#i probably posted this exact same thing before

[biancadoes1]

Look I’m not shipping anyone anymore but there is some recent events that certainly raise an eyebrow or two.

The 3 recent papped events;

1. carrot-gate

2. Lukes solo coffee pap

3. Domestic/booger-gate of Luke & A

We’re all shot by the same pap photographer.

Something went down at Yungblud’s between Luke and A, people in attendance in the VIP section saw it happen. A left after Yungblud’s 4 songs, Luke stayed.

Next morning, Nicola’s fan picture at a juice bar is coincidently is just a 4 minute walk from where Luke was paper with his coffee.

The Lover Boy shirt can be taken with a grain of salt, they did send out promo packs Sep/Oct last year with this shirt before it released to the website.

It is suss that events that Luke and A attend, almost always, she leaves first without Luke.

There is also Apprently a video (as of the past 8 hours) of Nicola and Jake from the BAFTAs nominee party which there was some noted some obvious tension and discomfort between the two and even the beloved Jake Dunn fan page on IG will not post out of privacy.

These continued eyebrow raising events keep asking questions - no clear cut relationships.

Things are not always what they seem. Some maybe better actors than others.

I've heard about Antonia leaving events before Luke before.

I also definitely clocked Nicola's juice outing was in the same exact vicinity as Luke's pap walk.

I believe the pic from Cyprus is old and that he was there possibly in October/November last year for probably some business with Antonia's family.

Jake and Nic looked so fucking uncomfortable last night it physically makes me cringe.

It's so fake it's painful. All of it.

[cbeargyu]

Hiii if reqs are still open can I ask for a coworker Doyoung finding out you're an onlyfans model....😭✋♥️

miss erotica

summary: you and doyoung are coworkers who maintain a strictly professional relationship… until he accidentally discovers your secret life as a lingerie model on onlyfans. tension builds, desires unravel, and when the truth finally comes out, you make him a filthy little offer he can't refuse.

pairing: coworker ! doyoung x coworker (of model) fem! reader

genre: smut, coworkers to lovers, slow burn tension, light dom!doyoung, lingerie kink, secret double life reveal.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, explicit sexual content, thigh riding, lingerie modeling, unprotected sex, rough sex, oral fixation (male receiving implied), cumshot on stomach/lace lingerie, cumshot on face (briefly mentioned), possessive behavior, light praise/degradation, slight overstimulation, photo taken for onlyfans post, doyoung jerking off alone at the end

wc: 3,6k

notes: omg, incredible request anon, i hope you enjoy it! thank you all for your requests, remember that they’re open, though it might take me some time to get to them due to my schedule🩷

working with doyoung had always been... easy. despite your desks being placed directly in front of each other, just a breath apart, the relationship stayed strictly professional. you weren't sure if it was because he was a workaholic who barely lifted his head from the screen, or if it was simply the nature of two people who lived parallel lives — polite, distant, untouched by anything messy or personal.

you knew the basics. he was single, lived alone, probably married to his job. you weren’t that different either — renting a cozy little apartment not far from the office, sharing your space with your two cats: milo, a silver tabby with a mischievous glint in his eye, and luna, a cream-colored ragdoll with lazy, half-lidded stares. you had exchanged bits of your life over small talk, shallow conversations at best. never more. never deeper.

what you didn’t know, what nobody knew, was that doyoung had a secret obsession — paying for content on onlyfans. not just any content. he was a loyal subscriber to a certain "miss erotica", a woman who never showed her face but showcased her body in ways that blurred the lines between art and temptation. he didn’t tell anyone. how could he? it was his private addiction, the one thing he allowed himself outside the endless deadlines and excel sheets.

then, one morning during a rare group breakfast at the office, the conversation drifted to pets. casual, harmless. you, smiling, pulled out your phone and showed a picture of your cats lounging by your living room window. milo, sprawled like a king, his silver fur shining under the sun; luna, tucked next to him, her cream coat like a spilled glass of milk against the dark wood floor.

"they're beautiful," someone cooed.

doyoung looked at the screen. and froze.

something pricked at the back of his mind. the silver tabby with the green collar... luna's cream fur... it looked familiar. almost too familiar.

he had seen them before.

but not here.

his heart stuttered, his throat going dry. he stayed silent, watching as you scrolled through more pictures, laughing, showing off your babies to the group. you didn't notice the way his eyes stayed glued to your screen, how his mind reeled.

because in one of miss erotica's most memorable posts — a shot of her ass in black lace panties, arching perfectly against a leather chair — there had been a cat in the background. a silver tabby. with the exact same green collar. and another fluff of cream lazing by a window.

doyoung’s stomach twisted.

no, it couldn't be.

he hadn't saved the picture. it had been months ago. it could be a coincidence. right?

he spent the rest of the day distracted, replaying the image in his mind, trying to grasp at details, trying to reason with himself. people had cats. cats could look similar. it didn’t have to be you.

and he almost let it go.

almost.

until summer came.

you traded your usual long-sleeved blouses for casual short-sleeve shirts, your skin kissed golden by the sun, the curve of your arm now exposed to his line of sight. that day, when you leaned across the desk to pass him a file, the hem of your sleeve rode up. doyoung’s eyes — traitorous, hungry — caught something.

a tattoo.

small, delicate.

a slender vine of wildflowers, curling around the back of your arm, the ink fine and dark against your skin.

he stared.

he knew that tattoo.

he had spent hours tracing it with his eyes on his screen, had memorized the way the petals twisted, the slight flaw in one of the leaves. miss erotica had that same tattoo. he had noticed it countless times while she modeled those sinful sets of lingerie — crimson silk, ivory lace, black leather.

doyoung’s heart slammed against his ribs. it wasn’t just a theory anymore. it was you.

he looked up slowly, meeting your eyes across the desk. you gave him a small, polite smile, unaware of the war raging inside him.

he swallowed thickly, his hands curling into fists under the desk.

fuck.

you were miss erotica.

and now, he couldn't unsee it. couldn't pretend he didn't know. every time you bent over slightly to pick up a file, every time you tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, every time you laughed low and sweet — it all layered itself with the filthy, burning images he'd paid to see at 2 a.m.

it was you.

doyoung hadn’t just stumbled across your profile. he had been looking for something — something specific, something that scratched a very particular itch deep inside him. lingerie. but not just anyone posing in cheap lace or overexposed shots. he liked the slow burn, the tease, the art of it. miss erotica was perfect. you had perfected it.

your content wasn’t explicit in the obvious sense. no faces, no messy, desperate angles. it was the suggestion of sin, the elegance of a body wrapped in silken temptation. intricate corsets, delicate garter belts, sheer stockings stretched over soft skin. sometimes, he thought the way you positioned your hands was even sexier than nudity — subtle, knowing. you wore lace like it was a second skin, posed in ways that made his mind work, made him imagine peeling each layer off inch by inch.

he had a thing for thigh-high stockings. for black lace that hugged curves and hinted at forbidden places. and miss erotica — you — had a way of making every single photo feel personal. like you were posing just for him.

he had spent too many nights gripping the sheets in frustration, whispering your name under his breath, not even realizing it. miss erotica. miss erotica. it was stupid how deep it went.

and now...

you were sitting across from him at your shared desks, tapping away on your keyboard, completely unaware that the woman who had made him lose sleep, made him ache with need, was breathing the same office air as him.

it felt wrong.

it felt so good.

he was drowning in it.

the realization clung to him like static electricity. he watched the way your fingers danced across the keys, slender and sure, the same fingers he had imagined curled in the waistband of delicate panties. he watched the way you tilted your head slightly when you read something intently, exposing the soft line of your throat, the same throat he had dreamed of marking.

he couldn't focus.

he couldn’t fucking breathe.

you had no idea.

the days after the realization were torture.

doyoung tried to act normal — professional, polite, like he hadn't spent half the night with your photos burned into his eyelids. but it was impossible. now he noticed everything. the slight sway of your hips when you walked past his desk. the way your fingers sometimes absentmindedly played with the hem of your blouse. the shape of your mouth when you sipped your coffee. it wasn’t fair. it wasn’t fucking fair.

he needed a release. he needed you.

so one evening, as you both packed up your things, the office mostly deserted except for a few lingering coworkers, he cleared his throat and said casually, "hey, y/n... you doing anything tonight?"

you looked up, a little surprised — it was rare for doyoung to initiate anything that wasn’t strictly about work. "not really," you said, slinging your bag over your shoulder. "why?"

he shrugged, forcing nonchalance. "thought maybe we could grab a drink. just... you know, decompress a bit. long week."

you smiled — a soft, genuine smile he didn’t usually get to see — and nodded. "yeah, sure. that sounds nice."

it was a simple moment.

ordinary.

but his pulse hammered against his ribs like he had just won something forbidden.

the bar he picked wasn’t far from the office. dimly lit, cozy, tucked away enough that no one from work would accidentally stumble in. he watched you under the low lights, the way you peeled off your jacket, revealing more of your arms — more of that tattoo — and he felt his mouth go dry.

you ordered something sweet. he ordered something strong.

conversation started off light. movies, weekend plans, the weather.

but as the drinks flowed, the distance between you seemed to shrink. your laughter got a little looser. your glances lingered a little longer. he leaned in, elbows brushing yours on the tiny table, and he could smell the soft, clean scent of your shampoo. he could imagine burying his face in it, breathing you in as he pressed your body against his.

"so," he said after a pause, voice a little rougher now, "you live alone, right?"

you nodded, swirling the ice in your glass. "yeah. just me and my two little troublemakers."

"the cats," he said, a smile tugging at his mouth.

"mhm." you tilted your head, curious. "you remembered?"

he chuckled lowly. "hard to forget."

especially when those cats had haunted his fucking dreams alongside your lace-clad body.

you leaned in a little closer without realizing it, your knee brushing his under the table.

doyoung’s hand twitched, desperate to touch, desperate to confirm that you were real, that you were here, that he wasn’t losing his goddamn mind.

"you ever feel like people don’t really know you?" you said suddenly, voice soft, almost vulnerable. "like... you have this whole side of you no one even sees?"

you didn’t know what you were doing to him.

or maybe you did.

he set his glass down, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

"i think," he said slowly, voice dropping, "some sides are meant for only a few lucky ones to see."

the air between you crackled, thick and heavy.

you swallowed hard, heart beating too fast.

you hadn’t realized how close you had leaned in. how close he was.

or maybe you had.

the space between you buzzed like an invisible wire pulled too tight. every time you shifted, his eyes flickered down, tracing the subtle lines of your body. you were painfully aware of it — of him — of the way his fingers curled against the edge of his glass, the way his jaw tensed whenever your knees brushed under the table.

you sipped your drink slowly, tongue darting out to catch a drop at the corner of your mouth. his gaze followed the movement like a man starved. you could practically feel the heat rolling off his body in thick, stifling waves.

the conversation faltered. it didn’t need words anymore. everything was felt.

"y/n," he said finally, voice low, rough around the edges.

you looked up, heart skipping.

there was something dangerous in his eyes. something that told you he wasn’t going to play pretend anymore.

"those cats of yours," he started, almost casually. "i swear i’ve seen them somewhere else before."

you smiled, slow, almost coy. "yeah?"

he leaned in, his breath brushing your cheek. you could smell the bourbon on him, feel the warmth of it seeping into your skin.

"yeah," he murmured. "in a... very specific place."

a pause. a deliberate, loaded silence.

you set your glass down carefully, the ice clinking sharp in the quiet. "where, doyoung?" you asked, voice sweet, teasing. but your heart was hammering against your ribs, adrenaline and arousal twining together into something electric.

he watched you, pupils blown wide, fingers flexing like he was holding himself back from reaching across the table and dragging you into him.

"onlyfans," he said finally. barely a whisper. a confession.

the word hung between you, scandalous and heavy.

you didn’t flinch. didn’t look away.

instead, you tilted your head, a slow, sinful smile curling your lips.

"miss erotica," he said, the name coming out like a prayer he had whispered a hundred times in the dark.

you leaned in, so close your knees were fully pressed together now under the table.

your voice dropped to a purr.

"so," you breathed, "you’re a fan of lingerie, huh?"

his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

"yeah," he rasped. "fuck, y/n... more than a fan."

the confession hung in the air like smoke, sweet and thick.

you let the moment stretch, savoring the way his body tensed, the way he shifted like he was seconds away from snapping.

"lace?" you murmured. "stockings? garters?"

he nodded, unable to look away from you, like you were the center of his whole fucking universe.

"all of it," he said, voice almost breaking. "i... i can’t get enough."

you licked your lips slowly, leaning back just a little to give him a view of the curve of your body under your blouse. teasing. tempting.

his fingers twitched like he was holding onto the last shred of his self-control.

"poor thing," you whispered. "must be hard, wanting something so bad and not being able to touch it."

his hands fisted in his lap, knuckles white.

"y/n," he warned, voice wrecked, pleading.

you smiled, wicked and soft all at once.

you leaned closer, so your mouth was right by his ear, your breath warm against his skin.

"what if," you whispered, so quietly it was almost obscene, "i modeled for you?"

he sucked in a sharp breath, his whole body shuddering like he’d been struck.

you pulled back just enough to see his face — the desperation there, the hunger, the need.

"real life," you said, your fingers ghosting along the hem of your skirt under the table, just enough for him to catch the motion. "no screens. no distance."

he was trembling. you were trembling.

the world outside the little cocoon of the bar didn’t exist anymore.

there was only this — the heavy beat of your hearts, the unbearable pull between you, the promise of something dirty and sweet hanging in the air.

"you’d model for me," he said, disbelieving, wrecked.

"if you’re a good boy," you teased, wicked and tender all at once.

he let out a low, broken noise, half-growl, half-whimper, and you knew — you knew — that tonight was going to change everything.

you barely made it through the door before he was on you.

doyoung kicked the door shut behind him, hands everywhere, breath hot against your skin as he pressed you against the wall.

"fuck," he muttered against your neck, voice low and trembling with restraint. "you drive me insane."

you laughed softly, threading your fingers into his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan.

"patience," you whispered. "you still want me to model for you, don't you?"

he pulled back, eyes dark and wild, chest heaving.

"yeah," he rasped. "fuck, yeah. show me, baby. show me everything."

you slipped out from under him, sauntering toward your bedroom with a slow sway of your hips, feeling his gaze burning into you.

you could hear him curse under his breath, could hear the faint clink of his belt as he adjusted himself, trying to keep it together.

you left the door slightly ajar, just enough for him to peek in as you changed.

slowly, languidly, you stripped down, sliding the soft fabric of your blouse over your head, shimmying your skirt down your thighs.

you chose one of your best sets — a delicate black lace bralette and matching thong, the garter belt hugging your hips, sheer thigh-high stockings clipping into place with a soft click.

you posed in front of the mirror for a moment, adjusting the straps, making sure everything sat just right, teasing yourself as much as you were teasing him.

"come in," you called sweetly.

the door creaked open and there he was, standing there, jaw clenched, eyes practically black.

his hands fisted at his sides like he was seconds from losing every ounce of control.

you turned slowly, letting him take you in — the curve of your ass in the sheer lace, the tight lines of the garter straps, the soft swell of your breasts barely contained by the delicate fabric.

"holy fuck," he breathed, voice wrecked. "you're gonna kill me."

you sauntered up to him, slow and deliberate, your fingers trailing up his chest, feeling the tremor beneath your touch.

"sit," you commanded, voice like velvet.

he obeyed without hesitation, sinking onto the edge of your bed, legs spread wide, hands gripping the sheets.

you climbed onto his lap, straddling one strong thigh, feeling the hard muscle flex beneath you.

your soaked panties pressed against him as you started to rock your hips, slow, grinding motions that sent sparks shooting up your spine.

his hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your skin, guiding your movements as you rode his thigh like it was the only thing keeping you alive.

"fuck, look at you," he groaned, tilting his head back, eyes fluttering shut for a second before snapping back to you, dark and hungry. "so fucking pretty, so fucking wet."

you rolled your hips against his thigh, your soaked panties dragging delicious friction along the hard muscle beneath you.

doyoung watched you with a look that was pure hunger, his hands locked on your waist, controlling your pace, forcing you to grind harder, deeper.

"fuck, baby," he rasped, his voice a wreck of desire. "you’re fucking yourself on my thigh like a desperate little thing."

you whimpered, grinding harder, feeling the rough fabric of his pants rubbing right against your clit through the thin lace.

"please," you gasped, not even sure what you were begging for anymore — more, faster, him.

he growled low in his throat, grabbing you by the hips and flipping you onto the bed in one smooth, desperate motion.

"can't wait anymore," he muttered, tugging his shirt over his head, undoing his belt with trembling fingers. "need you. now."

you spread your legs eagerly, watching him through heavy-lidded eyes as he shed the rest of his clothes, his cock thick and leaking, curving up toward his stomach.

he crawled over you, one hand sliding up your thigh, tracing the garter strap, hooking his fingers under it and snapping it playfully against your skin, making you gasp.

"keep it on," he ordered, voice dark and low. "i wanna fuck you in this."

you nodded frantically, hips canting up toward him, desperate for any kind of friction.

he lined himself up and pushed in slowly, groaning deep in his chest as he filled you inch by agonizing inch.

"so tight," he breathed, forehead pressed against yours. "so fucking good."

you clung to him, nails digging into his back, moaning brokenly as he started to move — slow at first, grinding deep inside you, savoring every second.

the lace scraped lightly against his skin, the garters tugging with every thrust, the whole thing messy and desperate and perfect.

he fucked you like he couldn't get close enough, couldn't get deep enough, like he wanted to crawl inside your skin and live there.

then he slowed, grinding deep instead of thrusting, fucking you slow and filthy, making you feel every inch of him.

he pulled back just enough to look down at you, his cock still buried deep inside, his hands rough on your hips.

you cried out, legs trembling, the pressure building fast and brutal.

"wanna see you cum," he growled, fucking you harder, faster, making the bed creak beneath you. "wanna feel you."

your orgasm hit like a freight train, ripping through you with a force that left you gasping, clinging to him as you shattered apart.

his voice was low, almost a growl against your ear: "where do you want it, baby? tell me."

you whimpered, meeting his eyes, feeling the heat of your own desperation mirrored in his gaze.

"on my face and... my lingerie," you whispered, voice shaking with need. "i want you to ruin it."

his eyes darkened impossibly further, his thrusts turning erratic, brutal.

"fuck. fuck, you’re gonna kill me," he muttered, pulling out at the last second.

he pulled out quickly, fisting his cock with a few rough strokes, and then he was painting your face with hot, sticky ropes of cum, groaning your name like a prayer.

you moaned softly, licking a drop from your lip, watching him through hooded eyes.

but he wasn't done yet.

he stroked himself back to hardness almost immediately, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your stomach.

you arched your back for him, showing off the perfect view — the lace barely covering your ass, the garters framing your curves beautifully.

he jerked himself hard and fast, the obscene sounds of slick skin filling the room, until he came again, thick and messy across your lower back and ass, the cum soaking into the delicate lace.

you stayed like that for a moment, panting, letting it drip down your skin.

you watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, heart hammering, feeling every hot splash land on you, branding you, claiming you exactly the way you asked for.

he collapsed onto the couch beside you, chest heaving, watching you with a dazed, satisfied grin.

you lay there for a moment, catching your breath, feeling the slick mess cooling on your skin, the ruined lace clinging to you obscenely.

and then, with a wicked little smile, you reached for your phone. you angled it perfectly — the sticky, creamy mess glistening across your stomach, the black lace sheer against your flushed skin.

click.

you uploaded it to your onlyfans with a simple, filthy caption:

"he made me a mess tonight."

hours later, doyoung sat on his own bed, phone in hand, heart pounding.

he opened your page and there it was — your body, still trembling, still glistening with the evidence of his obsession.

his cock twitched violently, already leaking, already aching.

he groaned low in his throat, unable to stop himself from palming his cock roughly, needing relief, needing you all over again.

he came in seconds, harsh and hot across his stomach, your name a broken whisper on his lips.

and he knew.

he was never going to survive you.

[nyssasorbit]

A few new Taiga theories...

This is more of a casual post just to share some thoughts that came up as I went through the new episode.

It was mentioned before that Taiga was a great student, but seemed to suddenly go haywire and possibly have his memory problems a few months prior to the game's start. I wonder if that is the exact moment where the time loop begins. Maybe Taiga doesn't necessarily have foresight or "multiple Taigas" in him—like how the mesmer matches don't affect the MC, maybe the looping time doesn't effect Taiga, so he's seen and lived every single loop himself. But everyone around him loops back living life as if everything had been normal and the loop never happened, so they see Taiga "suddenly" lose his mind when in reality, he's just gone back to the same point again out of who knows how many times.

Maybe his memory problems are because he simply has so many time loops to swim through in his brain. They're probably not exactly the same every time, but close enough that he can "come back to reality" during things like missions and get the group out of there alive. And/or, maybe he's willingly dissociating as a coping method from all the trauma he's endured thus far. The trauma itself may also be damaging him mentally to aid in dissociation/memory loss.

It seems like the time loops are pretty damn close to similarity though. Taiga seemed to be capable of predicting what the Hundun's next move would be despite the fact that everything behind the door was allegedly randomly-generated. He commented a few times how some had changed (I assume he meant from alternate timelines), but still managed to act on others as he usually does—as if he already knew what would happen. Not that we don't know this already, but that's probably also why Taiga's decided to be a loose cannon. Because he's probably tried behaving every possible way he could think of before with no change in results. If his prologue line is not the very first loop of time, then that probably is his question to the player: tell me what to do because nothing I try ever works [and I want this to end]. So he knows that no matter how he acts or what he fucks up, it really will hurtle towards the same ending, because everything looks the exact same as the hundred(s) of timeloops he's already lived through.

I think Taiga uses his luck to predict if the future will be the same. Like he did with Haru, he flipped a coin and vouched his stigma on it. I think he does the same too with the future—flips a coin, plays a round, does something that he can use to invoke his stigma. "Heads, the future is the same and the world ends, Tails, we can stop it/something changes/etc." but it lands on heads every single time. I think that weighs on his hopelessness because he knows how reliable his own stigma is. And maybe so late into the game, with nothing any different from before, his coins still landing on heads, he's chosen to simply endure until it starts all over again. He just wants to be carefree and happy until he once again has to go through all hell breaking loose, then time resets and it starts once more. Connecting this to his memory loss and back to the memory anomaly from the first Sinostra episode, perhaps he's also "gambling" away his memories in hopes he can change things. Maybe he's using memories as his "bet". Maybe that's also why he gambles as much as he does. Partially to sacrifice the horrible memories that plague him so he can live in blissful ignorance like everyone around him for a little while, and partially to wager them in attempt to change the future. Maybe Taiga's gambling over the months wasn't just him shutting down and ignoring the problem, maybe that was his last-ditch effort to do something before the imminent tragedy and reset.

Either he hasn't told anyone because he fears what may happen if he does, or he thinks they won't believe him, or more likely: Taiga has tried to tell everyone before what's happening. But that either made things worse or it simply did nothing to stop the time loop. He mostly seems to not act unless there's an emergency or someone else provides information he can act off of first, so I'm willing to believe that things become much worse if people are aware of the time loop. Or perhaps, the loop resets much sooner if he tries to make people aware.

There's a few options: 1. There is no known cure for the Kyklos's curse. Because if there was, Taiga could have enacted it by now and perhaps put an end to the time loop. Or, 2. Taiga knows the cure for the Kyklos's curse, but he's choosing to let the MC change either out of hopelessness or perhaps thinking something can be done after the fact. 3. A specific cure exists, but Taiga has not become aware of it through any timeline he's lived through. The MC is cured every time, so he has no concern about it because he know she'll be fine. 4. A specific cure exists, but even curing MC early on in the timeline does not stop their fate, thus he remains hands-off with the matter until a solution is presented by someone other than himself.

I think Taiga knows who the spy is, but like with everything else, he can't out them outright. It's not that he's trying to figure out who it is, but rather he's trying to get others to reach that conclusion. Maybe he thinks finding them is one of the keys to breaking the time loop.

I think Hyde is the major key factor for shit hitting the fan in the Worse Possible Endings for each time loop, but Taiga knows he can't do anything to the man without serious repurcussions.

I think Taiga has died in multiple different ways in different time loops. It's why he doesn't fear consequences, pain, or death itself. I think that's part of why he doesn't act against the powers that be more either, because he knows he and possibly others will suffer if he tries. We know "Darkwick has eyes everywhere" but we're now aware that Hodge and Podge may have some ability to tap into this sight, if not tapping into or otherwise sharing this ability with Hyde himself. (Perhaps that's why Hyde covers his eyes, so he can process his all-seeing vision without confusing it for what he could see in front of him with his own eyes? Or perhaps it only works if he covers his eyes. Theoretically, that means he could still see his surroundings perfectly fine, he just may view himself from a third-person perspective.) If this is true, then Taiga's hands really are tied in regards to trying to do anything. They are under constant surveillance by Hyde, other staff, possibly other ghouls, and seemingly a few anomalies thrown into the mix. There aren't many opportunities where he could fully act without being caught.

This is a bit more out there, but perhaps Hyde is also aware of the time loops. That could be another reason Taiga doesn't go against him, because he knows that Hyde isn't going to stop whatever he's doing as well. And what Hyde is doing may also be his own "research" into various methods he could take to stop the loop, or just seeing what triggers time to loop again out of morbid curiosity. That could be how and why Hyde got into the position he's in, but if that would be true, he's ironically a little more insane than Taiga.

At least when he's being sensible, Taiga is ironically the only character we can truly trust, simply because of the fact that he knows so much and there's clearly some little part of him that doesn't want things to end like they always do, or otherwise to go through yet another damn loop.

[fierce-little-miana]

I took a bit too long to answer and now I have two interesting posts to come back to! Thankfully I think I can make a coherent answer to both of you for most of it.

Let's start with the part of the answer which is for @koto-wari: so it's not just me? Chizuru has a bit more bite in Fuukaden than in the original game? I really like how she very visibly doesn't like Miki and it is 1) obvious? 2) she kind of voices it out loud to his face (in a very Chizuru way)? Love that for our best girl. She is allowed to have a work nemesis. After all, Harada gets to have Takeda.

As for Kaoru and him being raised by the Nagumos and dressing as a woman. I think I have to try to establish a timeline here.

First you are right Kotowari, I don't think there is anything in canon that specified exactly how Kaoru came to be in the "care" of the Nagumo clan. From what I gathered from canon (but some routes I haven't played might give more details) and from what you are saying I guess we can agree that Kaoru was entrusted (as in "entrusted by someone", and I don't see who it could have been besides Kodo) to the Nagumos who thought they were getting a Yukimura girl.

From that, I extrapolated that the Nagumos knew about Kaoru and Chizuru and thought they were getting Chizuru, but you are right they could have also believed that both twins were girls (and Kaoru is a really believable girl name too) and just discovered that Kaoru was a boy after they had agreed to shelter him. I did not run across anything in canon that went against any of those headcanons. The thing that is undoubtly true is that the Nagumos discovered that Kaoru was not a girl after they got him, and I tend to believe they did so too late to try to get back at the person who had entrusted Kaoru to them (while we don't know a lot about them in game, the Nagumos do seem to have a bad reputation).

Which leads me to three possible scenari on how Kaoru came to be in their care:

Kaoru was in the known of letting the Nagumos think they were getting a girl and pretended to be his sister for a while (when I say he was "in the known" I mean in the way a 7-years-old can understand how this would unfold for him).

Kaoru was in the known of letting the Nagumos think they were getting a girl and pretended to be a girl for a while.

Kaoru was not in the known and discovered that the Nagumos were hoping for a girl at the same time his new "gardians" discovered he was a boy (which is somehow maybe even more terrifying to imagine).

As for why exactly Kaoru dresses as a woman, I think there is no clear answer because there is no clear timeline for his life with the Nagumos.

What we know for sure is: the Yukimura village is destroyed and its inhabitants massacred in 1854, the twins are 7 years old (by our modern standards). Chizuru and Kaoru are separated not long after, because they don't grow up together and Chizuru has absolutely no memory of her brother. So probably the same year. The Nagumos think they are getting a girl, but discover it is not the case after they get Kaoru. Neither Chizuru nor Kodo ever seem to face any issue because of this (before the beginning of the game), so I personally think Kodo had had the time to disappear into the human world and to start re-inventing his life.

Chizuru meets her brother for the first time in eleven years in 1865. He dresses as a woman and use the name Nagumo. Chizuru does not recognize him, nor remember him at all. His exact status in the Nagumo clan at this point is unknown. In Souji's route (in Hakuouki: Stories of the Shinsengumi), he pops up routinely doing some nefarious actions up until he reveals his identity in chapter 3 (if my memory serves me well) in 1867 when he makes Okita drink the Ochimizu. Kaoru is dressed as a man (but already in westernish clothes), is working with Kodo and implies he is the head of the Nagumo clan claiming that he has killed everyone standing between him and this position of power. Both him and Chizuru are 20 years old. From then on, he will never dress as woman ever again.

The thing is, from the routes I have played, I have no idea what happened to Kaoru and when beside this. The only thing we know for sure from what he says is that the Nagumos abused him to an extent which is unknown ("only" psychological abuse? Physical abuse? Experimentation?) but left him as an extremely unstable and violent young man. (the screenshot I gave a link to in a previous answer to this post, the one I shared above and this one all point to this without a doubt, also his later voiced philosophy of "this world rewards the vicious and punishes the innocent" also gave me this impression).

When and why did he start dressing as a woman? I have no idea. Was he forced to do so by the Nagumos (forcing a boy to dress as a woman in a patriarchal society is a way of humiliating him)? Did he decide to do it on his own to approach Chizuru while appearing less menacing (giving him more room for maneuvering because who would think a woman could ever be a threat)? I don't know.

In a similar fashion, is he already in control of the Nagumo clan in 1865, or did that happen between 1865 and 1867? (the Nagumo clan is based in the Tosa domain, an important player in the Bakumatsu period, and as @talesofedo could explain better than me, neither 1865 nor 1867 are innocent date in its History, Kaoru could have used a human political conflict to enact his own internal coup). Did he do that on his own? Was it planned with Kodo? Did Kodo contact the Nagumos before Kaoru got control of the clan (reminder that Kodo goes AWOL and deserts the Bafuku side at the end of 1863 but Kaoru would only be 15/16 at this point) or did Kaoru seek him out after his coup?

(maybe other routes give more info? Maybe Ryoma's one? If it is the case don't hesitate to tell me!)

All of that to say, that how Kaoru feels about dressing as woman is very much up for interpretation. It is however undoubtly a narrative parallel to his sister dressing as a man. I agree with you @liliththunder that it is very probably linked to the Nagumos (I personally think they made him continue to dress like that as a mockery and that wasn't his decision but that's just my headcanon) since he stops it the minute he doesn't have to pretend he is something he is not, and also connected to how he feels about his sister (Kaoru is obsessed with her to a degree where bondaries are blurred and he is also jealous of her, so it is not impossible that a part of him would have want to have what she has by being like her).

Personally, since it connects both twins to a certain gender non-conformity (which is important to me), I like keeping a focus on Kaoru displaying "traditionally feminine behaviors" without a care in the world no matter the AU I am working on.

Sorry for the terminally long post 😅.

The anime and the movie did Chizuru dirty for me😭 cuz at least in the game Chizuru for me at this sorta of young boyish look, I always thought if she more smart with her disguise and work on her voice more she could pass off as a young boy much longer not get so easily discovered.

Also it's implied that Chizuru (since she's a Oni) has some sort sixth sense (or spidey sense lol) I haven't play the game in a long time and forgetten most of it but does it get brought up much? like the developer can't introduce such a dope ability and not make it be used at all?

So this is part of two very old Hakuouki asks I got a lifetime ago and I am so sorry to only come back to them now… Anon I hope you are still around to see this answer and I am very very sorry about this.

I like Chizuru in the movie and the anime, still 😅.

I don’t think her disguise is that unbelievable. Sure it is not the most convincing disguise I have ever seen (and plenty of people who do interact with her are not fooled: Hijikata, Saito, Okita, Sannan…) but I think it is enough to fool bystanders, which its actual purpose (hence, why guys like Ito are actual threats to her safety, because they can’t really be kept at a "safety distance").

I think to judge Chizuru’s disguise one must remember how gender (as a social category) is about assigned roles and presentation to the outside world. A woman is supposed to act and dress a certain way, a man a different way. While Edo era clothes were less gendered than European clothes of the same era, there were some differences that allowed the onlooker to immediately pick women and men apart (notably the hairstyle, but also some clothes were strictly gendered like haori for example, etc.). In the same way, the way to pick a man apart from a boy was also through presentation rather than being strictly an age category (boys had bangs, men shaved their head, etc.). Of course, some people defied those social constraints and there were categories of people who were also allowed to toy the line between genders (male actors who played female roles, kagema, but they were a bit on the "outskirts" of polite society and also they could be on the receiving side of a lot of scrutiny because of this).

The main things that make Chizuru’s disguise work in universe is that and the fact that people will see what they want to see. A woman is not supposed to be dressed and act (carry a sword around, travel on her own) like she does. So she must be a young man, end of story. Thinking that a woman might be able to do all that (dress as man and behave like one) is more challenging (and dangerous) to the very structure of society than thinking that Chizuru is just an effeminate young man. So the onlooker who sees her pass by might, you know, check her out twice because she looks and sounds very feminine but hey what’s more likely? That the Shinsengumi has a young woman disguised as a young man running around with patrol and gave her a sword for some reason or that the Shinsengumi has a weirdly effeminate page? Especially considering that effeminate/beautiful young men were not exactly unheard of in Japan at the time…

At the end of the day, Chizuru does not need to do much more for her disguise to work on its intended target (onlookers) and doing more might actually raise more suspicions (working on her voice more and speaking with a voice that might sound fake would draw more attention than simply being high-pitched).

As for your question about her “spidey sense”, you are touching the thing I think Hakuouki handles the worst: the vague and incoherent canon around Oni lore (or all the supernatural lore). Oni powers are not well-defined, change from one route to another, and are inconstant in nature. In the routes I have played as for now, I don’t remember Chizuru having any kind of sixth sense, expect maybe knowing a bit in advance when they might be a problem with rasetsu and even that might be just me misinterpreting the tension being built during tense scenes, lol.  

[shalom-iamcominghome]

This is my g-d. There are many like Him, but this one is mine.

[kimtaegis]

I’m feeling quite sad about how much the active bts fandom on tumblr has shrunk and/ or how selective the community has become regarding content interaction. I’ve heard people pointing out a clique-building here lately, and while I’m well aware of closer mutual circles existing – and I can only speak on behalf of my friend group here – these pretty much develop naturally when there’s just no one else who reacts, reblogs from and talks to you anymore except for these handful of people. I don’t like that some people perceive these “cliques” as “exclusive”, for example to content creators only. that’s bullshit; it’s certainly not great to have only other cc’s support your work because they personally know how much time and effort it takes. also, knowing how lovely most of these people are, you’d get immediately followed back and showered with love too as soon as you’d even show a speckle of kindness on a regular basis, regardless of whether you make gifs yourself or not. ccs dedicating sets to each other isn’t a sign of exclusivity, but rather us holding onto and appreciating people who still give us at least some motivation to create and post in the first place anymore, because there’s quite literally no one else left by now.

[orangeearlgray]

Me when I think my dad is cool and admirable

[star-max]

Hate when something is somewhat associated with a character and the character themselves show no interest or even acknowledge it in it in canon, but in fanon that's what everyone makes their favorite thing ever/only personality trait

[wookgerine]

Love that they take Bella with the gym with them all the time

[ms-demeanor]

Sometimes college professors like to hop on my posts lamenting the sorry state of syllabi these days and joke about how they haven't thought that far ahead in the course themselves, or talk about how they struggle to complete a schedule for their students.

With all due respect, that's your job. If you can't do your job, you should have a different job. If you need help, ask your colleagues or your department chair or *someone* because I know that professors aren't given a hell of a lot of education on how to educate, so you probably *need* help.

But every single time I make one of those posts I get anywhere from ten to thirty messages, replies, reblogs, and asks say "oh man, that's exactly why I had to drop out of school; I couldn't keep up with the assignments because I didn't know when they were due until the week they were due."

I have been a college student in three separate decades, and "not having a schedule of assignments in the syllabus" is new to my experience. That shit didn't fly in the 2000s or 2010s and I think it likely has to do with professors being overly reliant on apps.

AT A MINIMUM your syllabus should have:

Contact information (including preferred method of contact) for the professor

Office Hours

Grading Policy

Assignment schedule.

Your assignment schedule doesn't necessarily need to have the exact page numbers of every reading or a full assignment sheet for each project, but it should have things like:

December 1st - Major Project 3 second draft due December 9th - Quiz 10 December 12th - Major Project 3 final draft due December 15th - Final Exam

If you end up presenting a more thorough schedule with readings and homework later, that is acceptable to present a week or two into the semester but it is absolutely insane to me that students these days don't know what homework they're going to have to get done over Thanksgiving break during the first couple weeks of class.

If I had three professors at once who didn't give me a schedule, how on earth would I know if I was going to have to read three chapters of a novel, take a midterm and turn in two stats homework assignments, and complete a history research paper the same week that I'm planning to travel to see family? If I'm aware of this from the beginning of the semester I can make sure not to pick up extra shifts, or I can plan to leave a day later to accommodate the midterm, or I can start working on the paper early to complete it before the due date but if I don't know what's going to be due when, I'm going to have a big problem.

If you don't give your students a schedule you are communicating that you don't care about their schedule, and that you think it's their responsibility to contort their life (and their job, and their other classes) around your class, and honestly my advice to students in that situation is "drop in the first week and pick up another class". That's actually part of why I recommend signing up for one more class than you can really manage - if you get a professor whose class looks like it's going to be a disaster because they don't have a schedule, you can bail before the withdrawal period and get a refund for the class.

I'm only in one class this semester but the professor's response has fully dropped me into "Fuck it, I guess I'll fail" mode and I don't even know if I can pull myself out of my current D grade because I don't know how many assignments we have left in the semester.

This is a shitty way to run a class. If you can't do better than this, you shouldn't be running a class.

[running-in-the-dark]

-

[icewindandboringhorror]

I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :

-

(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )

[replicantdeviancy]

“Commandeering - that’s a name for it.” The little quip came complete with a cheerful laugh from the younger male. There was no harm to it, as the both of them well knew, as it was a dig towards a shared ancestry. The detective was certain that his own family hadn’t ventured across the pond for centuries, but the longer James spent with him, the greater the desire to be the first to change that. He wanted to take that leap, excited over the pleasant imagery running through his mind which represented a possible & desired future. Connor wasn’t one for bars or particularly lively spaces, but that all consuming want to let loose & allow somebody else to take complete control lingered, magnified as their conversation continued. He imagined unanticipated little thrills provided by a man who held surprisingly firm to his youth in spite of the grey creeping into his hairline, destinations which were both blessedly mundane & exotic at once, & late nights spent filled with pleasures of the body & hushed exchanges of intellectualism.

All of it, every bit sounded marvelous to the detective. He wondered if he might have a chance to meet James’ family, if the man were so inclined, or if the priest might introduce his younger companion to his friends. He must have had some that still remained in his hometown, those whom had never left. Much like Connor, himself. True, he was technically from a suburb just north of the city proper, but he & his brothers had been born in Detroit. Most people didn’t usually leave the place they were from, often choosing employment & taking up residence close to family. He supposed James was the exception, though Connor had yet to broach the question of why. What made the priest choose to devote himself to the church? To become an exorcist, whatever that specifically meant in this modern age.

He might have asked, but the naughty old priest had him easily distracted with culinary chatter & conjuring up delectable visuals of making the pretty detective into a savory meal of his own. As it was, if James kept looking at him that way, with those charmingly beautiful eyes staring into his soul, Connor would have happily let him put that smirking mouth of his anywhere he liked. The enthusiasm towards a private liaison in a confessional seemed to be a mutual one, though Connor wondered if it would have been James’ first time trying something so brazen. Intuition told the detective that it was, & that made it all the more exciting. Already a little flustered in the best of ways, the small instances of playful chastising had Connor smiling that sweet, shy smile of his as color bloomed against his cheekbones. The priest certainly knew just how to get to him, draw elation & intrigue from the younger man so perfectly, one might have again played with that musing of soulmates. As though they had always known one another, that interest was uncompromising, desire unwavering. Connor felt himself tugged towards James, his every thought beginning & ending with the priest since the two of them had met.

It was a little frightening, wanting someone this badly, wanting to be with them, in their presence, after only such a short amount of time. It was something more powerful than himself & Connor wanted to see where it took him. It was the reason he questioned his date on his intentions for the future, as he worried this might be something fleeting. That fear threatened to crush him, & a slow realization overcame that warned this was all too fast. But when James’ sultry manner shifted into somber sincerity & that hand reached to touch, resting upon his forearm, Connor couldn’t force himself to fight that subtle yet powerful gravitational pull. He saw the change in James as those simple questions sunk in like a lead weight, forcing him to confront something in himself that had yet to come to light. He saw guilt, perhaps even regret. But regret for what? Had his assumptions been accurate after all? The priest said that his continued presence ‘depended’, but not on what. There were speculations of further spiritual unrest within the congregation, something else pertaining to the Moore case that hadn’t been addressed. Things outside of the detective’s usual wheelhouse, likely something he wouldn’t understand.

He wanted to ask, but that touch compelled him in another direction & suddenly he was brushing all of his theories aside to give James all of his attention. Only passively interested in food in the moment, he set his fork down & reached for his hand, taking it into a gentle yet firm grasp. That sorely missed connection restored, Connor felt a little bit better. Still, the promise not to disappear on him like a ghost in the darkness failed to quell the ache centering in his chest when Connor could see that his companion was holding back. James was keeping something from him, protecting him with ignorance, as if to know would be such a burden upon him. Things the detective ought to leave alone, contradictory to his eager & curious mind. There was a brief contemplation, a moment of eyes locked in which the younger man wanted to press James for more information, coax a confession out of him as he had before. But pushing him wasn’t going to accomplish anything. This wasn’t an interrogation. The end goal wasn’t to ascertain a guilty party. He just wanted to keep this man close, keep James all to himself.

Was that desire childish when it was so obvious that James wanted him just the same?

“You better not,” he teased, a smile finally cracking his fretfully stoic exterior. “I wasn’t promoted this young because I’m just a pretty face. They don’t call me ‘deviant hunter’ for nothing.” A sly nod to his own impressive capabilities, as well as a hint of intention implied, served up with a cheeky wink. Still just a little somber, as that smile slowly grew wan, difficult to maintain. Connor wasn’t above doing a little detective work to track the man down if he did end up ghosting him. Absolutely deplorable, never something he had envisioned himself doing before, but this was different. This thing between them felt real - Connor longed so deeply for something true, for someone all his own. He wasn’t going to let go that easily.

His gaze fell towards their joined hands, lean digits moved to caress at knuckles, a warm palm, finally lacing their fingers once more. This felt better. It felt right. He stared a long moment in pensive introspection, & his visage reflected his inner thoughts. He could picture spending a few months gallivanting around Europe with this man, hopelessly & sublimely lost in a foreign culture with this single point of familiarity to ground & guide him. In equal measure, he could have spent forever at James’ side, or however long he would have him. He didn’t care if it was selfish. He had spent most of his life selflessly devoted to others; to strangers, family. It wasn’t out of the question to want something for himself. Pearly teeth worried the edge of his bottom lip, free hand softly drumming fingertips against the table’s surface beside his plate. 

Contemplative. Finally, he looked at James with shy, wanting eyes. “When we finish here… can I show you something?” A location that held meaning to him, one that he hoped might help cement a fondness for the city in James, & in turn, the boy who resided there. Somebody who would wait for him, who would crave his company & yearn for his return. “There’s a place we could go for a walk by the water, if you don’t mind the cold. I promise that it’s worth it.” By evening the view would be spectacular, though admittedly, there was an ulterior motive. Between the specifics of the case & the mild emotional anxiety that came with dating & the revelations therein, the detective needed a cigarette. He hoped that his date wouldn’t mind.

He knew the man was curious. How could he not be? Given his line of work and everything else that the priest had come to learn about him in the hours that they'd known one another, it seemed obvious that the younger male was a curious one, that he wouldn't let go until he had answers. Then again, he'd practically told him as much every time he'd tried to press the Brit for more information, trying to take that first step into his world rather than settle in one he'd been born into and grown up in. Now his foot was in the door, the veil lifted but there was still so much once he took his first step inside. Did he know that he'd barely even grazed the surface? That there was a whole mountain waiting for him if he didn't turn back. Would he even want to? Why did James get the feeling that the brunette would likely stay true to his word, he'd see everything through with the same resilience as he carried throughout his work. It wasn't a common trait these days, maybe it never had been, but that certain stubbornness for never giving in was certainly preferable when it came to James' world.

But for now, he was happy to just let the truth simmer, let Connor process it, let it truly sink in before he started to pile any more on top of him. People reacted differently, his own introduction had been less choice and more of a regrettable accident, having no idea what he'd been about to walk into, what it would open him up to for the rest of his life. That was when his fate had been sealed, a similar determination to Connor's that had made him want to keep going, follow in his father's work and do everything within his power to protect others from enduring the same horror for themselves. He wouldn't be able to save everyone, as much as he might wish it, but it was better than sitting back and doing nothing, pretending that he hadn't seen it, trying to go about his life desperate to forget every second of it.

No, he had to remember, he needed to remember. For his parents, for other people and maybe even for himself. It reminded him why he was on that path in the first place, a necessary goal that would see him through even the darkest of times.

In the end, how much would he tell Connor? Everything? Bit by bit, piece by piece, let him into a side of the Brit that few others had ever been privy to aside from his old mentor? And would the American offer the same in return? Speak openly about himself? About the things he'd seen? The position his mind had cast him into when he closed his eyes? He'd already been given a glimpse and hadn't faltered, hadn't flinched, he wanted to see more, wanted to understand the man right down to his core and he'd offer the same in return if it was wanted.

"Part of the job, I'm afraid. You never know when someone might need a passage or two to get them through the day." Mostly, he'd used the knowledge to reassure himself, keep himself focused, if not a light tug to keep him on the right path if ever he strayed too far. Clearly, he wasn't quite as blindly devout as many of his peers, he didn't mind committing a few sins here and there, some lust in the bedroom, a little greed on his plate, he supposed it all added up, but as he always said to both himself and others, he just did what he thought was right, everything else was more akin to guidelines than actual rules in his eyes. Maybe he'd be higher up if he had stuck to the rules more sternly, if he really was a paragon of virtue like he was apparently meant to be -- - but where was the fun in that?

"Not the most engrossing read in the world, but some of it isn't half bad." He couldn't help but tease, imagining his mentor standing across from him and giving him a warning look as though he was about to get a sandal against the back of his head. Not that he really did that, but times had been different back then, a little slap to the ear wasn't entirely outside the realm of possibility and it was never with genuine malice, but more of a mocking startle than anything. Admittedly, he'd always found it rather amusing, like a naughty child who'd been caught trying to take a peek at their presents before Christmas morning. Something James had definitely done more than a few times in his youth. Though was that any real surprise given how he was now? The man's effortless cheek knew no bounds.

"Mm., late-night pub food and debauchery? Sounds like my idea of perfection." Why did that ring more true than it should? Although he really did like the thought of it. The two of them running off together for a while, James getting to take him back home, show him where he'd grown up, the city that had moulded him into the man he was now. What about introducing him to his old friends? Taking him along to their local pub whose walls the northerner could still perfectly describe from memory. Mainly because the dents were still there from his youth, a few scratches here and there from the more merry nights that would end with the group stumbling down the street singing to their heart's content. Were they too old for that now? Or would Connor simply laugh at the side of a group of middle-aged people regressing back to their youths once they were all together again in an all too familiar place? Would he get a taste of what it had been like?

A part of James wanted that for him. He could see that it hadn't been the life that the detective had for himself, it couldn't hurt to let him take a sneak peek at it, right? Perhaps he was getting a little too ahead of himself.

"Well, there's that. We Brits are known for commandeering a few dishes here and there." That was an understatement, but one that the Briton could utter with a genuine sense of amusement. For the most part, he found that they tended to borrow things and put their own British spin on it, the likes of local Chinese takeaways being the perfect example. It hadn't been until he'd eaten real Chinese food that he'd realised that the stuff that was served in the UK was practically alien to authentic stuff. That, Connor would likely discover for himself if he did join the other man back to England, though perhaps more with the likes of McDonald's or KFC, and whatever other places that had started in the USA and found their way over to Britain. Countries always had their own ways of doing things, whether by the population's wants or to get by certain regulations. He really did have so many ideas for what he'd do with Connor, some more PG than others, yet the list was getting longer and longer by the minute.

"Although... can't say I've ever tried avocado toast or a pumpkin spice latte." He found that he was a rather simple man when it came to his toast or coffee, aside from when he was back in Rome where he'd treat himself on a regular basis with someone genuine Italian coffee. It wasn't quite the same as the kinds that places like Starbucks made, but he had a soft spot for them nonetheless. "Might have to try them sometime... next time I'm around for Halloween, maybe I'll grab myself a pumpkin spice latte like the rest of you hip young things." Yes, he was well aware of how old the last comment made him sound, deliberately uttering it that way as a wide smile swept across his face and he couldn't quite hold back a warm round of laughter, trying his best not to choke on his food in the meantime. "Either way... I'm pretty sure you're anything but simple, Connor." His voice lowered, deepening like a low hum that vibrated against his chest.

In those few moments, it was like they were completely alone, the whole world around them didn't matter, it wasn't even there as those sparkling blue eyes honed in on the man opposite. "Yeah?" Had James ever thought about what it would be like to be naughtily -- - intimate, with someone in the confessional? The proper thing to say was no, but the truth was definitely yes. Surprisingly, it was one of the few places where he'd never actually managed to score himself another few dozen sins. He didn't mind rectifying that with the right person though. "Tempting a priest, are we? For shame..." He purred with that devilish twinkle in his eyes. "No matter, you, me, the confessional... I'm sure we'll work something out." His mentor was definitely going to feel a disturbance after that remark, he was amusingly sure of it.

But then came a rather grounding question, one that the Englishman tended to keep away from. Mainly because most of his little dalliances had been just that, brief encounters to satiate his and someone's else desires for an evening of fun, but never daring to let them into his life, into his soul, into his heart. But for once the reality of it hit him, the thought of having to leave the US and return to Rome, seeing the back of Connor's head as he walked away, or even the crushing notion of the last time he'd see him before disappearing entirely. He was good at that, vanishing without a trace, but did he really want to do that with Connor? "Depends..." It was an honest answer, he never really knew how long he'd be somewhere, could be anything from a few days to a month or two. "This whole thing with our dearly departed Mr. Moore... there's more to it. It won't end just here and I'm not going anywhere until it's resolved." He didn't give much away, but it was an answer. Pausing, he put down his knife, settling it by his plate as a hand reached over, gentle long fingers wrapping around the American's lower arm. "I won't disappear on you. I promise."

[justevelynnnn]

Don’t fight it

Pairing: Viltrumite!fem reader x Mark Grayson

Summary: You’re a secret viltramite on earth. After Nolan abandoned his post and couldn’t complete his one mission you stepped in, trying to convince Mark, but you couldn’t convince him to join the right side so now you two have to fight. But what happens when you fight your boyfriend and the adrenaline rush leads to something other than fighting?

Warnings: Smut 🔞, Fighting, swearing, reader is a female, reader gets her nose broke

A/N: I wrote and edited this in a day😭 I just had the idea pop in my head and I just had to get it out.

“Mark.”

“NO.” Your boyfriend runs a hand through his hair. “God…literally fuck you.”

It was a hot day. You stood there with your arms crossed, starting to sweat through your tank top now. The heat was making this even more irritating. It had been about a week since Nolan left and it was right before his fake funeral. You decided to confront Mark outside his house…maybe try to convince him yourself to join the cause. Nolan clearly was a failure at that, oh well, but now it was your turn.

“Mark, stop that. You know I love you. You love me. This is for a good cause!”

“Shut the fuck up, seriously. First, my dad….now YOU?”

He steps towards you so you step back a bit. You don’t want to fight him. You’ve known him for years. He’s never yelled at you, got aggressive…anything. You’re not too shocked by the reaction though..sure, the timing could’ve been better, but now has to be the time. Nolan is a dirty fucking traitor who ran away because he KNEW you were coming for him for not doing what he was supposed to. And if not you then the others.

It was his idea after all. To get Mark to fall in love with you and slowly convince him to help take over the planet. His words to be exact actually was he got distracted with Debbie, had a child and became attached…and obviously so; but you ended up falling in love with Mark too. Not part of the plan. It was embarrassing to admit really but it is what it is. You cared for him, but god, why couldn’t he just open his stupid eyes? The Viltrumites just want to help. It’s the humans fault if they get killed trying to resist. Right?

“Listen to me… We just want to help. Surely, Nolan explained that to you, right?” You say reaching a hand out but Mark promptly slaps it away.

“So, WHAT?! You guys just want to kill people.” He spat, face reddening and his chest rising and falling quickly.

“No one wants to kill anyone. But..”

“BUT NOTHING.”

“Mark-” you’re cut off from him shoving you harshly. So harsh that you stumble back a bit.

You instinctively get into a fighting stance, but no…no you don’t want to fight him. Anything, but that please…

“What? What? Huh?! You’re gonna beat me to a pulp too?! Push me through a moving subway too!?”

“Please, stop Mark. Please, I don’t want to do this.”

Another harsh shove. It’d be one thing if you were a regular human girl, but you assumed him knowing what you are now changed things. He started to float in the air. No suit, just the clothes he showed up in. A white tee and gray sweat shorts.

You stare into his eyes almost pleading, slightly confused by what he’s not understanding. If he cared so much about these….people, then why not allow the Viltrumites to step in and help this race get stronger?

You only arrived here from Viltrum about 10 years ago. You didn’t age much since then but you still appeared middle school aged. After you were found and adopted by some random couple you were soon enrolled into Mark’s middle school. That’s how you met him and eventually how your “parents” met Nolan and Debbie.

You could tell instantly this was Omni man. He’d been here for years so they sent you to see what was up. Mark was almost a splitting image of him and you immediately put two and two together even at your young age. Saying he was embarrassed was probably an understatement when you revealed yourself to him one day when you were “13”.

Nothing was the same since that day.

Nothing.

You genuinely did not want to hurt Mark, but the way his fists were balled up and his teeth were gritted,….

“Mark-”, you started once again.

“Shut. Up.” His scarred lip curled into an intense frown now. This was it. It was too late to convince him to stop. He continued with, “I’m not going to let ANYONE conquer my planet. I don’t care about viltrumite anything! I don’t care if you guys are trying to “help”.”

You didn’t respond. What could you say? It was clear he wasn’t going to be convinced anytime soon. You sighed and balled your own fists.

“I guess every couple fights at least once, huh?” You sighed. It was really more to yourself, but you almost forgot Mark had just as good ears as you.

Immediately, “What!? You think this is funny?!”

You didn’t get to respond as he soon launched towards you, landing a punch to your gut. You struggle and gasped as it was unexpected. It wasn’t enough to leave a mark or anything. You knew that. It wasn’t Mark’s style to kill, especially when it came to anyone he cared about.

But, did he really just do that? Oh, Mark…

And so it begins. You spring into the air pulling him by the shirt. You were unexpectedly more angry than you thought. If only you could get him to actually fucking listen for once. And something about him saying this was his planet….ugh. He doesn’t understand how weak and useless these people are to space.

You flung him to the ground once you were high enough. He had fiercely thrashed and clawed against you while in the air, tearing your shirt a bit in the process but never striking you again. He still cared. Maybe he didn’t want to fight either.

He landed with a loud thud with a huge puff of air immediately followed.

“We don’t have to do this.” You yelled once more. “Don’t fight this…”

No response. You couldn’t see him through the smoke that came from the landing as it hadn’t cleared completely yet but you knew he wasn’t dead.

Then, a yell as he again rose from the smoke and attacked you once more. He’s throwing punches you can easily dodge, grunting and yelling like he’s giving it all when you know he’s not. He’s weak but not…this weak.

You block his punches, dodge, land a couple of your own… you were a skilled fighter of course, but Mark despite hardly training was just as good.

The air was thick with fury and rage as you guys are just spinning and fighting in the air now. One punch landed you right in the face with a sick cracking noise from your nose following soon after. Ouch.

He broke your nose…

He actually broke your nose.

You both briefly stop for a moment. A hand instinctively raising to your nose to see blood leaking and covering your hand. Your eyes flicker to Mark as you see him hesitate. He doesn’t move, but behind that still an angry expression was a hint of concern. You smiled through the pain which only forced the confusion to show more. You push him back to the ground once more once you realized he was caught off guard enough.

You landed next to him in the street as he sprung up once more and you two started fighting and wrestling once more. You knocked him over a couple of more times, getting swift jabs in on his sides, but he keep getting up just as quick. Blood from your nose splattered everywhere landing on the ground, on yourself and Mark as you keep throwing punches and even some kicks. You tackled him and pushed him through his living room window (thank god Debbie wasn’t home to see this) and you landed with him in his lap, your hands pressed on his chest.

“You ready to listen?” You panted. Blood still dripping from your nose on his chest. You ignored the pain catching your breath hoping he’d stop. He’s pretty bruised up now, wasn’t this enough?

He didn’t respond but he just stared into your eyes catching his own breath. You almost started to admire how he looked underneath you until he quickly started to push you off of him, succeeding and quickly reeling his hand back. You blocked it just in time standing and started throwing your own punches his way repeatedly.

You two knocked into furniture violently. He backed into the cabinets causing Debbie’s glasses to fall and loudly shatter behind, and around him with some shards flying and slicing you. You tripped over a potted plant at one point trying to dodge a punch and once you landed on the ground he was immediately straddling you now.

You’d push him off if he wasn’t so pretty and literally your boyfriend who you weren’t supposed to fucking love in the first place. His hair stuck to his face as it was covered and dripping with sweat, a black eye was slowly forming which you felt a bit guilty for and his lip was now cut again. He panted once more as his hands wrapped around your throat, not tight enough to choke you but…enough. Enough to turn that adrenaline into something else.

A moment passed again. The universe must be saying something for you both to end up in this position over and over. And Mark must be saying something because you see him getting hard through his shorts. You guessed his adrenaline was going somewhere else too.

And, Jesus, did he look hot all sweaty and angry above you like this. Your sweet silly Mark, now suddenly the complete opposite.

You struggled a bit, almost still wanting to fight until he muttered darkly, “What? It’s like you said, don’t fight it…”

You watched as the anger in his eyes slowly turned into lust. Dangerous lust. Watching as he bit his lip, and muscles flexing as he tightened his grip ever so slightly. You let a moan slip and it was over.

He leaned down immediately to kiss you. His lips were still soft just like before but now with that irony taste of blood. Something about him was just so addicting. The way he growled as you reached to grope him through his pants, the way his grip tightened more so now you did struggle to breathe… the way his tongue fought yours violently like he was trying to eat you. Like he wanted to taste your final breath.

When he let go you gasped for air. You weren’t weak so no time soon when you were going to signal him to let go but a part of you also enjoyed the thrill. He only let go to fling off his shirt and yank his pants down his thighs. You almost froze eyeing his physique especially glistening like this with his sweat.

“Take your fucking clothes off.” He says harshly staring you down while simultaneously stroking himself. His tone and behavior slightly caught you off guard as you froze, and he snapped you out of it quickly by grabbing your face with one hand fiercely and barking, “Now.”

You start pulling your tank off your head as he pulled your shorts off, soon following your panties.

“Why does your underwater have the fucking viltrumite symbol on it?” He snickered eying the damp fabric. He proceeded to wave it in your face but all you could see was his muscles flexing in his arms, veins popping. Adrenaline was still rushing through your own body, but you could tell the same was for Mark.

“Some of us actually appreciate our heritage.” You spit back smirking. You wished deep down you wore something more attractive though.

“All of you are so weird.” He said spitting directly on your cunt. You flinched and fought back a moan as he promptly started to slowly finger you right after.

“You can barely fight, what makes you think you can fuck?” You try to say it with confidence, still slightly passed at him but more at yourself for allowwimg this to happen. Instead it comes out airy, filled with need because he’s fingering you with two fingers now with his thumb pressing your clit.

“Says the virgin.” He laughed dryly.

Now you’re more pissed. You told him that as a secret. Who does he think he is?

“What makes you thin-”, you start but you’re cut off by him roughly kissing you once more, and at some point he bites your lip, drawing blood. He licks it before you do.

He muttered a “shut up” as he kissed down your neck quickly and impatiently. At some point he stopped fingering you, and you almost whined at the loss. He pulled away to lick his soaked fingers clean with his tongue, moaning as he stared into your soul. You almost take this chance to his him again, which you actually do, but he stops you and swiftly flipped you over so you’re on all fours now.

A calloused hand pushes your face down before you try to get up, and another hand pressed down on your back forcing your arch a bit more.

“Don’t fight it.~” He says almost mockingly. You groan feeling him as he lined his tip against your entrance.

“Stop….saying that. If you’d just listen for once-”

“Nope.” He says that as he pushed his full length into you. The stretch forced a long lengthy moan out of you. It hurt so good.

Mark wasted no time moving either, groaning himself as he thrusted slowly. It was almost like he was savoring how your walls felt around him. It took you a minute to get used to his size, especially being inexperienced.

“Fuckk.”, He groaned deeply.

His hands grip each side of your hips as he steadied himself. Sweat dripped onto your back side now as he hovered above you. You felt your ass ripple each time his hips met it and his hands tighten as you playfully squeezed him. Hearing his breath hitch each time gave you a thrill once more.

Until he started pounding you harder and deliberately aiming for your sweet spot. You didn’t think he’d find it so fucking quick but oh he did. It wasn’t long before you were seeing stars. At this point you’d knew you wouldn’t last long at all in this position.

Then, Mark flipped you over once more, pushing your thighs by your head and forcing you into a mating press. Strangely, you felt very exposed suddenly as he stared at you like you were a piece of meat. You reached to attack him once more until he harshly grabbed your wrist, brows furrowed and a growl escaping his throat once more before he started fucking you again.

“I’m not gonna stop until you say you won’t take over Earth.” He spat slightly whimpering.

“Guess we’re gonna—fuck—be here awhile, h-huh?” You smiled up at him.

He didn’t respond. He just fucked you harder now. Angrier. One hand was around your throat with another on your hip holding you in place. It was almost like he had done this before.

This lasted awhile. Only the slick, sloppy sounds of skin meeting and desperate noises filled the damaged living room. You were lucky you two ended up on a rug of all places. Your thighs were slick and covered his lower half with juices. Blood still ran a bit from your nose down your face, your bitten lip now swollen.

At some point he was fucking you so good your hands reached around his back and just scratched. He whined but kept going, and going, and going. It was almost like he was pissed. His hand tightened again so you could barely breathe and you were getting closer.

And him rubbing your swollen clit wasn’t helping. Your mind was spiraling and your limbs felt like putty. He leaned by your ear, messy damp hair falling on your shoulders as he kept muttering sick, lewd things into your ear about how he was going to fill you up until you beg him to stop. How soon you two have your own viltrumite child. How you felt so damn good around him, so tight and warm….

All of it simply sent you over the edge as you shook violently. You never felt this much pleasure in your life. Never. You almost couldn’t see with how good this orgasm was. You sounded like a broken record as you came around him, scratching his back once more. He kissed you again, damn near eating all your moans and whines.

You didn’t come down from your high for 5 minutes and all the while Mark still fucked you.

“Ready to join my side?” He said simply, thrusting slowly chasing his own orgasm. You were getting overstimulated and kept quivering...but viltrumites do not back down from missions so easily so…

“Never.”

“Okay, suit yourself.” He chuckled as he picked up the pace once more. He proceeded to pick up your discarded underwear and shove it in your mouth to “keep you quiet”.

Deep down you knew there was truly no convincing him. And deeper down you didn’t care.

[marsmaximoff]

🦑 hwang jun-ho; headcanons 〇△□

content warning: gn!reader. fluff. mentions of death, coma and jealousy. pet names. no season 2 spoilers. let me know if i missed anything.

word count: 941

author’s note: well, my man is back, and i had to write some headcanons for him. the OBSESSION that i had back in 2021 needs to be studied, omg. anyway, as always, constructive criticism is welcomed, english is my third language, so i apologize for any mistakes. in case i don’t post anything else this year, happy 2025 everybody!! enjoy! 🩷

divider by @k1ssyoursister

〇 pre-games

best. boyfriend. ever.

that’s it, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

🙃🙃🙃

his love languages are:

1) quality time

he may be a police detective, but he ALWAYS tries to make time for you 

and see you every day, and if he can’t, he’ll save some minutes to call you

loves to hear about your day

big on communication, that’s key on your relationship 

type of boyfriend that picks you up after work, or anything really

he just wants to see your cute face :3

takes you out on cool dates

to the park, to eat, to cute animal cafés

he’s okay with staying in too, just cuddling, talking, watching something….

and 2) acts of service 

will drive you anywhere you need

you get ‘good morning/night’ texts every single day you’re not together

makes you breakfast 

and has no problem with cooking for you

opens doors for you 

pulls out the chair at the restaurant ☝🏻

he’ll simply do anything you need

loves coming home to you, it doesn't matter how shitty or overwhelming his day was, you just put a smile on his face

his favorite thing to do with you is eating

it may sound boring, but he loves to see you taking care of yourself, well-fed and happy

takes you to meet his family

his mom loves you

even his brother likes you

he’s a tease and enjoys seeing you all flustered

i feel like he’d be the type to have many pics of you on his phone that he goes back to whenever he misses you

you’re probably his wallpaper, perhaps even on his wallet too 🤭

some pet names like: “honey”, “love”, “beautiful”, “cutie”

would never cheat

a guard dog

not super jealous -a bit tho- but won't hesitate to step up if someone acts stupid 

(picture that one scene in season 2 when that man mocked him and didn’t believe he was an actual police detective hehe)

shows you off 🤩

checks you out :p

his hand is on you in some way when you’re out

has good emotional intelligence

big spoon

reminds you to take your make up off before bed if you wear any -he may even do it himself if you're too tired

or to take meds

he is just really caring and supportive

doesn't like seeing you worried or anxious because of his job

absolutely hates to see you suffer

doesn’t mind that you may be struggling financially, it won’t change what he feels

will help you with whatever it is

just don’t hide it, he hates secrets and lies

i hate doing it, but there always has to be some 🚩 

he’s the first one that would do it (lying and hiding stuff) to ensure you’re okay and don’t get worried

on a particularly overwhelming day, he will raise his voice at you

can get really overprotective 

some days you may not hear from him, or at least not much

will sometimes struggle to open up about his issues or what’s upsetting him

△ during the games

after your sudden disappearance, worry and fear ate him up

while checking your house he found a weird card

and once he discovered the exact same one at his brother’s, he knew something was going on

heard gi-hun at the police station rambling about some weird symbols and immediately recognized the design

interrogated him about you, desperate to know about your whereabouts 

as soon as he successfully infiltrated the games, he began your search

almost had a heart attack when he spotted you

had to make the effort of his life to stay calm and not run to you

would somehow manage to get you two alone so he can get you out of there (i wrote about this)

almost gets caught

feels betrayed you didn’t tell him and quite angry you’d risk your own life like this

but mostly relieved you’re okay (and still alive)

watches you like a hawk from the distance, ensuring your safety

constantly around, you continuously sense his presence close by 

□ post-games (you died)

had to see your death and practically went numb

blurry vision, ringing in his ears, shortness of breath, sting in his throat

the worst thing tho, was finding out his brother had been behind everything

how could he have done this to you? you trusted him! 

feels completely disgusted

after his coma, he blames himself for everything

your name was his first word after waking up

dreams about you 

gets you a cenotaph given that your body will forever remain strayed

nevertheless, he still talks to you like you’re there

tells you about his recovery and his progress finding the island

you are his strongest motivation

he’s doing this for you, to provide the love of his life a much deserving peaceful rest

gets you new flowers every few days

he’ll never stop feeling guilty

〇 post-games (you survived)

has nightmares he failed and left you to meet your demise on those cursed games

always there when you have them, and so is his shoulder if you need to cry

reassurance king

hides the identity of his attacker from you

becomes even more overprotective

shared location on at all times

gets paranoid if you don’t text him all day

he swore to never miss a single detail of your possible struggles. not again

you can still tell he holds himself responsible for your time on that island

stays awake at night just watching you sleep safe and sound (will never say it tho)

babies you

bigger spoon

doesn’t let you go out on your own if it’s late, afraid that something may happen and those psychopaths will reach you again

[luludeluluramblings]

SugarBaby!Reader (Neglected!Bat!Sibling) x Tony Stark - Falling in Love

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part Two

A/N: Someone wanted more fluff of this and I had thoughts about it last night. Tony isn’t my favorite, but I kinda wanted to challenge myself with this and see if I could try it writing some romance.

A/N: Smalltown!Reader is still coming. Pregnant!Reader will be getting a part 2 at some point. Might post another series, the one army dreamer inspired, because why not? Gonna have sooo many WIPs. But, maybe they’ll give y’all some delight.

Warnings: GN!Reader, Mentions of bedroom activities, fluffy, not edited, hardly anything Yandere. Intended to be

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

When you and Tony started dating it had been after he had wooed you at some gala. Something for a long forgotten charity. You had initially been hesitant, knowing his play boy reputation. The one so eerily similar to your father’s Brucie Wayne persona.

Still he was charming, good looking, and had convinced you that one night wouldn’t hurt.

And, it hadn’t. The next day when you were about to crawl out of bed and begin your walk of shame, he had dragged you back. Taking his time repeating the night before and with an encore.

By the time you had finally been allowed to leave the bed, your stomach had let out an embarrassing growl that made your cooling skin flush once more.

Of course, Tony wasn’t going to let anyone he spent such a good time with go hungry. Ordering the two of you room service and a giant spread of breakfast.

It’s in that moment things start to shift. You were a good lay for Tony. A young pretty little thing that was some of the best he had had in a while. (Due to him mellowing out with age, not that he’d ever admit that.) But, it’s the way you look at him, shyly and with such genuine gratitude just for him buying to brunch that makes him stop.

Not pause. Because pause means he’ll end up playing again. And, he’s fairly certain he’s done playing. Because, when you happily sit in his button down shirt, munching on the food he bought you, and listen to him talk about an old project (he wasn’t dumb enough to share anything new he’d been working on) with such bright eyes and enthusiasm he realizes this might be trouble for him. It’s even cuter because he knows you don’t understand a single thing he’s saying, but you’re trying. You’re trying so hard and it’s so cute.

It keeps going on like that. Passionate nights and slow talkative mornings that morph into date nights and fun trips and days lounging together. You’re still honestly convinced it could all end at any moment. Nothing good last in your life. And, despite how desperately you want this to last you know it probably won’t. Still you swear to hold on. To take everything he’ll offers. Even if it’s not much and he leaves you in the end. You’re going to appreciate how full and fulfilled her makes you feel.

For you, you fall in love slow and overtime. It a soft and startling realization when you realize you love Tony. You love him dearly and he could break your heart into a million pieces. But, it would be worth it.

You keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Loving him and waiting for him. To leave.

For Tony, it’s similar. He spoils you he does. He loves the way you look at him when he does. But, as he unknowingly starts to settle, the realization that he’s not showing you off in public as much anymore and that he enjoys just being near even when there’s nothing to talk about hits him in the chest. And, in a Tony Stark like fashion, he spirals for a bit.

It causes him to spend three full days in his lab avoiding the world and his problems. Not sleeping, hardly eating, ignoring Jarvis.

When he finally does emerge, he’s covered in sweat and grease. He aches. He’s tired. He’s irritable. His fully expecting you to be mad he missed your fancy date he had planned. But, when he looks up at you and see’s that exact same grateful look in your eyes, it clicks. You give him that same look of gratitude and adoration every time he does something for you. He’s not doing anything other than being here with you. And, that’s enough for you. You’re in love with him, and he’s in love with you. And your willing to love him as his is and with what ever he gives.

Tony doesn’t confess though. To cliche. Instead he proposes. With no ring, no plan, and covered in grease. But, completely serious. It isn’t long until you understand he really means it, that he wants you for you and you’re leaping in his arms crying, yes. Yes. And the. You tell him to shower, because despite the love you feel and your happiness, he smells ripe.

He chases you around instead, before dragging you into the shower with him.

It isn’t until you both have a small private court house ceremony and he’s dragging you on to a luxury honeymoon that he leans over and confesses. Casually. Like it was a stray fact.

“Oh, hey, by the way, I love you.”

It makes you squawk that he has the audacity to do such a thing, but you lean into him and say it back.

“I love you, too… Silly old man.”

“Hey! That’s not what you were saying when I-“

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You hadn’t even thought about you family with Tony. Hadn’t thought to invite them to the wedding. You did call Alfred as soon as you got back though. Telling him the good news with so much happiness that the old Bulter cried when the call ended. You had sounded radiant, and it broke his heart.

Broke his heart that no one in the family had seen just how beautiful your joy was and that they had never bothered to cause it.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Based off this ask.