intent on making a memoir of his life, and has given us a helpful order of events, if without dates and such.

Exhibit B:

We'll start with the heist at the House of Wonders. If you don't know what the House of Wonders is, imagine a giant museum/research university run by NASA. It's a big fuckin' deal, and holds some insane things.

We don't know everything they stole, but we do know some. 1. A Bhaal torture device and some preserved Bhaalist bodies (unimportant for our conversation), and 2. Schematics which served as the basis for the Steel Watch, as well as the submersible.

((I can't find the specific screenshot for the Steel Watch schematics, but just trust me, it exists.)) We can assume that Karlach was sold right around this time, maybe before, most likely right after. The reason why she was sold around this time is because... ---

Exhibit C:

Karlach is a proto-prototype Steel Watcher, or at least of the infernal engines the Steel Watch use. What Gortash most likely got for Karlach were plans/materials/development for the infernal engines.

So let's recap. We now know that ten years ago Durge and Gortash pulled their heist, traded Karlach, figured out infernal engines, and started production or development on the Steel Watchers. Neither were the chosen of their gods yet, and the Crown of Karsus wasn't even on their radar.

Let's keep going. --- Exhibit D:

The first and second listings in Gortash's memoirs are him founding the Bane cult, and then discovering that there was a Bhaal cult already started. I would posit that Gortash established the Bane cult right around the time of the previously mentioned Blood in Baldur's Gate. At the bare minimum we know that Durge had to have been already active and Sceleritas already trying to guide him. So we can likely say that Gortash established the cult of Bane in 1477. Which means he was not in the House of Hope any longer in 1477.

The Crux of the Issue:

Here is where we get into speculation, and there's several questions we have to answer that don't have a clear answer. 1. How old was Gortash when he was sold off?

2. How old was he when he escaped the House of Hope?

3. How long after that did he establish the Cult of Bane?

I'll give you my answer for these questions, and my reason why.

Given my previous post, you might know that I subscribe to the idea that Gortash had a knack for artifice when he was young. There's no way a devil/warlock would pay even a small amount for a useless kid. So, at what age is a kid "useful" while still being a kid? My guess would be as old as ten, as young as eight.

Based on the conversation with Nubaldin, I would say he was still fairly young when he escaped. The way he talks about Gortash establishes that the jailor remembers Gortash as a 'sniveling little shit' and 'mischievous little blot of a boy'.

I would put him at about sixteen, absolute tops.

3. I believe he would have started the Bane cult very, very soon after leaving the House of Hope because I have a sneaking suspicion that Bane's influence started at the House of Hope. Might be how he escaped in the first place, or maybe he heard about Bane while there. Either way, I don't think he took very long.

In my head, he's probably around 17-19 when he starts the Bane cult. But also, if there's age discrepancies, this is probably where they come in.

---

And there you have it. I don't focus on his in-game model much, because looks can vary so wildly. Especially when there's years of demonic torture, obsessive artifice study, and dead god cults. The game narratively describes him as a young man, so I generally erred on the side of "young" when figuring out this timeline.

If you've got questions, comments, additions, go on and lay them on me.

[jungkook97]

and if you let me;; jjk

pairing: non idol!coworker jungkook x reader

word count: 1.9k

rating: teens & up!

genre: romance & fluff, cheesy confession, jungkook is a nervous guy in luv, also is silly, dorky, sweet, etc. (all the adjectives!)

summary: it was your last day at work and jungkook, who has a big fat crush on you, throws a going away party before you go.

notes: there's hardly any plot lmao it's just a hit of dopamine/feels i guess HAHAHAH :) i love him so much and my feelings are at an all-time high with the new gcf that came out!!

this is for nei (@melancholy-of-nadia)!!! luv u!!

© jungkook97 2023. do not repost or modify. please ask for permission to translate.

Jungkook was annoyed. Very annoyed.

As you howled in laughter at Hoseok’s antics, Jeon Jungkook was in his little corner, crossing his arms and shaking his head. 

It wasn’t that he was jealous. In fact, Jungkook was pretty confident and had somewhat normal self-esteem levels, but he felt like he was running out of time.

Running out of time for what, you ask? Confessing his love to you.

It was an open secret on the office floor that Jungkook had the biggest and loudest crush on you, making it real clear to all the guys in the office that you were the love of his life (on the clock, anyway). He liked people who were great at their jobs, and you were, to say the least, great at it. As your new boss and your guys’ boss fought for dominance to get you as an employee, it was clear that you were irreplaceable in the workplace, and that somehow made you even sexier to Jungkook. 

At first, it was all a physical thing. You were a looker with brains and a dry humor that Jungkook appreciated in a workplace filled with kiss-assers. It was easy to flirt with you, and it seemed like you were 110% flirting back, which, a few months down the road, got Jungkook to freak out. 

Surely, it was one thing to flirt with coworkers nonchalantly and another to deliberately be a boy loser about it. He was down bad at the 3-month mark and found himself counting the days when you would return to your cubicle, which conveniently was next to his. 

Every day, he swung by your desk trying to be smooth, only to trip up somehow. Whether it be the intonation of his voice or him tripping over his own feet, he would kick himself silly mentally before lamenting to his best friend and work confidant, Kim Namjoon at the water cooler hours later. 

“I swear I cannot walk around her!” Jungkook would sigh loudly, swirling his coffee stirrer as Namjoon chuckled, leaning against the counter before patting his coworker on the shoulder. 

“It’s okay, dude. I’m sure she doesn’t even notice it like you do,” Namjoon would reassure him even though he knew you would eventually find out (you would of course, but unaware how deep Jungkook’s love for you was). 

A year would swing by until you finally broke the news to the office that you would be leaving for another job with higher pay, and it felt like Jungkook’s world came crashing down. How could he continue working at this job if you weren’t next to him, giggling at his stupid jokes and his stupid short haircut that he specifically cut to make himself look even hotter for you? How could he possibly get through several rounds of meetings if you two weren’t playing tic-tac-toe on the memo pad the two of you would share? Or the times when Jungkook would go out of his way to the coffee shop to get your usual honey oatmilk latte from Urth Caffé? Or the time Jungkook would time his lunches so he could sit with you for the whole hour? 

And so, Jungkook devised a plan to break the “news” that he was in love with you, hoping that you would feel the same way. He orchestrated the going away party first, going to a KBBQ spot with your closest coworkers before doing karaoke with drinks. Because how else was Jungkook going to relax around you?

Jungkook could feel his heart thumping wildly in his chest as you giggled at his innocent joke about Hoseok’s dance moves as your delicate head leaned against his wide shoulders. His stomach lurched forward as he coughed to cover his nervousness up, pouring yet another glass of soju for the two of you. You gladly took it, clinking the glass against his before taking a swig, and swallowing the alcoholic contents as you clung into Jungkook for the next hour. 

Jungkook was elated of course, but he didn’t wanna give much away, closing his lips together as he thumped his fingers against the table, encouraging your former coworkers to drink more. 

An hour passed and you were blasted, still hollering and hooting for the dancers, Hoseok and Jimin, to continue as karaoke night came at a fever pitch. At this point, you and Jungkook were inseparable, and he has made major moves to the level of your comfort: 1) putting his arm behind you and 2) crossing his legs so he could tap his feet against yours. 

As you hummed quietly to yourself, you shivered at the cold air coming through the AC. Jungkook saw and immediately grabbed his leather jacket, putting it around you. 

You thanked him, leaning against his chest as the two of you cuddled. Jungkook’s heart skipped a beat as he flushed red, again covering his flustered self with a cough. 

“Are you getting sick?” you inquired, looking up at Jungkook with a pout. His eyes twinkled at this point as you cutely and drunkenly put your hand up to his forehead, trying to feel his temperature. It was going up all right, and Jungkook turned even redder than the tomatoes in the ramyeon in front of you two. 

“Uh,” was all Jungkook could say, stuttering his way into a lame excuse. “The ramyeon is a bit too spicy that’s all, haha.”

He did his best to chuckle sexily as you sighed, frowning. 

“Should I have asked for it to be mild?” you inquired, grabbing the menu from the table. “If I had known you didn’t like spice, I would’ve ordered it.”

“Oh no, i-it’s okay!” Jungkook hastily replied, putting the menu down. He was freaking out, and a few of the boys were starting to notice the two of you being rather cozy.

“Man, I have never seen Jungkook look so happy in my entire life,” Taehyung teased, snorting into his beer and pointing at the both of you. 

Jungkook frowned, still beet red. 

“W-what are you talking about?!” he fired back at Taehyung. All the second youngest in the office did was shrugged, smirking. 

“Oh, now you’re playing stupid,” Taehyung drunkenly laughed, leaning against you as he whispered something in your ear. 

Jungkook’s stomach bubbled in nervousness while Taehyung chuckled after saying his piece which made you giggle a bit.

“Yeah, he can be obtuse sometimes,” you replied, glancing back at Jungkook. He flushed again, his stomach in knots. Did you know? Were you playing with him? 

As the night progressed, you began acting more and more wild, making Jungkook laugh uproariously at your behavior. Seeing you loose made him happy and glad that he planned the goodbye party in the first place. He clapped and cheered for you as you attempted badly to sing Whitney Houston’s “I’ll Always Love You”. Even if you were off-key, he still found it endearing that you even attempted. 

Your unabashed confidence was shining through, and something ignited within Jungkook. It was then when he realized how much he liked you and seeing this side of you made him want you even more. The desire to be even closer than you two already were, and the desire to be intimate was growing inside Jungkook’s already big and kind heart, and he wanted to do something more. 

It wasn’t too late when everyone began to go home, leaving the two of you alone. You had Uber’d your way to the noraebang so Jungkook offered naturally to take you home after sobering up. 

As the two of you walked to the car, you instinctively but a bit impulsively wrapped your arm around his. His stomach lurched forward as his heart beat unbelievably fast, making him cough out of nervousness. 

“You okay?” you asked worryingly, slurring a bit of your words. Jungkook was a bit concerned for you as he gripped your arm tighter around his bicep, leaning against you. 

“I am,” he hummed lightly, opening his Mercedes GT door for you before guiding you in. “Are you okay though? You had a lot to drink.”

He strapped you in with the seatbelt as you smiled warmly. At this point, you two were really close to each other, feeling each other’s warm breaths as Jungkook’s big eyes stared into yours. He lamented quietly that you weren’t entirely there, wishing you were entirely sober so he could just kiss you right then and there. Your red warm lips were calling to him, and he wanted to kiss you so fucking bad, but only if you let him. 

God, you’re so beautiful right now, he thought.  

“What?” you laughed softly as he snapped out of it. 

“N-nothing.”

Clearing his throat for the 1529458th time, he pulled away from your warmth and back into the winter air. Sliding his hands together to keep warm, he sprinted to the driver’s side of the car, sliding in before turning the engine on. The hot air swirled through the cabin as he turned the lights on and navigation took you home.

Not much was said during the ride to your house. Surely, he didn’t want to interrupt you slowly dozing off, mumbling to yourself as your hand laid on the center console. Jungkook’s hand was firmly on the shift gear but it achingly wanted to be there as well, holding your hand. He wanted to warm you up so badly, just like how he did it all night with you. 

There must have been real chemistry between you two up until this point, Jungkook thought. There was no way all of this was platonic or you had been leading him on. All the flirty exchanges you two had for the past year started replaying in Jungkook’s mind like a broken video tape, replaying over and over until he couldn’t take it anymore. 

He had to tell you. He had to confess.

-

As the car came to a stop and turned off, he went over to your side to open the door again. You woke up to the brisk cold air hitting your face as you were startled awake. Jungkook’s dark silhouette encapsulated you as you pulled out of the car, only to slip from the ice below and into Jungkook’s arms.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed as he caught you immediately into his embrace. His firm, yet warm body was pressed up against your own as you giggled drunkenly, trying to maintain your balance. “God, I’m just all over you tonight huh, Jeon?”

You could feel his heavy breaths on you as you looked up. He was already staring down at you with a soft smile, his cheeks pink. 

You wondered if he was going to keep hiding it from you. You knew for quite some time that Jungkook liked you a bit too much, and even in your drunken state, you wanted to tell him it was okay to lean in for a kiss. You liked him too, and you wanted him to be yours. 

Under the dim streetlight, he ever so slowly leaned in, closing the gap between you two. His eyes were pensive, thinking a bit too hard on this, but you had already made up your mind.

Kiss me, Jungkook. 

“If you let me,” he whispered right before your lips touched his. 

You pulled him in, kissing him. His eyes closed immediately as he took control, squeezing you tightly as you two softly kissed each other, keeping warm.

Snow was falling lightly on the both of you as your lips slowly made a grin when the two of you parted.  

“Always, Jungkook.”

[nineteenninety-six]

HI EJDBJEBJ pls pls can u do a banda sunato imagine?

where he meets reader at the jack of hearts game and he fell in love at first sight and he was not expecting it because he's a serial killer and there he sees reader (doesnt need to be fem) and like gad damn hi why did i just meet u today. and he swears to like,, protect the reader.

bonus ig is that reader is close to chishiya

I change a few things from the episode but hopefully, it still makes sense lol and Banda is ooc. Also, it's funny seeing the likes go up for my Arisu fic since the second season was released.

I made this gn but if you see any gendered language please tell me so I can correct it!

YN trailed behind Chishiya as they entered the prison where the Jack of Hearts game was being held. After being separated from the rest of the group, the two of them were trying to get back to them whilst entering the face card games.

Well, YN was focused on getting back to the group whilst Chishiya took his sweet time, eagerly seeking out the blimps that flew over Tokyo. 

His eyes lit up when he realised that they were near the Jack of Hearts game, and though he says he was not suited for them, YN believed that Chishiya was intelligent to the point he could adapt to all of the card types, except maybe Spades but he would figure a way out for that too as he did with the Tag game.

If it wasn’t for the fact that their visa was going to expire soon, YN would be sitting outside of the prison waiting for Chishiya to return but unfortunately, the borderlands were cruel so here they were putting their life on the line yet again.

They slipped the collars on as instructed and made their way into the guard room where about ten people were waiting and judging from the table of collars by the entrance, it was going to be a high-number player game.

Chishiya found a shadowed alcove where he could see the entrance and everyone else who was already there. YN took their place next to him and together they waited for the rest of the players to join.

Eventually, the last player joined and the tension and fear in the room amplified as the screen in the room lit up and the automated voice rattled through the speakers and everyone’s attention was directed to it.

“Difficulty, Jack of Hearts.”

“Game, Prison Cell”

┆彡

Banda stepped into the guardroom and set his gaze upon the other players in the guardroom. Some nervously avoided eye contact, others squared their shoulders and made themselves bigger as others hid in the shadows.

Nothing unusual, he noted. After all, they were all forced to participate in these death games but some adapted better than others. Some people thrived and dominated the games whilst others simply rode on their coattails, surviving off the backs of others.

Banda turned his attention back to the screen, listening to the instructions as they were explained. 

“Rules. Guess the suit that appears on the back of your collar. However, you cannot see your own suit. The time limit per round is one hour. Five minutes before the time is up enter one of the prison cells and guess what your own suit is. If you do not guess your suit correctly, the game is over for you. When time runs out, your collar will explode and you will die. In addition, your suit will change at every round.”

People fiddled with their collars, twisting and turning but their design made it impossible.

“But we just need to have someone tell us what it is, right? That'll be easy” A young man excitedly exclaims on the other side of the room, bringing Banda’s attention to him and consequently to YN as they move out of the shadows when the man next to them responds.

“I wouldn't be so sure. They haven't told us how to clear the game.”

Banda pays no attention to the voice as it finishes explaining the rules as he was hooked on the mysterious person on the opposite side of the room. 

He was down bad and they hadn’t even shared a word.

┆彡

YN watched as everyone started to team up but distrust was thick in the air. Reality has settled in, it would be hard to clear this game and most will die as distrust and backstabbing fester.

The young man in what YN thought was quite an adorable set-up of a yellow t-shirt and dungarees, turns to them “Hey, let’s tell each other”

“If you want to survive, you need to observe everyone here very closely. You need to remember everyone who doesn’t lie. Besides, I could be the Jack of Hearts myself…”

YN tunes out Chishiya, their gaze focused on the man who is steadily approaching them from the other side of the room. He was cute, with a sweet smile and broad shoulders.

His eyes are only on YN and as he stops in front of them, it pulls Chishiya from his conversation but he remains silent as he watches on.

“Do you want to partner up?” The man asked eagerly, “We’re stronger in pairs.”

Chishiya makes a noise of amusement which causes the man's eyes to flicker over to him.

“...Unless you’ve already partnered up” The man glared slightly at Chishiya

“No, no… we can all group up.” YN quickly spoke up, trying to diffuse the tension between the two men. Chishiya had the ability to piss anyone and everyone off, including YN several times.

When the man looked back over at YN, they introduced themselves, holding out a hand that the man eagerly shook and introduced himself.

“Banda.” He smiles, “Banda Sunato”

YN returns his smile and twists around, showing him the back of their collar, “Do you mind telling me mine?”

Banda steps closer to look at the collar before gently tugging YN back around to face him. The physical contact was unneeded but YN didn’t mind. In fact, they kind of liked it.

“Club.”

YN tells him and Chishiya’s theirs before they have to go into the cells to call out their suit.

There are no deaths this round and everyone breathes a sigh of relief as they step out of their cells. 

Immediately Banda makes their way over to YN with a smile, not wanting to be separated from them for longer than he has to.

Chishiya watches as they head to the food room, racking his brain, trying to remember where he remembers the name Banda Sunato from. 

┆彡

“You know, I wonder how long this will last”

The words of the man next to Banda catch YN’s attention, so they listen in on their conversation.

“Either the Jack will start killing people, or someone who’s afraid they’ll be killed will start killing others. Until one of those things happens, this will never end.” Banda explains.

“That’s exactly right.” Chishiya jumps in.

“As long as we’re all telling each other, we’ll be fine.” The man in the yellow shirt, Ippei, tries to look on the brighter side of things.

YN gives him a sympathetic smile, “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Their conversation is interrupted by shouting and a young man being shoved to the floor. Everybody turns to watch as a bald man shouts at the frightened younger man to tell him his suit.

YN tries to move forward to help him but is stopped by Chishiya who shakes his head at them, motioning to what Banda was currently doing. 

When YN hears the muffled explosion and thump that echoes through the prison at the end of the round, they realise what Banda had done.

┆彡

Banda watches as YN snacks on a packet of cookies, finding everything they do utterly endearing and adorable.

“You know…” He begins to speak, catching YN’s attention, “I would never betray you. I’ll protect you.”

He takes YN’s hand in his, holding it tightly but their moment is interrupted by the arrival of Chishiya.

“Eyy, for all we know you can be the jack of hearts.”

Banda glares at Chishiya. So does YN. Trust him to stir up shit.

“So could you.”

Chishiya points at YN, “They can vouch for me”

Banda looks over to YN who rolls their eyes and nods, “I’ve had the misfortune of knowing Chishiya since I came to the borderlands. He’s not the Jack. Neither am I, by the way.”

Banda quickly shook his head, “I would have never thought that.”

YN saw Chishiya make a face from the corner of their eye but ignored him.

YN didn’t tell Banda that they knew he kickstarted the series of deaths in this game either.

┆彡

Players were dropping like flies. Backing stabbing and fear had crumbled groups until there were only seven of them left. 

Ippei couldn’t take it, the game had broken him and as YN watched him sob on the floor as Chishiya tried to comfort him, they felt bad for him. They understood how these death games took everything from you and if you manage to survive one, you barely have enough time to recuperate before you’re forced to join another lest you want your visa to run out.

When YN heard the muffled explosion at the end of the hour, they knew Ippei chose death. 

Banda approached YN, seeing how upset they were about Ippei, bringing them into a hug and comforting them.

“He’s at peace now.”

YN nodded and snuggled further into his hold, melting into his warmth. YN had needed that hug desperately, the last one they had was with Kuina at The Beach which felt like a lifetime ago. 

YN took a backseat role for the next round, Chishiya told them their suit and vice versa. Watching as he planned something with Banda and Yaba but did not get involved as they laid a trap for Matsushita, the Jack of Hearts.

After the trap fell in place, YN watched as Yaba dragged Matsushita into an empty cell as Banda made his way over to where they were standing and Chishiya made himself scarce, giving them a moment of privacy.

Banda cups YN’s cheek in his hand, “I think this is where we part but we will meet again. I promise you that.”

YN nodded, placing their hand over the one that rested on their cheek, “We will. I know it.”

Banda gave them a rare smile before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss on YN’s cheek before he let them go and walked back to the cell Yaba was holding Matsushita in.

As YN and Chishiya left the prison, the blimp above it exploded, signalling the Jack of Hearts had been defeated.

YN cast a worried look back at the prison as they walked further away which Chishiya rolled his eyes at when he noticed.

“You know he is a serial killer right?” Chishiya told them still walking away, “ He’ll be fine”

YN did a double take at his words, “A what?”

“Serial killer. Killed four women”

YN gaped at the back of Chishiya’s head before chasing after him, “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

Chishiya looked behind him and picked up his pace at the sight of YN’s mad face gaining ground on him, “I thought you knew! I thought he told you!”

┆彡

One week later, YN sat outside the supreme court waiting for Chishiya as he played the King of Diamonds game when they heard a voice call out to them.

“Waiting for someone?”

YN looked up and couldn’t help the smile that spread on their face, 

“Banda!”

[alienpossession]

Prologue of my own take for this alien story by @apushforfolly

A little bit connected to @fullfriendnerdpurse story because imagine how convenient that he used the guy I planned to use on one of his alien story, and I linked it to my early caption too that you'll find later below. Kudos to @cleanstatevessels for bugging me consistently (LOL) to fulfill my promise

Sander van Broek is a Dutch fitness model and businessman. He's a rather established name in the fitness industry and that caused him to frequently fly all over the globe for fitness expo and bodybuilding meet where he will meet old friends, build new business and personal network or sometimes speak as a panel for his experience. Due to that, Dubai become a very sensible choice of residence for him because it's practically a global hub nowadays, and he's more than lucky to have some people he knows that can show him good places to rent

Sander knew Andrei from a couple years ago as fellow fitness enthusiast. They were cordial at first, but similar type of jokes and life mindset eventually bonded the two men and they've been close friends ever since. Andrei conveniently also worked as a realtor, guess his easy-going personality and charming look proven to be helpful to close deals with the rich and wealthy. Not to mention that he's a polyglot, capable to speak Romanian (his native tongue), Spanish (his girlfriend's native tongue and still part of broader Romance language), French, Russian (language spoken by his boss in the real estate firm), English and Arabic, making him probably a great asset to attract international clientele. All the places he shown were remarkable and located in great spots, but Sander felt the prices to be a bit steep.

"Crazy view, eh? This place gets both of the best sight, and the way this room perfectly captured the sunrise and sunset, perfect righr?"

"Certainly yeah. But again, this is like the 5th place you shown me to be above my budget. I have money, but I don't think I wanna blow it for rent,"

"No worries, price is pretty much negotiable, you know. Let's talk about it while drinking in my office, shall we? We're done looking anyway,"

"How negotiable are we talking about here?"

"You'll be surprised," said Andrei with a smirk, grabbing his Ferrari key and ready to leave the unit with Sander following him closely right behind him

When they arrived in the towering glass skyscraper, Sander cannot help but look upward until his eyes blinded by the sun. Dutch might be the tallest people on Earth, but there's no such tall building in the Netherlands, that's for sure. Andrei tossed his key to the valet and strut to the lobby with confidence in his step, everyone seemed to know him just by looking at him. Well, not like you can ignore a presence like Andrei anyway, he just demanded such attention to every spaces he walked into. As the elevator flies through the floor, he just hummed casually while Sander still marveled at the whole bunch of floors they passed through and how far they are already from the ground within seconds. As the elevator dings at the 66th floor, it opens to a short hallway with lobby in the end of it. The two receptionist greeted Andrei and Sander warmly and as he stepped through the lobby area, the door behind him closed

"That's just the way it is. Don't be afraid hahah,"

"Just surprised on how loud it was, that's all,"

"Okay, you go to the 2nd room after you take left, okay? I'll be there in a sec, gotta talk to boss,"

"Sure thing,"

"Oh, and by the way, what do you want to drink?"

"Anything is fine actually. Just don't get me too drunk, we're still talking about apartment,"

"Okay, as you wished. Just wait for a sec, okay?"

"Sure bro,"

So Sander fidgeted rather awkwardly in the dimly-lit room all by himself, waiting for Andrei to come back. So that's the boss? Piotr something? Sander saw a glimpse of a man with traditional white Arab headdress, the guy is massive and he seemed like a rather stern boss. Is that guy the Russian's counterpart? He's pretty sure he heard Andrei said his boss is Russian, but that one clearly seemed like an Arab and he's pretty sure he read that "Piotr" is the one written in the gold plaque attached to the slightly opened door earlier

---

"Frankie, how's Piotr doing?"

"Still not awake and no response from his body, my Prince. Just very tense and excessively sweating. Probably the slug still trying to wrestle the control over," said the nerd from a hidden office suite right behind the bookshelves within the CEO room

"You see, Andrei? I told you, some of these guys are just not that easy to be taken over. It's beginner's luck that you got someone as massive as him as your vessel," said the Prince from his chair

"Well, clearly Piotr was not easy to be taken over. For starter, he doesn't even understand what the fuck you are saying since he only speaks Russian and here you are prancing as an Arabic prince, and two, I told you I'll take care of him. He trusted Andrei, trust means easier takeover as they won't raise their guard or being too defensive,"

"Show me then. I see you bring a fella earlier. Show me how much "trust" will help you take that guy over. I check his profile, seemed interesting,"

"Pffft, you're underestimating me, Prince Hamid. You see......*take a bottle of wine from one of the small cellar in the CEO room* *take his shorts down* *painted the glass with his black slug* it won't even take more than 5 minutes and he'll be under my control. You'll give that body up to me and the chain of command, including the fate of that dweeb, if I can prove it to you how well my method works," Andrei said as he poured the red wine into the slug-stained glass. The slug camouflaged itself by changing its color and texture to match the wine's depth of color. Mere seconds later and it seemed like it's always been red wine and nothing else ever added there.

"And if you failed?" the prince smirked

"I'll let that nerdy friend of yours used me as he pleased," Andrei hissed while looking at the nerd with disgusted look as the nerd tended to his passed out boss

"Deal. I'm inside a Prince for a reason, young man. I know what I'm doing,"

"Yeah, he's in the middle of a climax when you shot yourself into his asshole. It's not like he can fight you, he's spent. And you got that nerd helping you. Me getting inside of Andrei might be luck, but the rest of those folks you met, the people I takeover, all taken over smoothly because they never thought their own realtor turned out to be something out of this world and all of those process were hella smoother than my first takeover of this stud," Andrei said as he wipes the remnant of the cum-slug in his piss slit with his fingers, give it a delightful lick before putting on his pants back. He then strut to his office to seal the whole deal with his so-called "friend" while the Prince followed him with some distance.

----

"Hey there, sorry. Searched for some of the documents first and talked with the boss about work," said Andrei as he barged into the room where Sander already waited for him

"That's okay, is that for me?" Sander asked, his eyes eyeing the glass of wine Andrei held alongside the bottle and some papers in his other hand

"Oh yeah, for you. Sorry about that," said Andrei, a little bit forgetful about his sole goal as he played Andrei a bit too realistic sometimes while he handed over the wine glass

But instead of directly drinking it, Sander just simply put the glass on the table, which trigger raised eyebrow from Andrei

"You don't want to drink first?"

"Oh no, let's hear first about those units, and maybe if we reached a deal, I'll drink,"

"Ahh....okay *internally cursing Sander*. If that's what you want. So, basically, you can get those units with half of their prices, max,"

"What? Half?! That's so great, how the hell that happened?"

"I told them you're going to be a long-term tenant and with your job, they probably won't have to worry about the payment and all. Just basically convinced them, you know,"

"Are you playing with me right now? Is there something I have to do for them or anything? Half is crazy, bro,"

"No, I'm serious. But yeah, they wanted something. Nothing nefarious or anything, the owner of the last unit just wanted you to help by personally training their son," Andrei said, trying to hide his grin from Sander by turning his back to him and acting busy in his table

"Really? That simple? Huh well, cheers to that then," he said, instantly taking a gulp of the wine in one go due to his excitement

Not even 5 seconds later, the glass dropped to the floor as Sander's body instantly having a massive seizure. His eyes fluttered and mouth foaming like crazy as his body wriggled like a seaweed, flailing here and there purely moved by the spasm of his own body. The Prince steps into the room with his timer recorded 0:25 seconds left. Upon witnessing the state of the man he saw walked earlier, he smirked because there's no way this guy would be back to normal within seconds! But, in a plot twist the Prince didn't see coming, Sander instantly groaned when the timer left 0:08 seconds as he then stabilized and start taking normal, paused breath.

"You thought I'll fail, huh?"

The Prince just seethed in anger. The timer stops at 0:02 seconds, but promise is a promise so a black, oil-like slug gets out from the Prince's ear and then slide off to the floor. It purred upon meeting another slug that came from inside Andrei's body before heading to their respective new vessel. As both men cracked their neck upon the alien entering their brain, Sander murmured

"This guy really didn't see it coming. He simply thought he's going to die or something, that's all what I gathered from his final memory. The burst almost caused his clothes to torn apart by the way, he really likes tight clothing," He said while trying to assess and fix his tight shirt that enveloped his muscular virile form

"Well, the rest of his memories will be accessible to you for the next couple hours so you can lounge around if you want. But yeah, as I said, the owner of the unit wanted you to train their eldest son. Of course the owner is also one of us, but I guess he has that attachment issue to his human vessel or something, some of the team are watching him closely to ensure that he can serve in full capacity or else we will just abandon that old fit man. But in the meantime, I'm the one tasked to ensure we also convert his eldest son. He's based in UK, but he'll move to Dubai in the next few weeks. Since I'm no longer Andrei, you'll do the job alongside Sander, is that clear?" said the alien formerly inside Andrei that now comfortably reside inside the authoritative Prince

Both Sander and Andrei just nodded and said "okay" slowly, one still trying to adjust to a new life with a vessel and the other one still dejected that he just lost a nobility's physique. But not like any of them can say no, they understand that their mission is important to the cause.

"And now, I'm going to leave this premise and contacted HQ for update about our changes. And, let's not try to make my father's suspicious that his youngest Prince went missing for long period of time with no possible info on his whereabouts, don't want to make that old man worried sick. Let's update each other's progress a month from now, hopefully by then you two and Piotr plus the nerd have more progress in branching out, I'm the Prince after all, yall report to me,"

----

"So Mike, how do you like this condo? Your father told us to take good care of it for you. Or you want to look at some spaces to rent on your own?" said Andrei and Sander to the oblivious Mike, not knowing the fate that awaits him.....

[otomes-world]

I wake up with impostor twst idea (belongs to @shiny-jr). I'm not sure if I have to tag you, 'cause it's just a babble(?) but here we go, I guess.

What if we combine it reincarnation manhwa trope? What if character suddenly open his eyes in theoretically past with knowledge of future. Some kind of second chance. Of course in the end it's going to be "a dream", because you know, fo angst purposes and it's too easy way out of everything they did.

He opens eyes after crying himself out last night. Nothing works, you're scared and had closed the path to your heart forever. It's fair and in the same time not. He understands that he has done something irreparable, but isn’t the awareness of his own guilt and the desire to atone for it enough? Deep down he knows that no, you will never forgive him. However, he was always stubborn, probably too much, but he was not going to give up. Not when the sight of you was so close, almost at arm's length.

Imagine his surprise when, on a seemingly ordinary morning, he receives news about Yuu’s shutdown. This can't be true. Or can? Were all the tears shed, all the panic and animal fear of losing you, rage for the imposter who dared to pretend to be you was in vain? Did these feelings never exist? Or is it a second chance, a chance to become worthy, to stand next to you.

If this is so, then he will cling to it with his nails, claws, everything he has - he will not allow it to slip away - and this time he will definitely achieve his happily ever after.

It’s ironic to watch the chaos slowly unfolding from “losing” you a second time. He understands the feelings and emotions of others, but at the same time he cannot contain the feeling of such a close victory. Advantage. After all, he should have been lucky at least once in his life.

He is looking forward to the next shock in the form of the appearance of an impostor. This time he will do everything to a t. No, he's not going to appear right away. He will allow doubts to creep into your soul, wait until your faith in others will shaken. Don’t think, he won’t let even a hair fall from your head, but a little fright won’t hurt, right? For dramatic reunion purposes.

He will allow others to distract Grimm and appear at the most crucial moment, casting a shield for both of you. Your eyes are full of surprise and suspicion, fair enough. He helps you get to your feet, ignoring the shocked gasps and distant cries of 'traitor'. You're most important thing right now and you are too exhausted and scared. He will accompany you to the dorm, help you calm down and hold your hand until you feel better. Along the way, he told how he didn’t believe the rumors and decided to see for himself.

Does this make him a liar? Probably, but does it matter? After all, you no longer look at him with eyes full of disgust and fear, you see in him someone more than a character in the game. A savior and a possible ally, a friend, eventually someone special, but he's not going to rush you.

The feeling of triumph is so close that waking up the next morning almost crushes it with its weight. Surely, he was too naive. Fate just decided to laugh at him, right? However, this imagined future, 'what if', gave him enough motivation to continue. Because now he saw, experienced, what he was striving for.

[redbleedingrose]

I HAVE A VERY IMPORTANT QUESTION (bat boys + Lucien & Eris edition)

What are their sleeping habits? (What do they wear to sleep? what sleeping position do the prefer? Are they heavy or light sleepers etc.) Do they snore?

VERY SERIOUS INQUIRY DESERVES IMMEDIATE ANSWERS!!!!! <33

Rhysand

Okay Rhys prefers to fall asleep in his huge ass bed. Like frl think of like a california king size bed but 5x bigger than that. 

A whole bunch of pillows and blankets everywhere, and he uses at least three

ugh... pampered high lord... hot pampered high lord 

I think he could also fall asleep on the chaise in his office, especially with you on top of him you know?

I think the position he takes truly depends on the day. Sometimes all he wants to do is spoon you because you bring this warmth to him. Sometimes, he wants you to spoon him because he felt the pressure of being high lord all day and wants to feel protected in your arms. 

Sometimes he falls asleep on his belly because he has his wings out, and those nights, he is tugging you to sleep pressed against him with one of his wings wrapped around you in a warm caccoon. The other wing is twitching off the side of the bed 

Under the mountain, this male barely got any sleep and was the lightest sleeper. He would wake up with the crackle of the fire in the hearth.  

I think now though, he is a heavy sleeper, especially when you come into the picture. And he kinda sleeps like a rock, unmoving and without snoring. 

This male could spend hours in bed with his mate and be so fulfilled. He hates waking up and getting out of bed in the morning, it takes him some coaxing on your part 

Some days, you try to roll out of bed to start your day but he won’t let you, tugging at your thigh so you are pulled flush against him, yanking your leg over his waist, mumbling, “As high lord, Im ordering you to come back to bed lady night”

And you just go with it because a day in bed with Rhys??? 

Unmatched

He likes to sleep a full 8 and 1/2 to 9 hours and you are perfectly happy with that because the whole time, you are cuddling with your mate. 

Can I just say... our night court high lord sleeps naked 

Butt naked 

So of course, you also sleep butt naked because it would be weird if one person did and the other didn’t 

And because... 

Easy access I guess 

No because when he finally finds the energy to wake up, he is slipping between your thighs to wake you up in a very fun way 

Azriel

Okay I think Az is a light sleeper and sleeps the least, and I like to think that he does not snore. He also only sleeps in his bed or your bed. 

I think it is just how he has trained himself as spymaster, and even something that he had embedded within childhood. 

He goes to bed super late and is up super early, and his body is fully okay with that. 

But I think when he meets you, he will wake up and stay in bed, cuddling up close to you and rubbing your back up and down as you sleep, sending strokes of love down the bond just to see a small smile quirk at your lips despite being asleep. 

It makes him feel all warm and fuzzy to know that even in your sleep, he can make you smile and content 

So he just stares at you for a couple hours, admiring your features and thinking about his life before you, with you now, and his future with you.

He thinks of how he used to dream so many nightmares of his past, haunting him despite being so successful as spymaster and a member of the inner circle. A close confidant and brother to the high lord of the night court. How he forced himself to get up early because he felt like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders... how crushing it felt. 

Now, he cannot help but think of the mornings when you sometimes wake up early, and just groan a little, seeking him out by stretching out your arm and patting at the bed till you eventually find his chest, and you just unconciously snuggle right into his shoulder and fall back asleep. How it forces him to stay in bed for longer. How relieved he feels when you do that. How he feels like the weight that he used to carry has been lifted off his shoulders, sent into the ethers. 

He thinks about the futures when your kids will sneak into bed because they had a nightmare or simply because they also don’t want to get up to start the day and they want to cuddle close with their mommy and daddy. 

His shadows like to dance or hover around you two as you sleep, and the usual cuddle position you take at night is you snuggling into his bare chest with his arm wrapped around your waist. It makes you feel so utterly protected and safe, and Az loves that your scent just wafts up to him throughout the night, keeping him at ease. 

He likes to sleep with just his sweatpants on. He loves not wearing shits or tanks to bed because you oogle his chest, nearly drooling, and he lives for it. 

I think he likes when you wear your little silk colbat blue nighty that hugs at your hips and waist, and shows off your tits. 

He do be fucking you to sleep most days 

And he loves to wake you up with his head between your thighs because he got tired of waiting 

Cassian

Cassian is a fucking heavy sleeper and he also fucking snores 

But it is the most amazing thing because you used to hate the snoring, and you would silently adjust his pillows so he wouldn’t be

But when the general is off on a mission or is visiting Windhaven under Rhys’ order, you genuinely cannot fall asleep without his snores, nor can you stay asleep without his snores. 

Like you truly are up until you pass out from exhaustion, but then you wake up in the middle of the night because you don’t hear your mates snores. 

Eventually, they become this white noise for you that is absolutely necessary for you to fall asleep and stay asleep. 

He also is impossible to wake up in the morning. He luckily wakes up because of his natural sleep clock, but if you are trying to wake him up, he just lifts up his head and mumbles a little, “I’m awake dove,” and then lays his head back down and is back to snoring 10 seconds later

It is so fucking cute I cant 

I think Cass likes to fall asleep on his back with you literally on top of him, laying down on his chest. He just loves the weight of your body on top of him, it feels like a compression blanket and he struggles to sleep without it. 

Sometimes, he likes to fall asleep with his head on your chest because your tits do be acting as soft pillows for him, your heart beat a fucking lullaby. 

You know that you struggle to fall asleep without him. He also struggles to fall asleep without you. 

He is also only sleeping in his boxers because this male runs so fucking hot at night, and so you are basically only wearing your panties to bed because you also wake up practically sweating from his heat that radiates off him. 

Let’s be so for real, Cass could fall asleep where ever he wanted. As long as you are next to him, he is ready to fall asleep. 

Lucien 

I think Lucien is a light sleeper, and he snores pretty softly. Like you can barely hear it but you know its there. I think it is just in his nature to be a light sleeper, he wakes up to whatever little sound he hears, but he is also the kind of male to be able to fall back asleep really quickly after pulling you back close to him

I do think that he likes to sleep facing you with an arm tucked around your waist or hip. You both like your general space because it tends to get hot during the night, but at least one part of you is touching throughout the night in a constant reminder of each others presence. 

I think Luc likes to sleep on his side, with his head wedged against a pillow and his muscled arm. I think at some point during the night, you get close enough that your head is resting on the same pillow. 

You both also choose to use pretty light blankets, opting for the day court breeze against your skin 

And I think that you both love to sleep naked because first off... 

easy access right?

But second off... it is just easier and more comfortable that way. 

I also think that Lucien sometimes, when he is a couple hours into his sleep, sleep talks. 

Like full on conversations with the male can occur that he will not remember when he wakes up 

usually its about how much he loves you. 

Even in his sleep, he is thinking of you and loving on you 

Little mumbles of, “I love my mate” and “She is so pretty you don’t even know” and “Gods I cant live without her” and “Honey you better not eat my pumpkin pie”

Very protective over his pumpkin pie I guess 

He also absolutely loves to take naps with you. He loves pulling you towards your bedroom and tossing you onto the day bed on the balcony so he can take a nap with you. It is just so nice and relaxing and you always wake up feeling so fucking refreshed 

Also can I just say...

his favorite way of waking up is...

Gods this is fucking dirty... eeeeeeee

When you are practically sucking him dry 

Eris

Okay I think I am gonna do a pre-Girl dad!Eris with you and a post girl dad!Eris with you because y’all already know that girl dad!Eris owns my heart and soul and I would die for him 

Pre-Girl Dad!Eris 

Eris is such a light sleeper due to his father. I think the male was always forced to wake up early and he never fully trusted himself to fall asleep fully because he didn’t want his father or brothers doing anything to him. 

Even after his fathers death, and just being with his mate, his habit of being a light sleeper and waking up early stuck with him. And I think that habit will stay with him for the rest of his life. 

But lets be honest, before you, this male was so tired. I think he was hovering through life on the brink of exhaustion and the only times he truly felt alert were around his father or brothers or people from other courts. He has a mask to uphold. 

But everything changed with you... 

He was able to fall asleep quicker. He wasn’t afraid to actually fall asleep and shut off his mind into a dreamless sleep. He would allow for your pulses of love down the bond and strokes of his hair to lull him into sleep. And he would stay asleep until sunrise. And he would wake up so fucking rested and relieved. 

He would wake up, ready to start his day and motivated to make Autumn Court a better place for you, his perfect wife and mate. His favorite person in the entire universe. His reason of living. The sole creator of his happiness and peace. 

He would practically be jumping out of bed, quietly of course as to not wake up, to start his day and make some changes

His favorite moments are when you also wake up and you beg him to come back to bed and snuggle with you. You won’t even go back to sleep, you will just climb on top of him and rest your arms against his chest, and peak up at him through your lashes and whisper about your plans for the day as you count the freckles over his nose and cheeks. 

Sometimes you just stare at him with the most adoration he has ever seen anyone look at someone and it has him flushing under you. 

I think he likes to fall asleep with you pressed as close to him as possible. He wants your legs to be intertwined, he wants to be holding hands with you, he wants his head to be resting on your head, he wants your chest pressed against his. 

I don’t think he snores, I think he kinda sighs in his sleep, very content with the feeling of you so close to him

Also, before you have your babes, you are absolutely sleeping naked. 

And you both love to wake each other up by fucking. 

Sometimes he is waking you up with his head between your thighs or when he is slipping into you to slowly rock you awake 

Sometimes its you sucking his cock like you want his cum for breakfast

Or your personal favorite, when you wake up before him and ride him awake 

Ugh literal perfection 

Girl Dad!Eris 

Okay some things never change.

Eris would still be a light sleeper, he would still love to fall asleep basically melting into you. He still is an early riser 

But he fucking loves mornings as a father 

Because his little babes love to sneak into your bed in the early morning hours, waking up early just like their papa, and snuggling into you and him. 

Twila loves to snuggle into her papa’s arms and Marwa is clinging to your back

And they both are sleeping in between you, perfectly content with the warm that you radiate off 

Safe to say... y’all don’t sleep naked anymore. You wear a silk purple nightgown and he likes to wear matching purple silk pajama bottoms. He does still sleep bare chested, and he loves to feel you and babes snuggle into him in the morning. 

Eris used to be so ready to get out of bed and start his days before his little girls...

But now... 

Now he spends hours in bed, watching your babes cuddle with you. Seeing them reach out for him and cuddle into him. 

And gods, does he love waking up to the tangled mess that is his family. With Marwa’s tiny foot pressed into his face and Twila’s arm punching into his side. 

He wouldn’t have it any other way!!!!!

He also finds it so fucking hilarous whenever his babes are practically on top of you, begging their mama to wake up, practically pealing her eyes open with their tiny fingers. Thats when he yanks them out of bed, much to their giggling, screaming delight, and gets them ready for the day 

He loves to take his girls out on early morning wakes while it is still foggy out with his hounds. 12 of his hounds will go on the morning walk, and only one will stay, the youngest, which sneaks into your bed to snuggle with his masters mate. 

He loves kissing you goodbye in the morning while you are half asleep. He loves your tired smile and he loves your messy hair that he gets to stroke as he kisses every part of your exposed beautiful face. 

And he loves coming back from his walk with the girls, often shushing them as they walk into the home because their mama is still asleep, only to find you at the kitchen counter, ready for the day, smiling bright at your mate and perfect babes, making everyone breakfast that you can eat outside on the porch.