#i just think he's such an interesting character

[communistkenobi]

re: last rb, I think the takeaway is not “wow this person is so wrong, Harry Du Bois isn’t a generic white man he’s actually interesting so he’s not an example of a generic white guy character” but that perhaps the writers of the game were making an intentional decision about him being a middle aged white police officer when they wrote the story. like the limitation of dismissing his character as “just another white guy protag” is because it treats ‘representation’ as essentially a doll dress-up game where identity is just a series of discrete inert properties that you plaster onto an already-complete narrative for the purposes of census demographic reflection - that the idea that Harry is a white police officer only because white creators view themselves as default protagonists of all stories and his character is a simple mindless output of that - and not an active component of narrative decision-making. especially disco elysium of all games lol. there’s a fascist named measurehead in it, it’s not exactly subtle about its desire to engage with white supremacy, and I think the game is making a statement about that by forcing you to play as a white cop. and like you can object to those narrative choices and/or the quality of their execution, but Harry could be as ‘generic’ as possible and I don’t think that would make that “just another white guy” critique any more substantive

[crescentpaws]

i saw someone mention this a while ago & i found it helpful to keep in mind when analyzing characters sooo:

sometimes it does make sense if you take a tall, masculine buff man and make him into a feminine, hourglass-shaped woman. if a man is working out & is prominently masc-presenting because he’s trying to fit gender norms, then as a woman she’d most likely do the same thing but for female gender norms.

ex. a man trying to break gender norms by doing more “feminine” things -> a woman trying to break gender norms by doing more “masculine” things

a buff man who works out because that’s what’s expected of him -> a thinner woman who tries to stay skinny & curvy because that’s what’s expected of her

a woman who wears a lot of makeup to feel more feminine -> a man who loves showing off his muscles because it makes him feel more masculine

obviously it doesn’t matter if they’re just naturally of a certain body type/if gender wouldn’t change the way they present themselves anyway,,, buuuuut i think it’s interesting to focus on their motives behind why they present the way they do

on another note… live laugh love buff/non-skinny women

drawing a fem!version of a character but making them skinnier should have consequences spiritually i think. nightmares for a week

[nqueso-emergency]

i seriously don’t understand what bucktommy shippers see in tommy though. genuinely. he starts the show as a racist misogynist and is reintroduced as somebody who has literally 0 defining character traits. he treated buck like a child. he didn’t know or care about the people in buck’s life or buck’s interests. you all claim that he’s had character growth since s2 but we never saw any evidence of that so why should we believe he’s changed? like i’m not even trying to hate here and i really don’t gaf about buddie, but seriously why are you guys so obsessed with tommy 😭

What I don't understand is why some people, like you, anon, put the entire "racist and misogynistic" atmosphere of the 118 under Gerrard completely on Tommy.

Yeah. He makes a racist joke towards Chim when he firsts comes into the 118 but no one stands up against it. In fact, people smirk at it. Even Eli. Eli explains the reason the 118 keeps Chim at arms length. I really wish people would actually watch the episode.

And if you want to get technical, we do see growth in Hen begins (time wise, Chim begins is first. Not Hen's) and when Hen shows up, Tommy is much more accepting of new people. In fact, he's interested in Hen until Gerrard opens his mouth, each time ultimately using his authority to intimidate and I know people hate this accusation but Chim never stands up for Hen in front of Gerrard or the others either.

And that's because they all know how difficult it is working under Gerrard.

By Bobby begins, it's clear that Tommy, Sal, Hen, and Chim all get along. And honestly by saying he's had no growth is an insult to both Hen and Chim's judge of character. Do you think they would willingly hang out with someone outside of work who they felt was actually racist and misogynistic?? Hell no. Didn't you watch the stuff with Jonah?? Hen hated him.

As for having no defining character traits, you're very wrong. Tommy shows up. For friends, for the wedding date, for coffee after the disaster date. He includes Eddie in a lot of his interests. He showed up at the hospital for Buck when he got hurt. He never told Buck he was stupid for believing in the curse and he wasn't embarrassed to be in public with Buck covered in boils. He stayed the night with Buck, sleeping on a tiny ass couch just to be near him. He also attended a funeral for a mummified cowboy and even dressed up.

All those things cover the shit you've said that Tommy doesn't do.

He does care for Buck's interests. He does care for the people in Buck's life. He went to a fucking zoom birthday party for Christopher ffs.

Not to mention, Tommy has acknowledged multiple times that he wasn't a good person back then. He even broke up with Buck even though he was clearly falling for Buck (and I believe already has).

Saying you don't care about buddie doesn't give you the right to say you don't see something that others do.

I don't see buddie happening. Never have. But people can still ship them. That's not a problem, and honestly, I'd never ask someone in fandom WHY they like a character or a ship or even a trope.

The issue is when people are obsessed with a character they don't like. That is where we are in the 911 fandom and it's why there's so much hate.

So. Perhaps. You should send this ask to a buddie bnf and ask them why they're so obsessed with Tommy. Especially now that he's broken up with Buck.

[hotdogmchiggin]

Aw shit they put the horrors of late stage capitalism into my Pokémon Mystery Dungeon 😔

(Mostly) Based on the mouthwashing dev QnA about each character’s favorite Pokémon. Couldn’t get the idea of throwing them into PMD out of my head.

Typical job at the Poke Express Guild:

Some more bonus drawings below

Jimmy secretly wishes he was a mega rayquaza but he’s just a poser who’s obsessed with pikachu’s popularity and position as the mascot. So. A mimikyu.

Daisuke is a zorua because it’s the closest to weregarurumon and I think it matches his vibes. Just a guy who causes a little bit o mischief here n there :)

I did make Daisukes weregarurumon wishes come true (No mega rayquaza for jim)

I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to do with the background so I threw them into the dungeon. WOE upon ye

[abbulark]

It's still happening! I was obsessed with Law & Order in high school, and that's copaganda. Sometimes it's very bad at being copaganda, but it's very interesting to see how things changed over the years. In a season 5 episode of Law and Order that aired in 1994, S. Epatha Merkerson's character Anita Van Buren shoots a young black man who is mugging her at an ATM. It later comes out that he is intellectually disabled. The episode is about her trying to come to terms with the fact that she shot a child that isn't that much older than her own sons, and knowing that even if she gets in no legal trouble, she still did it. Dick Wolf definitely wanted to repair the reputation of the police in New York, but he couldn't go hard against public opinion. But then, public opinion has a tendency to shift.

Twenty years later, the year that Trayvon Martin was gunned down in the street by a civilian PRETENDING to be a cop, the episode ripped from the Trayvon Martin headlines was ALSO ripped from the headlines of Paula Deen saying slurs. It was watered down, had very little message, and was weak. This was clearly on purpose. They didn't even have to justify it, because it was already justified. They just wrote a story about how scary young black people are and called it a day. Here's Jezebel's contemporary review.

I definitely ate the copaganda watching Law and Order contemporaneously, especially when SVU was at the height of its popularity. But Law and Order has such a huge body of programming, some of which is less copagandic than others due to the effect of history. There are shows that came behind it that are straight up glorifying cops killing, like Blue Bloods, The Shield, and one of the worst of all, NCIS.

NCIS has a special place in my hate because it was a clear arm of propaganda for the Israeli military in the era of anti-terrorism task forces. They kill so many fucking people on NCIS, even when they're not doing it with Israeli secret police. Many people in America who justify the genocide in Palestine are doing it with vague memories of episodes of NCIS they've watched.

Anyway. Most of our parents are probably a loss when it comes to not thinking cops are cool and great. But my brother told me that when he watched the video interview our dad gave before his death, dad said he thought my brother would never become a cop. He was right. My brother wanted to save lives, and he never became a cop.

Public opinion does have a way of shifting, after all.

I have to admit it annoys me when folks talk like 1990s media was so daring for mildly disrespecting cops. "Oh, The Simpsons was ahead of its time" no, that was a completely normal level of contempt for the police at the time. There was a big wave of pro-cop media in the early 2000s from which we have yet to fully recover!

[bigmoon-is-bigwife]

I'm still thinking about how a few days ago when Bad was having that out of character talk with Tubbo and others about The Realm and the issues he and others were having where Bad just admitted that he was only matching the energy he thought was being put out there and he would be willing to pull back if people asked.

I think a lot of people forget that Badboyhalo (the creator) leans into playing chaotic villain character that causes problems but he is genuinely a very sweet dude who wants things to be fair. He plays the antagonist because he knows someone has to for things to be interesting. That is how he helps contribute to the story on servers. He gives people someone to go against.

On every server he plays on he falls into the role of a cartoonishly evil character with messed up morals because that's fun and interesting! Bad cares about things being interesting and he will always choose the more interesting choice! His character is as smart or stupid as the most interesting choice requires! If he thinks it's interesting he will walk straight into a trap knowingly! He understands rp is a story told between people and he always does his best to create a scenario that gives other people a chance to do interesting things.

I think a lot of people don't see past the character Bad plays but especially the last few weeks you have been able to see it in the way how Bad freaks out and starts panicking every time he accidentally kills someone. The character he plays is evil but Bad the creator is not and he did not mean to do that! Eventually when he recollects himself he'll play it off in character as being intentional but Bad even admitted on that stream that he played into it because it was interesting for the story! He did not actually mean to kill people but it already happened so it may as well be made interesting and impactful to the plot!

I just have so much respect for him because playing the antagonist is a hard and often thankless job but he throws himself into the role constantly. We have him to thank for pretty much any lore on The Realm right now because he's so passionate about keeping a story fun and exciting. Out of character he's always willing to communicate so I hope that conversation opens up more communication so people coordinate things better.

[deonsx]

helloo there!!♡, I really love the way you write. I'm wondering what it would be like if sae,rin,kaiser, have a gf who is a cosplayer, tyy♡!

Hiii dear!! Have a nice read and thank youuu^^

Rin Itoshi

Rin had come home early from practice. As soon as he opened the door he heard strange noises coming from the living room. When he walked in he found you sitting on the floor trying to shape a large piece of cardboard. The room was a mess with hot glue guns paints fabric scraps and oddly shaped foam pieces scattered everywhere

“What are you doing?” Rin asked with a curious expression. You looked up at him. With a smudge of paint on your face and messy hair you smiled brightly. “I’m working on a new cosplay. This is going to be a piece of armor” you said holding up the cardboard. Rin raised an eyebrow. “Armor? That thing needs a lot of work before it even looks like armor.”

“Don’t tease me!” you retorted. “This is just the base layer. It still needs painting hardening and detailing. Rin chuckled. “Alright alright. But why does the entire house look like a battlefield? Do you even know what you’re doing?”

Though you looked a bit offended you could tell Rin was getting interested. “I watched some YouTube videos and read a few guides. It’s a bit challenging but I’m learning. Plus it’s fun”

Rin sat down next to you and picked up the piece of cardboard you were working on. “If you’re going to put in this much effort at least do it properly. You need to cut this cleanly with a craft knife” he said grabbing a knife and showing you how to do it

After that day Rin couldn’t help but get involved in your project. Sometimes he’d point out mistakes saying “You’re doing it wrong” and other times he’d grab a paintbrush to help you add finishing touches

When the cosplay was finally ready you put it on and showed Rin the completed look. As you posed excitedly you noticed the surprised look on his face. “Alright” he said after a moment “I thought it was silly at first but… it actually looks really good”

“Really?” you asked your eyes sparkling with hope. Rin shrugged. “Maybe. But after all that effort I guess I can’t say anything against it.” At the convention your armor caught everyone’s attention. People stopped you to take pictures and compliment your work. Rin stood a step behind you a small smile on his face keeping an eye on the crowd to make sure no one crossed any boundaries

Sae Itoshi

when you first mentioned your passion for cosplay he didn’t think much of it. “Cosplay? You mean dressing up as fictional characters?” he asked one day his tone calm but slightly curious “Exactly!” you replied with excitement. “It’s a lot more than just dressing up though. I design the outfits build props and sometimes even compete. It’s a hobby but it means a lot to me”

Sae gave a small nod. “If it’s important to you that’s fine. Just don’t expect me to dress up” You laughed at his response knowing it was his way of acknowledging your interests without diving too deeply

A few weeks later you were preparing for a convention. Your living room was a workshop with fabric glue guns and foam scattered everywhere. Sae walked in and paused his sharp gaze taking in the scene “You’ve been at this for hours” he commented setting his bag down

“Yup” you said not even looking up from the detailed painting you were doing on a prop. “The convention is in two days and I want this to be perfect” Sae sighed softly walking closer. “Does it really need to be this detailed? No one’s going to notice if it’s off by a little”

You shot him a playful glare. “Oh they’ll notice. Trust me cosplayers have an eye for detail” He didn’t reply but leaned down to pick up one of the finished pieces. “It’s impressive” he admitted after a moment. “I didn’t realize you made all of this yourself”

The day of the convention Sae offered to drive you there. As you stepped out of the car in your fully completed costume he couldn’t help but let his eyes linger for a moment. You looked stunning the outfit perfectly capturing the character you were portraying “You’re really into this aren’t you?” he said his voice softer than usual “I am” you replied with a bright smile. “And I love it”

At the convention Sae stayed in the background watching as people approached you for photos and compliments. He observed the way your face lit up every time someone admired your work. Despite his usual stoic demeanor he felt a subtle sense of pride

Later as you both sat down to eat he spoke up. “You’re talented. I don’t think I could have the patience to do something like that” You grinned. “Coming from you that’s a big compliment.” Sae smirked faintly. “Don’t let it go to your head”

Kaiser Michael

“You dress up as fictional characters and make all this stuff yourself?” he asked, spinning one of your half-finished props in his hand like it was a trophy.“Yes, Michael” you replied, rolling your eyes at his tone. “It’s not just dressing up. It’s crafting, designing, and bringing something I love to life. And no, you can’t break that it took hours to make”

Kaiser smirked and placed the prop back carefully. “Relax. I’m just admiring your… creativity” A few days later, he strolled into the room while you were sewing fabric for your next costume. His golden hair was slightly tousled, and he leaned casually against the doorway, watching you work. “So, when’s this big event of yours?”

“This weekend” you answered, not looking up from your work “Perfect. I’ll clear my schedule” he said with a grin. You looked up at him, surprised. “You’re coming?”

“Of course” he said as if it were obvious. “I have to see how good you are at this. Besides, you’ll need someone to make sure your fans don’t get too close”

The day of the convention, Kaiser arrived in style, dressed impeccably as always. When he saw you in your finished cosplay, his usual cocky smirk shifted into something softer. “I’ll admit” he said, circling you like a critic. “You look incredible. Almost as good as me” “Almost?” you teased, raising an eyebrow “Fine” he said with a mock dramatic sigh. “You look better than me for now”

At the convention, Kaiser stayed by your side, his presence impossible to ignore. People stared as much at him as they did at you, but he didn’t seem to mind. Whenever someone asked for a photo with you, he’d step aside, arms crossed, observing like he was the one managing your image

“You know” he whispered at one point as you posed for a group shot. “You should’ve told me earlier. I’d have joined you in costume. Imagine us as a power duo unstoppable” You laughed, shaking your head. “This is my thing, Michael. You already have football”

“But you’re my girlfriend” he said with a wink. “That makes everything you do my thing too” By the end of the day, you were exhausted but happy. Kaiser drove you home, still talking about how “you stole the show” and how “everyone was lucky to witness your brilliance”

Enjoy!

[bumblingbabooshka]

Thinking about marriage/women's rights on Vulcan Some may think that T'Pring not being allowed to divorce Spock was because he was going through the pon farr but if she were allowed to divorce him at all she probably would have done that a long time ago, confirmed by T'Pol when she's speaking with Koss, who isn't suffering from the pon farr. She says that he can choose another mate (without invoking a fight it seems: note the difference between a 'mate' and a 'challenger') and after he makes it clear that nothing she says will change his mind about marrying her, she finally threatens to declare a kal-if-fee. It's clear that Vulcan women cannot divorce/refuse to marry a man they've been betrothed to under any circumstances if A) He himself doesn't consent to ending their marriage or B) She doesn't have someone else waiting in the wings to be given to in his stead. Though, if the challenger she selects fails to win the fight, she'll have to marry her betrothed anyway unless (again) he decides he doesn't want her after the challenge. That seems like an incredibly unfair system, heavily biased towards men. SNW is an alternate universe in many obvious respects but most egregiously in that T'Pring has a lot of non-canonical agency over her relationship with Spock. It's interesting to me that Vulcan society has women in many positions of power and treats women as equal to men from what I've seen despite these laws. We don't really see Vulcans exhibiting a misogynistic attitude towards women in general but in TOS (perhaps because of its general writing style but it's still interesting to note) both Sarek and Spock take on patriarchal attitudes specifically regarding wives. Amanda says that 'of course' Sarek commands her because "he is a Vulcan and I am his wife." It's worthwhile in my eyes to note that she specifies 'wife' instead of attributing this attitude to women as a whole. Again, with TOS' writing style it wouldn't be out of place for her to say "he is a man and I am a woman." Spock, while in a pon farr induced irritation, states that it's "undignified for a woman to play servant to a man that isn't hers" - again implying that there's something specific about being a Wife in Vulcan society which is different from being a woman in general and demands subservience to a husband. This could perhaps stem from the extreme sense of ownership that Vulcan law has permitted men to have over women. A woman legally cannot point blank refuse marriage. There is no option which guarantees she won't have to marry her betrothed other than death. When T'Pau speaks of T'Pring she refers to her as being 'property' and Stonn, before being interrupted, states he's made 'the ancient claim' - we don't know what this is because he gets cut off but it's obvious they're both using the language of Vulcan law. Men are permitted true freedom to choose. If a woman wants to choose someone else to be with there is no option available to her other than the kal-if-fee which might result in the death of the one she wants to be with. And, if her lover fails, her husband can still just decide he wants to marry her and she'll be forced to. T'Pring gives two scenarios: One where Spock 'frees' her and one where he doesn't - it's still ultimately his decision which is clear when he ends the conversation with "Stonn, she is yours." This again isn't just because of the pon farr as T'Pol also goes through this. Koss can choose another mate and when the option is talked about there's no implication that this would result in any sort of fight (both by the casualness of its mention and by the fact that there's no formal word for it unlike the kal-if-fee.) Also, the fact that Koss does eventually grant T'Pol a divorce and it's all fine means that T'Pol isn't lawfully required to have another man waiting if her HUSBAND doesn't want her. It's ONLY required if SHE doesn't want her husband. Tradition must take precedence over individual desire UNLESS!!! You're a man. Then it's fine. Like, your parents might not be happy but legally you're golden.

[bluepr1ntyy]

Im like a person but instead of a brain I just have multiple Raven AfterDeath worms

I have very silly headcanons about him,,, I think his body is very cold(corpse-like) and he’s always seeking for warmth, like a reptile lol.

I also think his scar affects him in other ways, I think the whole “stress affects his scar” thing is more because— since magic still flows in his body— his body creates more magic when he’s in (either real or imaginary) danger as a way to try to defend himself but, because he has no way of getting all that extra magic out, it becomes too much for his body and harms him from the inside. His mask would kinda help(?) the magic not get to his face since it could grow up to his eyes, which wouldn’t be good for obvious reasons.

I think exploring Raven’s disability and other ways it might affect him(socially, physically, etc) is interesting idk

Characters;;

Raven by @echoiarts

BluePrint by @pepper-mint

Jeremy(Raven kisser oc) belongs to me </3

Shino-Hana by @blue-kohina

Lux by AlainaPrana

The Raven kid can be any kid ever

Moot tags;;

@doodlesphxre @yeloenk @lushciqqs @clownray1

[tillsfan]

this new vivinos sketch got me thinking.

what if till was way more infatuated with ivan than we thought? what if the whole time, till was actually focused on the both of them, yet due to ivan’s low self worth and unreliable storytelling, we had a complete different perception of him. maybe he was more transparent about his feelings to the both of them.

it would be genuinely insane if when we finally get till’s pov of his life, we get so much more of ivan and much less of mizi than expected. like an even distribution.. main reason i’m thinking this is because of his comic, where he’s seen so much. more chill? around her

he seems a lot more different than what we’d expect based off ivan’s perception of him. this is one of the only instances where his story has been told from someone outside of ivan. it’s very interesting to me.. they’re both pretty prevalent in his comic. they both were in his head. even though it was told by io, i think it’s still worth noting.

i fully believe till acted different and distant around ivan because of his guilt after the meteor scene, as he was likely ashamed of himself. convincing ivan that he wasn’t ever in till’s mind. maybe till felt he didn’t deserve ivan after the fact? i’m sure he was convinced that ivan hated him for it as well. till was probably DWELLING over what happened. it likely weighed him down a lot. in r6, he could’ve been so broken both because of mizi and because he was also going up against one of his loves, someone who tried to help him escape, but he went back on it. in r7, we also saw the meteor scene colors in his ivan flashback. the meteor scene is so heavily associated with ivan specifically, but we’ve seen till so affected by it in multiple instances. mostly in merch. but still.

maybe a lot of his actions were based off of ivan as well, and not just mizi. he’s been shown to be flustered around ivan on multiple occasions..

this is just a “what-if” scenario ramble. i just think it’d be very interesting if it was significantly more different than expected… very very curious for till pov of things. i wonder how much different it would be. we could see how ivan really ruined things for himself, seeing him inhabit till’s mind So Much more than we would’ve ever believed. not saying this is 100% what would happen at all! just ideas.. with how much they’re gatekeeping his pov, i wouldn’t be surprised if his pov completely changed our perception of his relationship with ivan, and till’s character as a whole.

anyways till bisexuality is so real We are so back.

a few more sketches where till is shown to be flustered around ivan. they mean so much to me. ivan you are so clueless

[rafesbabygirlx]

𝙳𝚛𝚎𝚠 “𝙸’𝚖 𝙷𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚍” 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚢

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚈𝚘𝚞’𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝙳𝚛𝚎𝚠 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚎𝚢’𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚔𝚢𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚀𝚞𝚎𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚎. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚊 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚞𝚙𝚘𝚗 𝚃𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝙳𝚛𝚎𝚠 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍, 𝚞𝚗𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚞𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍.

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝 (𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢, 𝚍𝚘𝚐𝚐𝚢, 𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐)

𝙰/𝚗- 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚎. 𝙸 𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚋𝚞𝚣𝚣𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚘 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗. 𝙿𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝙸 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜! 💗

𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍

It was late in the evening, the golden glow of the sunset fading into the soft twilight spilling through the window. You sat cross-legged on your shared bed, phone clutched in your hand, grinning like a fool. Drew had been away for a few days, caught up in press junkets and interviews for Queer, the film that had just solidified his status as a powerhouse actor. It was all anyone could talk about, and you couldn’t help but revel in it.

For the last three years, you had been Drew’s partner in every sense of the word—his anchor, his confidant, and his biggest cheerleader. And now, seeing the world finally recognize what you’d known all along, you felt a swelling pride that had butterflies stirring in your stomach. It was intoxicating.

You had spent hours scrolling through Instagram, TikTok, Twitter—hell, you even Googled him to read every article, fan comment, and review. Some may think it’s obsessive. No. It was love. And joy. And pride.

Then, a curious link to Tumblr caught your eye. Clicking it, you discovered a treasure trove of fanfiction. Some of it was about his Outer Banks character, Rafe, but most of what you found centered on him. The words were vivid, raw, and dripping with the kind of unfiltered adoration you felt but never could articulate.

You devoured the stories, one after another. Heat crept up your neck as the authors painted vivid, intimate pictures of Drew—or Rafe. Hours later, your phone’s low-battery warning flashed. You didn’t even care.

It wasn’t until Drew’s voice broke through your concentration that you realized he was home.

“Hey, babe,” he called, stepping into the room. He looked every bit of a movie star—broad-shouldered, a perfect mix of rugged charm and boyish mischief in his eyes. You hadn’t even noticed the sound of the front door earlier.

Startled, you straightened up, quickly adjusting to sit with your back against the headboard. “You’re home early,” you said, your cheeks flushed.

“Caught you off guard?” he teased, stepping closer. “I missed you. What are you doing?”

You patted the space next to you. “Come here. You need to see this.”

Curious, Drew sat beside you, his thigh brushing against yours. “What is it?”

You handed him your phone, biting your lip as he started to read the story you’d just finished. His eyebrows lifted in surprise, and then a slow, amused chuckle escaped his lips. He ran his thumb and pointer finger down his mouth, shaking his head.

“That was, uh… interesting,” he said, his voice laced with amusement and just a hint of something else.

You couldn’t help the grin spreading across your face. “Right? They’re so good. Better than any of those smutty novels you tease me about. But only because they’re about you. I don’t have to drown out the descriptions of the characters to picture us.” Your voice dropped and you moved in close to his ear, your breath hitching slightly. “I don’t even have to imagine you. It’s you.”

Drew’s eyes darkened slightly as he registered the shift in your tone. His turned his head to look towards you, gaze flicked down to your lips, then back up to your eyes.

You moved quickly, straddling his lap. His hands instinctively settled on your hips as you leaned in, your lips grazing the edge of his jawline. “I’ve been reading these all day,” you whispered against his skin, your breath warm and tantalizing. “And they’ve got me… worked up. If you know what I mean.”

You pressed down against him, your arousal unmistakable. Drew’s hands tightened on your waist as a low groan escaped him.

“You’re unbelievable,” he murmured, though his voice was full of amusement and lust.

You kissed along his neck, your fingers threading through his hair. “Mmm, but you like it,” you teased, rolling your hips ever so slightly. “I want to have some fun.”

Drew tilted his head back, his grin laced with heat. “I’d say you’ve earned it.”

As you continued to tease him, Drew's hands slipped under your shirt, his fingers tracing the curve of your spine. You shivered at the touch, your lips finding his in a hungry kiss. He deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as he stood up, lifting you with him.

"I've been thinking about you all day, didn’t think you were too. I couldn’t fucking wait to get home." Drew growled, his voice low and husky. "I've been thinking about fucking you, about making you scream my name."

You moaned, your body responding to his words, wrapping your arms around his neck. "These stories had me thinking about you too," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I've been thinking about your cock inside me, about feeling you fuck me senseless. Just like the one you just read.”

Drew smiled, his eyes burning with heat as he undressed you and laid you down on the bed. "Get on top of me now. Please, Drew," you whispered, your voice filled with desire. "I want to feel you inside me, I want you fuck me like you mean it."

Drew followed, undressing and positioning himself between your legs, his cock pressing against your entrance. "You want me to fuck you like I mean it?" he repeated, his voice dripping with filth. "You want me to make you feel like a slut?"

You nodded, your body trembling with anticipation. "Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I want you to make me feel like a dirty little slut, I want you to make me feel like I'm yours."

Drew smiled, his eyes burning with heat as he entered you. "You are mine," he growled, his voice low and husky. "You're my dirty little slut.”

He bottomed out in you and immediately began his ravishing pace, the pads of his fingers found your clit, rubbing against it in a gentle, teasing touch. "You like that, don't you?" he whispered, his voice dripping with filth. "You like feeling like a dirty little slut, you like feeling like you're being fucked senseless."

You moaned, your body responding to his words. "Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Tell me then.”

"I love feeling like a dirty little slut, I love feeling like I'm being fucked senseless."

As he continued to move, his hands grasped your hips, holding you in place as he pounded into you. "All fours baby," he whispered, "I want you to feel me fuck you from every angle, I want you to scream my name."

Drew pulled out, flipping you over onto your hands and knees. "I want to hear you fucking scream when I fuck this pussy," he repeated, his voice dripping with filth. "You want me to make you feel like filthy whore?"

You nodded, your body trembling with anticipation. "Yes," you whimpered, your voice barely audible. "I want you to make me feel like I'm yours to use and abuse."

Drew smiled, his eyes burning with heat as he entered you from behind. "You are mine to use and abuse," he growled, his voice low and husky. He was always good in bed, but between how hot and bothered you were from all the reading and Drew taking these fantasies out on you that you just became obsessed with, you didn’t know how much longer you could last.

As he moved, his hands grasped your hips, holding you in place as he pounded into you. You felt yourself building towards a climax, your body tensing as the pleasure grew. Drew reached his arm around you, his fingers finding place on your clit again.

He thrusts into you hard, fingers working in quick circles. You find yourself meeting his thrusts and it became hard to keep yourself up on your hands. “You scream out his name when you come and your upper half goes limp on the bed. He gives you a few minutes to come down from your high and catch your breath before he speaks again.

"We’re not done yet, ride me," Drew whispered, his voice is deep with desire. "I want you on top of me, I want you to use me to fuck yourself.”

You pick yourself up, moving towards him at the head of the bed as you straddle his hips. You sink down on his cock, it stretches you wide open, you sat for a moment as he peppered kisses along your neck. You began to move, your body bouncing up and down. He lifted his hands to your breasts, squeezing them as his fingers played with your nipples. The sensation was exhilarating, the pleasure building again as you moved.

As you continue to ride him, your legs began to tire and he could tell. Drew's hands moved and grasped your hips, guiding your body up and down keeping the momentum, you grew closer to climax and began clenching around him again.

"Fuck you feel so fucking good," he moaned out, his voice dripping with filth. "You're so beautiful, and tight, and so wet for me baby.”

You smiled, your lips curling up as you continued to move. It being the only thing you could do. No words seemed to be able to form. The heat inside you was building, growing with each move. You felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body tensing as the climax approached.

And then, in a burst of pleasure, you came, your body shuddering as you collapsed onto Drew's chest. He held you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you as you caught your breath.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing.

"I love you too," Drew whispered back.

As you two settled in for the night you grabbed your phone and downloaded Tumblr immediately.

When I think of this, these are SOME fics flashing through my mind:

This blurb by @starkeyisthelastname

This blurb by @starkeyisthelastname

Trailerpark!Rafe by @starkeyisthelastname - clearly I’m in love with you

behind closed doors by @httpsdrewstarkey

the annual christmas sorority date auction by @starkeysprincess (and basically anything else she writes)

swipe, fuck, leave by @cameronsprincess (again, everything else she writes too)

breathe, baby by @rafescokewhore (including every other writing and her Drew series flights, I’ve read it 4x and still can’t get enough)

Taglist (including some moots 💞)- @rafestoothbrush @weluvwbb @itsforeverandalwayz @megiiite @percysley @siredbtches @bigenergy777 @aupernatural-teenwolflover @slut4you @rafegf-real @skywalker0809 @kieeslove @snowtargaryen @angelicameron @maybankslover @etheraltides @cooper8224 @hockeybabe87 @xdaughterofpersephonex @leather-n-velvet @mima116 @urbrunettebombshell @pogueprincesa @purplerose291 @frankoceanluvr11 @ivysprophecy @starsmoonn @akobx @rafestify @marleymarleymarleymarley @littlelamy @diasnohibng @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @carolineisdelusional @rafeysangelbaby @nemesyaaa

[tori-artemis]

Oh this is a great question to think about! Tbh I had a lot of hopes back when the series was premiering (and before when it was just announced), so to go off of those... well first off, I really really wanted an exploration of Loki's trauma, his past and even his psyche. Like I know a psychological thriller/horror probably wouldn't have been in the cards for a Disney+ show, but tbf I feel like the creators of Wandavision touched on aspects found in those types of genres (if in a PG 13 kind of way) so I don't think I was too off base for hoping to see something like that for Loki. (Not to mention the ridiculous comparisons to films like Se7en and The Silence of the Lambs that Mike Waldron kept making... but I'm not gonna get into that rant again.)

I think I would've put a lot of focus on what the hell actually happened to Loki when he fell into the Void and disappeared for an entire year or so, and how he ended up encountering Thanos and the Black Order, how that all went down, etc. Either through flashbacks, or (possibly altered) memories, or Loki recounting those events interview/interrogation-style (and being an extremely unreliable narrator in doing so, like for instance saying something like "I made a deal with Thanos and worked with him willingly" and then at some point you see into his head through flashbacks/night terrors and realize that clearly wasn't the case, just stuff like that). The possibilities were endless tbh, like there's just so many creative opportunities to explore that one aspect of Loki's backstory. And since that's such a burning question to me (and many other fans tbh) still to this day, I feel like that'd be the first thing I'd want to tackle.

Another important thing I'd want to include would be Loki's gender fluidity and his bi identity. Like I don't think it necessarily has to go with Loki referring to himself as bi, like I don't think he has to say the actual word "bi" in order to give any meaningful kind of rep?? Especially now that Agatha All Along has come out, I feel like I'd want to approach Loki's identity in a similar type of way, just unapologetic, and as authentic as possible to his comic book counter part. Like hell, he can have hang ups with those parts of his identity (which would actually make sense, being from Asgard and since he already has a lot of self-loathing issues in general due to being Jotun).

I wouldn't mind that, especially if it was done in a non-typical way, like maybe it's not being sexually intimate with men/males that's looked down upon on Asgard, but - similar to the Norse apparently - it's on what role they play, or basically who's the "bottom" - that gets shamed, or maybe same sex relationships aren't looked down upon at all on Asgard, but giving birth/getting pregnant while being/presenting as male is, bc it's seen as unnatural, and then let Loki go through an experience where he develops deep rooted insecurities about those aspects of his identity due to Asgard's cultural prejudices. And like this doesn't even have to be explicit (tho after the birth scenes in both Wandavision and especially Agatha All Along I can't help but roll my eyes at ppl having a hang up with Loki going thru something like this, especially if they were totally okay with Wanda and Agatha having birthing scenes, but anyways). It can be something as simple and as subtle as Loki finding out he's pregnant (maybe he can magically feel the fetus growing inside him, or he can hear the heartbeat/etc, or maybe it's as simple as having morning sickness and/or a change of diet). And it just ends up with him drinking tea/potion (due to pressure from Odin/Frigga/society, or maybe he's not ready and seeks it out himself) which gets rid of the baby, but again it's done in a very non graphic way. Of course the whole mpreg thing is just an example, and doesn't have to be in a series about Loki (that's what fanfic is for!) but basically: let Loki be queer, he can have hang ups about being queer, and tbh I'd want the hang ups to be kind of different from the usual discussions/portrayals of queerness in media mainly bc Asgard's an alien/fantasy society so I'd want their cultural norms to be pretty different from ours (human society in general), but overall just let Loki be queer, goddamnit!

Furthermore, I'd want to explore Loki's self loathing in particular, and see his view of himself change as he develops and grows throughout the series. If he encounters other versions of himself then I'd want to see what that would look like... and preferably done differently from how the show approached it (regarding Sylvie). Like I don't want him to just, I don't know, praise his other self up the way he ends up doing in the series (I know he also fought with Sylvie at the beginning but tbh I couldn't really take their rivalry seriously, it felt very sibling-like - which I actually enjoyed at the time, mind you, but a reflection of one's internal self-hatred it certainly is NOT, and like overall the whole dynamic just didn't work for me bc I find those two characters so undeniably different from each other and therefore it doesn't really work as a metaphor for self hatred/self love, but that's neither here nor there).

Like - let it be messy! Let it actually be vitriolic and hateful if that's what the series is trying to convey. Let Loki be angry, let him rage, let him lash out - at versions of himself and at other characters, like c'mon! This is a character that has a lot of inner darkness and has suffered through a lot of trauma and has difficulty trusting others due to said trauma (especially if we're going with Avengers era Loki) so how about we Show That.

Tbh I wouldn't have minded for Loki's main villain (both in the series overall and wrt the lead character) to be a version of himself. (As long as it was portrayed in a thoughtful way, like don't just make him evil please, in fact he doesn't even have to be evil at all - he doesn't have to destroy or conquer other worlds, he could literally just be out there destroying all versions of Loki, which would force our protagonist to fight/confront this person hunting him down). Like I think there would be so many possibilities for all of the ways a protagonist could deal with a "villain" - or rather, an antagonist like that. Some far more darker than others, depending on how you want your story to go. Like it could end similarly to the Agent of Asgard comics (where I believe Loki ends up forgiving and embracing his "evil" self... tho I've not read the comics so please feel free to correct me if I've gotten something wrong). Or if I were writing this series, I would've just had Loki forced into a position where, after being worn down to reaching his emotional breaking point, and in a fit of sheer rage, he'd end up brutally murdering the antagonistic version of himself, in the ultimate form of self destruction, and then I'd have him reeling from the internal consequences of such an extreme form of violence done against himself - but that's just my ridiculously morbid psychological-horror-loving ass for you. I'd just want to completely unravel him ngl, before having him overcome the impossible by rebuilding himself once more (w/ a little help from his newfound friends)...

If the TVA had to be involved in some way, I'd want to approach them as an ominous totalitarian organization, and if Loki were to be tortured by said organization, it most certainly would NOT be portrayed as some throw-away-attempt-at-comedy-type-of-scene (AHEM). I'd go for a darker tone overall, and Loki's torture at the TVA would be portrayed with all of the horror demanded by those types of scenes dealing with that kind of subject matter.

Tbh I have so many ideas for a Loki-centric show, some that involve the TVA and some that don't, but there's just so many threads and I don't want to make this any more convoluted than it already is, so to put it simply: I'd want the focus to be on Loki first and foremost. If it's called Loki, then it should be about the main lead, similar to how Agatha All Along was about Agatha, and Wandavision was about Wanda. (Which means, if the TVA has to be involved, then they would be secondary to the series' main focus - which would be on Loki and his relationship with himself.) Secondly, I'd want to see his trauma not only brought up, but fully explored. Which includes his traumatic upbringing (Odin's A++ Parenting, Frigga's enabling, family dysfunction, Asgard's toxic social/cultural norms) as well as the horror he experienced in the Void and on Sanctuary, maybe even some events in the first Avengers film, but seen through Loki's eyes this time. And I'd just want Loki to be queer, so if he's bi then let him have previous (or current!) relationships (or flirtations) with men (or attraction towards men) as well as women, if he's gender fluid then Show. That. Whether he physically transforms into a woman at times, or through his inner monologue where he refers to himself with different pronouns even if his gender presentation hasn't changed, or even his ambivalence towards being trapped/labeled in a one-gender-ticked-box, but Show. It. That part of his identity deserves to be shown, especially in a series where Loki's the central character.

If you yourself could’ve directed/wrote the Loki series, what would you have done differently? What would you have wanted to see in a series about Loki? What would you have focused on? Would the series take place somewhere other than the TVA? Which characters would you include? What would be the end goal? What aspects of his character would be explored?

[ohithankyou]

there was a poll that went around last week asking who's better at flirting between buck and tommy and it got me thinking how different they are on that front and so i did sort of an analysis on their flirting styles and compatibility because why not, i guess? it is kind of long because brevity? i don’t know her. i’m not sure if anyone will find this interesting but nonetheless:

so, when it comes to buck, he’s natural flirt. he’s not a “fuck-boy” but flirting is an almost natural way of communicating for him. it's not always about attraction, romantic or sexual, and arguably, majority of the time it's an unconscious practice. buck would flirt with the sweet old cashier at the grocery store, his next door neighbour, or the bartender at the club in simple conversation and not realize he's doing so because it's just the way he talks. it’s second nature to him, you know? (note some of buck’s interactions with different characters and you’ll find the presence of a flirty energy.)

and this is because buck’s got a flirty personality. flirty body language. he's a sweet talker. he's playful. and sometimes he can even be a little awkward but it’s endearing. however, while buck is a natural flirt, it doesn’t mean that his flirting with the people he’s attracted to is meaningless or lacking in sincerity.

and when it comes to the physical nature of his flirting, when he's attracted to someone, buck flirts with his entire body—not just with his twinkly eyes and bright smile. he has big physical gestures. he sways into their space. he tilts his head. bats his eyelashes. follows their eyes. he moves around. he talks with his hands, with his arms. and sometimes it’s deliberate but other times, it’s his body’s natural response to attraction. overall, buck is not subtle when he flirts and it really works beautifully for him (most of the time).

tommy — albeit we've only gotten to see him interact with buck in this context — is completely different. he's charming, but he's not a natural flirt in the way buck is, and possibly, his charm may be an acquired taste for some. tommy is also more reserved (sometimes awkward), more contained, and more conscious of/with his flirting. he's not going to be "flirty" with anyone and everyone. however, although he's reserved, he can still flirt well and his flirting is not contrived by any means—he's just very deliberate and pointed with it; particularly in the early moments of his and buck's relationship, and especially before tommy knew for certain that buck was interested in him.

and like buck, there's also a playfulness to tommy's flirting but it's more subtle and something that's grown overtime in their relationship. and when it comes to his body language, tommy's more contained and subtle on that front as well. he largely flirts with his face—his eyes (insane, pointed eye contact), his eyebrows, his smile—and through his voice (shift in tone, volume). and tommy does enter buck's space when he flirts (ex: when he adjusts buck’s shirt after their first kiss) but in less "big" and "bold" ways than buck enters his (ex: buck reaching out and grabbing tommy’s shoulder after the cruise ship rescue). again, tommy's approach to flirting is more subtle but the impact it has is not subtle.

and the most important and beautiful part of this is that their flirting styles complement each other so well. buck's bold and naturally flirty nature gave tommy the ultimate sign and confidence to make The Big Move (kiss buck for the first time) and that’s a chance that i imagine tommy wouldn’t normally take. and for buck, tommy's deliberate flirting has been a grounding force in the moments he's become overwhelmed, nervous, or been in a state where he was trying to process and understand his feelings. for instance, when buck was word vomiting on their first date, tommy's, “so i guess it's just me that makes you nervous," not only made buck blush, but it refocused him, getting him to slow down and pause. it was earnest but deliberate flirting.

and beyond that, buck's cheeky playfulness when he flirts blends perfectly with the more piercing, and sometimes, old-school romantic energy, tommy brings; see the "you're a vision in a cone," moment. they ping-pong off each other in such a seamless way during that scene — with buck being a little cheeky and playful and tommy being dorky and intense. this scene also serves as a great example of buck's big and bold body language movements when he's flirting vs. tommy's more subtle ones. tommy gently knocks his shoulder against buck's to get his attention and keeps it there, where as buck spreads one side of himself—arms, shoulders, legs—into tommy's space, almost pinning tommy with his body.

and of course, these things change depending on time and place. concerning time, from season seven to season eight we saw buck and tommy become more comfortable and domestic with each other so their flirting developed an almost casual-ness to it (ex: “my own boyfriend won’t even kiss me”/ “well that’s not true” and “my spumoni,” / “no, not your spumoni”). and concerning place, there’s a greater forwardness to their flirting when they’re alone, especially with tommy who’s more reserved (ex: “god i hope so” in 710 and the ‘down to fuck’, “what’s up” in 806). and specifically, i think we see a more bubbly flirty side of tommy when it’s just him and buck together (ex; them in 805 and 806 pre-breakup, the “what’s up” mentioned above is one example of this).

overall, the way they both flirt has clear (positive) effects on the other and it's a big reason as to why their chemistry and connection is always so palpable.

and tldr; i think in a general sense, others may find buck to be the better flirt because of his outward bubbly personality versus tommy’s more reserved nature—but when it comes to the context of their relationship, i wouldn’t say one is better than the other. tommy’s definitely making buck blush and giggle in a way buck hasn’t before but buck is also making tommy feel things he hasn’t before. and they were both definitely flirting each other up on the daily when they were together.

[venomous-qwille]

So, I’m autistic myself, but any pro tips for writing neurodiversity in characters? Pretty please?

I just take different parts of my own ND experience and amplify them with different characters!

So for cricket, it's creating an unreliable narrator by showing the world through the lens of someone with RSD, who is constantly trying to understand/react to the people around them in a way that doesn't 'rock the boat'. Who misinterprets the signals other people send (or don't send), because they don't quite understand how others think. Cricket also immediately accepts other peoples criticisms and negative jokes as literal truth- this is both internalised low self esteem and autism. The Sight is also a metaphor for sensory overstim that comes with autism. When I have to write exposition, I try to do it in the rambling, detailed way of someone who is explaining a special interest (all crickets repair scenes, for instance, where they are harping on about restoration minutiae).

But cricket isn't the only ND character!

Harry is very autism coded, through his collection/interests you see in the setting (a lot of show not tell there) and also in how he fundamentally clicks with cricket in some areas (ND minds think alike) yet has no real understanding of how he has hurt them or the way his actions effect them- there is a lot of bullheaded obliviousness which is the ugly side of autism.

Soleil is masking 2000% of the time. I write him straight up as I was as a deeply traumatized autistic teenager. You don't see his internal world at all, he is constantly modulating/masking his voice, hiding his stims, trying to copy human 'civility', trying to perform politeness and hide his anxiety. You see him self soothe by cleaning in a few chapters.

Sunspot is fun to write because I'm leveraging the 'low Vs hyper empathy' side of ND, exploring that stuff through the way he reacts to things and his relationship with being something non human that looks the most human of all.

I could go on about the other characters, but this is the crux of it:

Try to use show not tell as much as possible

Take the opportunity to weave it into the format/the unreliable narrator

Leverage your personal experiences

Show how characters react to stuff/events/eachother and imagine how those reactions might be effected by their neurodivergence

Thaaaat's about it! I think using personal experiences is the most important one, that's always core to good writing no matter what type of character you are working on.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

because of yuu's living situation I like to think of them as the world's twisted Cinderella until proven otherwise, Crowley keeps making them do things tgat could get em hhurting they live in ramshackle

[Referencing this post!]

Well, that’s the beauty of Twst! A film’s references aren’t limited to just “this twisted character is our take on the Disney film counterpart”. Many different aspects of Twst’s lore could arguably fit as references to multiple films simultaneously.

For example, fans have pointed out that Yuu is like Alice, as both fell into another world. But Ace is also like Alice because he speaks up against the Queen of Hearts (Riddle) and gets into trouble for that. And now here you are, saying that Yuu is also like Cinderella because they live in ramshackle place and carry out chores for Crowley (the “stepmother” in this case). But then you have Trein, who is the character actually twisted from Cinderella’s stepmother, Lady Tremaine. Trein has two adult daughters who must be twisted!Anastasia and Drizella—however, fans have also pointed out that Cater’s two vain older sisters may also be references to Cinderella’s stepsisters. Then for all we know, there might be a real twisted Cinderella (we’ve yet to meet) that exists separately from Yuu, even if Yuu has similar circumstances as them.

That kind of worldbuilding is so interesting! It’s redundant in a way but also not at the same time. Really gives you the sense of being in a dream where the details all sorta mesh together… It’s fascinating.

[redvexillum]

A/N: Hoe, Hoe, Hoe! Happy Holidays, folks! Can you believe it? We've made it to Day 25, and there's just one more story left before Smutmas officially comes to a close! This story is particularly special to me because it's a direct sequel to one of my very first ventures outside my comfort zone—Off Script—where I took on the challenge of writing Alastor as a sub. I really hope you all enjoy it! I did my best to keep him in character, so fingers crossed it hits the mark. And finally—Kit, let’s both finish Smutmas tomorrow with a… bang!

SUMMARY: Alastor thought he was being clever when he snuck extra spices into your gingerbread mix, but his bratty antics had consequences he clearly wasn’t prepared for. As sweet as you usually are, you’re also a master of dominance, and tonight, Alastor learns exactly what that means.

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, pleasure dom! reader, bratty sub! alastor, alastor has a tail, oral sex, overstimulation, pegging, anal plug, aftercare, p in v, fluffy-wuffy, no ANGST (because people be thinking I'm writing angstmas??? >:U)

The first time you broached the topic of introducing your particular interests in the bedroom to Alastor, it did not go as planned. In fact, it spiralled into an entirely unforeseen direction. He veered off script, revealing an unexpected side of himself. It didn’t take long for you to realize something that honestly shouldn’t have been too surprising: Alastor was, perhaps, the most delightfully bratty submissive you had ever encountered. 

At first, you had been hesitant, cautious even, testing the waters with a delicate touch. You started slow, pinning his wrists above his head while straddling him, your slick folds gliding teasingly along the hard length of his cock. His body was tense beneath you, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts as he fought to remain still. And yet, you could see it—the flicker of amusement, the glint of curiosity, and the unspoken challenge in his ruby eyes. 

“Darling,” he rasped, his voice a mix of feigned irritation and genuine arousal, “you do realize I am the one in control here.” 

You leaned closer, your lips brushing his ear. “Oh, of course, love. It’s all for you,” you whispered, your voice dripping with honeyed submission, knowing full well how the words would stoke his ego. 

That balance—teasing the line between control and surrender—was crucial with Alastor. He was willing to explore these new dynamics with you as long as he felt the game was his to win. Over time, these intimate games deepened your connection, building trust in a way neither of you had anticipated. 

It was in these moments of play that you discovered just how much he enjoyed being edged. He saw it as a competition, a challenge, and every false word of bravado he muttered only made you more determined. 

“Is that all you’ve got?” he taunted one evening, his hands tied above his head as you licked a slow stripe along the underside of his cock. His body betrayed him, trembling with the effort of restraint even as he smirked. 

“Oh, you’ll see what I’ve got,” you replied sweetly, revelling in the sharp gasp that escaped him as you abruptly stopped, leaving him throbbing and desperate. 

In time, Alastor even began to participate in choosing the tools for your escapades. When you brought out a selection of dildos, he would inspect them with a meticulousness that was almost comical, tilting his head and tapping his chin as though he were selecting fine wine. 

“That one,” he’d say with a grin, pointing to the one you knew he loved. And when you took your time with him, thrusting the toy deep into his ass while your lips wrapped around his cock, he would surrender so completely it left you breathless. His body would go slack, his head tilting back as he moaned your name, every line of tension melting away. In those moments, he was utterly yours, and the vulnerability he showed was nothing short of beautiful. 

But, as you learned, this came with its own set of challenges. 

Take the time you had decided to edge him for hours as “punishment” for one of his pranks—spiking your tea with a hellpeppers just to see your reaction. He had whimpered, begged, and finally come undone in a way that left him breathless. But instead of deterring him, it only seemed to spur him on. From that day forward, his pranks became more frequent, each one more mischievous than the last, as though he were daring you to make good on your “punishments.” 

Like today. 

You had been looking forward to baking gingerbread cookies, humming softly to yourself as you worked. But when you took a bite of the first batch, you nearly gagged. The sweetness was overwhelmed by a fiery burn that made your eyes water. Whirling around, you saw him standing there, hands clasped behind his back, his signature grin stretching impossibly wide. 

“Alastor!” you snapped, pointing accusingly at the tray of ruined cookies. “Did you do this?” 

His laugh was a low, melodic hum, a sound that made your skin tingle. “Why, my dear, I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean,” he replied, though his twitching nose and barely contained snicker betrayed him. 

You narrowed your eyes, stalking toward him as he took a step back, his grin faltering just slightly. “Oh, you know exactly what I mean,” you said, your voice syrupy sweet and laced with intent. 

The sharp click of your teeth echoed in the quiet kitchen as you fought to rein in the rising tide of frustration. Your eye twitched, your hands curling into fists at your sides as you surveyed the latest in a string of sabotages. The day had started with a simple enough task: helping Charlie decorate the hotel with festive holiday cheer. It should have been done in two hours. Two. Instead, six gruelling hours later, you were still at it, thanks to Alastor’s relentless interference. 

Like a mischievous shadow, he’d been everywhere, undoing your progress with a gleeful flourish, all while flashing that infuriating grin. 

Now, staring at the ruined cookie dough—a batch you’d painstakingly mixed, rolled, and shaped—your patience finally hit its breaking point. The thought of starting over from scratch, gathering ingredients, kneading dough, and baking again made your stomach churn. 

But just as you were about to storm off searching for a quiet space to collect yourself, something stopped you. 

The faintest movement caught your eye—the way the back of Alastor’s coat fluttered as he turned, the eager, almost expectant glint in his eyes as he glanced your way. 

And then it hit you. 

The realization came as a sharp pang of guilt. Between the influx of new sinners at the hotel, Charlie’s relentless schedule of events, and your constant involvement in helping out, you’d been neglecting Alastor. It hadn’t been intentional, but you couldn’t deny it either. Months had passed where you’d barely seen him outside of fleeting interactions, let alone shared any meaningful moments together. Even the intimacy of the bedroom had been replaced by nights spent alone in your own room. 

You sighed softly, the frustration in your chest shifting into something else—understanding, perhaps even regret. Of course, Alastor, with his peculiar ways, wouldn’t simply say he missed you. That wasn’t his style. No, this was his way of communicating, as exasperating as it was endearing. 

Walking toward him, your demeanour softened. Your fingers grazed lightly down the front of his chest, the movement enough to draw his attention. His grin faltered for just a moment as you spoke, your voice low and soft. 

“I’m going to my room,” you murmured, offering no further explanation as you turned and walked away. You didn’t need to look back to know he would follow. 

By the time you stepped into your room, the shadows shifted, and Alastor materialized before you with his usual dramatic flair. 

“Already, darling?” he chimed, his tone as jovial as ever. “Oh, I pity poor Charlie for hiring someone who can’t manage such a simple task,” he teased, his grin widening as he prodded at your lingering frustration. 

But this time, instead of rising to his bait, you smirked. Slowly, deliberately, you closed the distance between you, your eyes never leaving his. His playful expression faltered, just slightly, as you leaned in, resting your head against his chest. 

“I’m so disappointed, Alastor,” you whispered, your voice carrying a softness that belied the weight of your words. His body stiffened beneath your touch, and a shiver ran through him as your fingers deftly began to unbutton his shirt. 

“You’ve been so bad these last few weeks,” you continued, each syllable dripping with quiet reprimand. 

Alastor’s breath hitched as the fabric slipped from his shoulders, exposing his skin to the dim light of your room. “Oh, that’s what I do best,” he quipped, though his voice trembled slightly, betraying the bravado in his words. 

With a gentle push, he stumbled back onto the bed, his legs spreading instinctively as he leaned back on his arms. His cock twitched, already hardening, as he watched you climb onto him with methodical slowness. 

“And what will you do about it, darling?” he goaded, his tone laced with challenge. 

“Well,” you mused, straddling him without letting a single inch of your body touch his, “I suppose it’s only fair that I receive my recompense.” 

Your fingers traced the sharp lines of his face, moving with tenderness that made him shudder beneath you. His grin faltered, his composure slipping as you let your touch wander downward. Your nails ghosted over his chest, tracing patterns against his skin, stopping just shy of his now achingly hard cock. 

“Darling,” he rasped, his voice thick with need, his body trembling with the effort of restraint. 

“Patience,” you whispered, a smirk playing at your lips as you leaned in closer. “After all, you’ve been so bad—surely you understand the importance of a little... delay.” 

Alastor’s eyes burned with equal parts anticipation and defiance, but he made no move to stop you. For once, he was entirely at your mercy, and you intended to savour every moment. 

“Since you love to play around so much,” you murmured, your gaze locking onto his piercing crimson eyes, “let’s playtogether, Al.” 

Your words were honeyed, teasing, as your fingers finally wrapped firmly around the thick shaft of his cock. His breath hitched audibly, and for a fleeting moment, his ever-present grin wavered. That alone was victory enough, but you weren’t finished. Leaning in, you let your lips ghost over his, so close that your breath mingled with his. 

“Hours, Alastor,” you whispered, your voice dripping with promise. “I’ll play with you for hours.” 

The effect was immediate. His eyes fluttered closed, and a soft, involuntary moan slipped from his lips. The usual bravado he wore like a mask began to crack under the slow, deliberate stroke of your hand. You could feel the way he melted into your touch, his body responding with a shiver as the tension in him ebbed away. 

He no longer held back, no longer stifled the sounds he made or the soft confessions of what felt good beneath your touch. It had taken time, patience, and trust to reach this point, where he no longer masked his vulnerability in shame but surrendered to it with you. 

You pressed your other hand to his chest, urging him back, and he complied without resistance, lying against the bed as you worked him with skilled hands. His cock throbbed hot and heavy in your grasp, silken beneath your palm as you pumped it with slow, deliberate strokes. 

“D-Darling,” he breathed out, his voice trembling, his head falling back as his hips began to roll against your hand. His moans started low, rising in pitch as his body grew more desperate, his movements frantic in his chase for release. 

You matched his urgency, your hand moving faster, guiding him closer to the edge. His foreskin slid over the glossy tip of his cock, only to be drawn back down, exposing the glistening head with each thrust. The slick sounds of your motions filled the room, mingling with his erratic breaths and soft cries. 

“Darling, darling!” he cried out, his hips canting forward one last time before his release overtook him. Hot, sticky ropes of cum painted his chest, streaking his skin with creamy lines. His breath came in heavy, uneven pants as his body trembled in the aftershocks of pleasure. A haze of satisfaction clouded his crimson eyes, but beneath it, you saw the flicker of anticipation. He knew this wasn’t over. 

Your fingers lazily dipped into the sticky warmth of his release, swirling through it before lifting to your lips. Your tongue darted out, tasting him with a soft hum of appreciation. “Mmm, it’s been a while, hasn’t it, Al?” you teased, pressing a lingering kiss to the oversensitive tip of his cock. He jolted, his hips bucking instinctively at the sudden contact. 

“You haven’t been finding release without me, have you?” you asked, your voice sweet but laced with mischief. 

“Hah!” His laugh was strained, tinged with his usual bravado as he tried to recover some semblance of control. “Please, darling, I can hold myself back just fine,” he quipped, though his eyes darted away, betraying him. 

“Is that so?” you murmured, your tone light and teasing. Without warning, you leaned down, engulfing his still-soft cock with your mouth. 

Alastor hissed sharply, his claws sinking into the bedsheets as you drew back his foreskin with your lips, swirling your tongue over his sensitive head. His body jerked beneath you, trembling as overstimulation began to set in. 

“Ah, d-darling,” he panted, his voice shaky, the usual radio-filtered crackle distorted by the raw edge of his cries. “A-ah, ah!” His cock twitched weakly in your mouth, his body entirely at your mercy. 

You didn’t relent, your tongue working over him with precision, coaxing out every last tremor of pleasure you could draw from him. His head fell back, exposing the vulnerable column of his throat, as his hands fisted the sheets in a futile attempt to ground himself. His breath came in ragged gasps, his voice breaking as he moaned your name again and again. 

But you remained attuned to him, careful to read the signals of his body. Alastor, ever stubborn, would never admit when pleasure teetered on the edge of too much, and you wouldn’t let him push past his limits. For you, his pleasure was your greatest reward, the sight of him unravelling before you igniting a heat in your core that left you clenching and aching with need. 

Still, you slowed your ministrations, pulling back just enough to let him breathe, to bask in the blissful haze that softened his sharp edges. His trembling body told you everything his words wouldn’t—that he trusted you completely, in this and in everything else. 

The moment his thighs began to tremble, instinctively closing around your head, you knew it was time to stop. With a calculated precision, your lips tightened into a seal around his cock, sucking deeply one last time before pulling back. His length slipped free with a loud, wet pop, leaving him quivering and gasping beneath you. 

Alastor's abdomen fluttered with each shallow breath, his chest rising and falling erratically as he tried to gather himself. A thin sheen of sweat coated his pale skin, catching the soft light and accentuating the slight tremor that rippled through him. His crimson eyes, glazed and unfocused, stared blankly at the ceiling, his usual composure nowhere to be found. 

Your gaze softened as you admired the rare vulnerability etched into his features, but a spark of mischief flickered in your chest. Leaning forward, you dragged your tongue languidly along your middle and index fingers, wetting them thoroughly before trailing them downward. When you pressed the slick pads of your fingers against the tight ring of muscle between his cheeks, his entire body jolted as if struck by lightning. 

His sharp intake of breath was followed by a low, trembling moan as his crimson eyes flicked downward, meeting yours. That familiar grin of his began to reappear, albeit strained, but you matched it with one of your own. Slowly, deliberately, you worked your fingers inside, the tight, hot walls clenching around you as you sank deeper. 

“Ohhh,” he moaned, his voice pitching higher as his hips began an instinctive, grinding motion against your hand. Each stroke and press of your fingers sent shockwaves through his body, and you couldn’t help but relish the way he cried out your name, breathless and desperate. 

“Is this what you missed, Alastor?” you murmured, your voice dripping with sultry amusement. The heat pooling between your thighs was almost unbearable now, your soaked underwear clinging to your skin. You punctuated your question with feather-light kisses along the sensitive curve of his balls, earning another full-body shudder from him. 

“D-don’t be ridiculous,” he managed to huff out, though the quiver in his voice betrayed his bravado. His hips bucked against your hand, seeking more, needing you to go harder, deeper, faster. “You—hah—you’re the one who seems to need it more than I do!” 

His words faltered into a broken cry as you curled your fingers inside him, pressing directly against his prostate. The reaction was instant—his cock, already half-hard, twitched violently before stiffening completely, precum dripping steadily from the swollen tip. Thin, sticky strands pooled on his stomach, glistening in the dim light. 

“I-I c-can smell you,” he groaned, his voice cracking with static as the radio distortion flickered uncontrollably. “I can s-smell your arousal, d-darling.” 

His eyes fluttered as he struggled to focus on you, the effort clear in the way his brows furrowed, and his lips parted with ragged breaths. You smiled wickedly, never ceasing the relentless rhythm of your fingers as you leaned in close. 

“Is that your way of saying you want me to ride you, Alastor?” you teased, your tone saccharine sweet, as you slowly withdrew your fingers. 

The way his ears flattened against his head and his lips pressed together to smother the pitiful whine that escaped him was nothing short of endearing. You straightened up, locking to his gaze as your hands moved to peel away your clothing. 

One by one, the layers fell away, revealing more of your heated skin to him. Alastor’s crimson eyes darkened with unrestrained hunger, his slender fingers flying to his cock, stroking himself slowly as he devoured the sight of you. The moment your panties slid down your legs, his attention zeroed in on the dark, damp patch that clung to the fabric. 

The sight of how soaked they were made his breath hitch. His grip on his cock tightened, his strokes quickening ever so slightly as he watched you stand before him, completely bare, the evidence of your arousal dripping down your thighs. 

Picking up your damp underwear, you held it delicately between your fingers, bringing it close to Alastor’s face. His eyes, smouldering with unrestrained hunger, followed the movement intently. A sly grin curled your lips as you whispered, “Go on. I know you’ve been dying to taste me.” 

In the past, he would have resisted—an adamant refusal to entertain such a base desire. But now? Now, his restraint was a distant memory. He eagerly took the fabric from your hand, his sharp grin widening as he pressed it to his lips. His tongue darted out, licking and suckling on the soaked material, his moans vibrating softly into the delicate fabric. He savoured every drop, his eyes fluttering shut as if lost in your essence. 

While he indulged, you turned your attention to the drawer by the bed, fingers searching for a specific item. A soft laugh escaped you as you pulled out the toy you’d been looking for—one of his favourites. The memory of the day he wore it, the secret only the two of you shared as he moved through the hotel with it snug inside him, made heat rush to your cheeks. 

The anal plug, adorned with curvy ridges and capped with a glittering pink heart at its base, glinted in the low light. Alastor froze mid-lick, his gaze snapping to the toy. His tail, which had been lazily swaying, thumped excitedly against the bed. 

You teased him further, holding his gaze as you slowly lowered the plug to your wet core. You pressed the tip to your entrance, coating the ridges in your slick. Alastor’s breath hitched, and a groan slipped past his lips as he watched you pump the toy in and out of yourself, each movement deliberate, each moan of yours feeding his anticipation. 

By the time you pulled the toy free, glistening and dripping with your arousal, Alastor had already lifted his legs, spreading them wide to present himself. His sharp grin turned expectant, almost demanding, his crimson eyes glinting with challenge and desire. 

You chuckled at his eagerness, running your free hand along the curve of his thigh. “Patience, darling,” you murmured. He squirmed beneath you, his cock twitching against his stomach as you pressed the slick plug against his entrance. Slowly, you began to work it in, the ridges catching slightly against his tight walls before sliding deeper, inch by inch. 

Alastor’s breath came out in stuttering gasps, his hands gripping the sheets tightly as the plug seated itself fully to the base. His cock throbbed, a bead of precum trailing down to pool on his stomach. He looked utterly wrecked, his body trembling and his chest heaving as he adjusted to the sensation of fullness. 

But you weren’t done. Without giving him a moment to recover, you straddled his hips, gripping his throbbing length and guiding him to your entrance. In one fluid motion, you sank down onto him, taking him to the hilt. His reaction was instant—a sharp gasp, his hands flying to your hips as his back arched off the bed before collapsing again. 

The tight heat of you gripping him drove him wild. His cock twitched inside you, sending jolts of pleasure radiating through both your bodies. But your focus wasn’t on his body—it was on his expression. His usually sharp grin softened, his crimson eyes half-lidded and hazy with pleasure. His body trembled beneath yours, the rare vulnerability in him stirring a possessive warmth in your chest. 

He hummed low in his throat, a sound of pure, unfiltered delight, as you leaned forward. Pinning his wrists beside his head, you met his gaze, your movements slow at first. Each roll of your hips elicited a delicious tremor from him, his breath climbing with every downward thrust. 

“Y-you’re i-insatiable, d-darling,” he managed, his voice trembling as your pace quickened. 

You smiled wickedly, increasing the rhythm, the sound of skin meeting skin mingling with his stuttering breaths and deep moans. His sharp cries soon gave way to something softer, more desperate, as his body began to tense beneath you. His head fell back, exposing the long line of his neck as his eyes squeezed shut. 

“Look at me, Alastor,” you commanded softly, and his gaze snapped back to yours. The raw, unguarded desire and faint embarrassment in his expression sent a thrill through you. His cries grew louder, his hands flexing against your grip as he reached his peak. 

With one final, broken moan, his body shuddered violently beneath yours, his cock twitching as he spilled into you. The hot flood of his release filled you, his seed coating your walls as he gasped for air. His body remained taut for a moment before he melted into the bed, utterly spent, his eyes glazed with lingering satisfaction. 

Catching your breath, your body hummed with unresolved need, but it didn’t matter. Watching Alastor surrender beneath you, unravelling with every calculated touch, was pleasure enough. 

His lips were parted, a thin line of saliva glistening at the corners as his chest rose and fell in uneven gasps. The edges of his crimson eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and his expression—dazed, undone—was utterly intoxicating. His usual composed veneer had crumbled, leaving him bare in every sense. 

A quiet chuckle escaped you as you finally lifted yourself from his trembling form, feeling the warm trickle of his release sliding down your thighs. “We’re not done yet, Al,” you teased, your voice carrying a sing-song lilt. “We still have one more of your favourites, remember?” Reaching for the strap-on, you held it up—a big, crimson silicone cock gleaming in the dim light, its impressive weight resting heavy in your hands. 

You caught the way his body tensed, his tail twitching in anticipation, but there were no sharp remarks, no coy retorts. He was beyond that now, surrendering completely. With a sluggish roll, he shifted onto his stomach, his cheek pressing into the bed as his hips lifted, presenting himself to you. His red-and-white tail puffed out and flicked upward, revealing the sparkling jewel of the heart-shaped plug still nestled snugly within him. 

“Good boy,” you purred, and his tail wagged weakly in response. His fingers reached back, spreading himself open, stretching his cheeks taut in a silent plea. 

You smiled, strapping the harness to your hips, the familiar weight grounding you in this moment. Slowly, deliberately, you began easing the plug from his entrance. Each inch coaxed a muffled whimper from him as he buried his face in the mattress, his body trembling beneath your hands. The resistance gave way, and with a final tug, the jewelled plug slid free, leaving his entrance clenching and exposed. 

The sight of him, so open, so needy, sent a surge of heat pooling low in your core. You rested a hand on his hips, guiding the slicked synthetic cock to his waiting entrance. Without hesitation, you thrust forward in one fluid motion, burying yourself to the hilt. 

Alastor choked on a cry, his body jolting forward before he melted into the bed, a low, guttural moan spilling from his lips. His claws raked over the blankets, shredding the fabric in a desperate bid for control. 

But there was none to be had—not here, not now. 

You set a relentless rhythm, your hips snapping forward with precision, filling him over and over. The wet slap of skin meeting skin filled the room, mingling with his muffled cries and the breathless moans you couldn’t suppress. The way his body clenched around you, his walls tightening with every thrust, only spurred you on. 

“Ah—ah—darling,” he panted, his voice breaking into a mix of static and white noise as pleasure overwhelmed him. His body arched beneath you, his hips rolling back to meet your thrusts with desperation. 

“You like this, don’t you?” you murmured, your breath hot against his ear. “Being filled so completely… You’re so beautiful like this, Al.” 

His only response was a shattered moan, his body spasming violently as he came again, thick ropes of his release painting the ruined bed beneath him. But even as his trembling form sagged into the mattress, you didn’t stop. 

“Isn’t this fun, Alastor?” you panted, your grin wicked as you leaned over him, your pace unrelenting. “I could do this all night.” 

His claws curled into the shredded fabric, his body shaking with overstimulation as he gasped and whimpered beneath you. He was utterly wrecked, undone, every piece of him yours in this moment—and it was everything you had missed. 

Your hands slid to either side of his trembling frame, hovering over him as you moved with deliberate intensity. His voice had dissolved into a symphony of broken moans and guttural grunts, his ears pinned flat against his head in a rare display of vulnerability. Leaning closer, your breath ghosted over his ear as you purred, “Let me see your face, Al. Don’t rob me of my pleasure.” Your fingertips traced the back of his head, the touch tender yet insistent. 

He shivered at your words, slowly turning his head to meet your gaze. His lips hung open, strands of saliva pooling beneath his cheek. His crimson eyes, distant and unfocused, shimmered with tears that spilled in streaks down his flushed cheeks. And yet, despite his unravelling, the faint trace of a grin lingered—a testament to his unyielding spirit. 

“More?” you asked, voice laced with teasing affection. Alastor’s only reply was a low, ragged moan as his hips pressed back against you, silently pleading. A soft chuckle escaped you as your fingers danced down the curve of his spine, drawing a visible shudder from him. “You really are a masochist, aren’t you, Al?” you murmured, your words barely above a whisper. 

When his moans faltered into silence, his teeth clenching as he fought to muffle the smallest of whimpers, you knew he’d reached his limit. Carefully, you slowed your movements, easing out of him with a touch as gentle as a whisper. Both of you were coated in a thin sheen of sweat, your breath coming in soft pants as you sat back. 

Alastor lay trembling, his body spent and quivering in the aftermath. Every so often, his legs would twitch, jolting with the lingering aftershocks of overstimulation. His hand reached out, trembling and seeking, and you didn’t hesitate to meet it, intertwining your fingers with his. The silent gesture spoke volumes—his need for your warmth, your gentleness, your grounding presence. 

With care, you removed the strap-on, setting it aside before sliding into the bed beside him. Your body folded seamlessly into his, your hand cradling his as you pressed a tender kiss to his knuckles. His half-lidded eyes locked onto yours, filled with exhaustion and unspoken affection, unable to look away. 

Smiling softly, you lifted his hand, your lips brushing over each finger with reverence. One by one, you kissed his thumb, his index finger, trailing your touch over his palm. The gesture was unhurried, filled with tenderness, as you snuggled closer to him, your lips finding the curve of his shoulder. 

A warm chuckle rumbled low in his chest, his voice soft and worn. “Darling,” he rasped, his tone laden with affection as his tail gave a lazy thump against the bed. He sighed deeply, basking in the featherlight kisses that travelled up his neck and over his face. His cheeks, his forehead, his closed eyelids—all received your gentle attention before your lips finally found his. 

The kiss lingered, a soft press of emotion and intimacy. When you pulled back, his voice, though hoarse, carried a familiar teasing lilt. “You’ve been far too busy this month,” he murmured, his crimson eyes slowly opening to meet yours. 

Your heart swelled, warmed by the rare vulnerability in his gaze. You smoothed back a stray strand of hair from his face, your fingers brushing his skin with care. “I have, haven’t I?” you answered softly. Your lips curved in a tender smile as you leaned down to kiss him again, the touch light, barely there. “I missed you,” you whispered against his lips, your voice thick with sincerity. 

He chuckled again, though it was tired and weak. “And yet, you chastise me about your cookies,” he teased, his grin slipping back into place. 

“Ruining my cookies,” you corrected with a mock glare, your tone playful. 

“You love it when I spice up your – ah – cookies,” he countered, his voice carrying a faint echo of words he’d said long ago—a callback to the early days of trust and intimacy you’d built together. 

A soft giggle bubbled from your lips as you pressed your forehead against his, your eyes brimming with affection for the cunning, mischievous demon you adored. “You’re such a silly man,” you whispered, nuzzling your nose against his. 

His arms came around you, pulling you tightly against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear was a comforting reminder of the unspoken bond you shared. In that quiet moment, you held each other close, the world beyond forgotten. Only the warmth of his body and the soft hum of his love remained. 

“And you, my darling, are my special girl,” he murmured, his voice a tender caress against the quiet of the room. He pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head, his lips warm and soft. Slowly, his breathing steadied, each exhale becoming longer, deeper, until it melted into the gentle rhythm of sleep. 

You stayed there, cradled in his embrace, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. A gentle smile tugged at your lips as your fingers traced small, absent-minded patterns along his side. The warmth of his words lingered in your heart, a balm to the chaos and distance of recent days. 

As you listened to the quiet thrum of his heartbeat, you made a silent promise to yourself. Next time, you’d find ways to give him the attention he deserved, to show him how much he meant to you—perhaps even preempt whatever mischievous “spicing up” he might dream up to draw your focus. 

For now, though, your heart felt full, brimming with love and contentment. Snuggling closer to him, you let yourself be enveloped in his warmth, your body fitting perfectly against his. The steady cadence of his heart matched your own, the two rhythms intertwining as if they were always meant to be. 

You closed your eyes, a peaceful smile lingering on your lips. Wrapped in his arms, you let sleep claim you, your dreams filled with the love you shared and the quiet promise of all the moments yet to come. 

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