#invincible perfect strangers

[panzerdrako]

100 all time greatest comics (2014)

[quirkycatsfatstacks]

Review: Invincible Vol. 3: Perfect Strangers

Writer: Robert KirkmanArtist: Ryan OttleyColorist: Bill CrabtreeLetterer: Robert KirkmanPublisher: Image ComicsReleased: October 31, 2004Received: Own Book Summary: Mark Grayson has always known he had a better-than-average chance of succeeding with superpowers. After all, his father has them and kept promising that he, too, would inherit them someday. This helped prepare Mark for superhero…

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 1: I'LL BE YOUR PLASTIC TOY

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

Satoru Gojo was a lot of things, but he would never be yours. Sleeping with him in his bed as a child didn’t grant you that kind of closeness anymore. Within these halls, you walk past each other like strangers.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: angst, suggestiveness, making out, light bullying

ੈ✩ wc: 5.5k

ੈ✩ a/n: i am here to ruin everyone's lives. apologies in advance

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

March, 2008

“Hey, Twigs. Wanna see something cool?”

His honeyed voice chills your spine, his breath warm right by your ear. You roll your eyes as you turn to face Satoru, grinning with all his teeth as he tugs at your wrist. 

“What is it, Satoru?” you sigh.

“You have to follow meee,” he sings, pulling you away from the table you’re setting and towards the side of the porch. It’s secluded. Private. “Bring the spoon.”

With furrowed brows, you oblige. It isn’t like you have a choice. You had followed him around like a puppy ever since you’d met him as a child. You continue to, regardless of your determination to separate yourself from him.

His favorite shadow. His little pet.

The two of you aren’t as close as you were when you were children, but it’s still impossible to refuse him when he has a request. You blame it on your mother and her professionalism. You figure you had inherited it from her. That hyper-politeness. You find that you blame the ocean blue of his eyes more often. Always sparkling. 

He walks a few feet away from you, still grinning. You blink at his tall figure. He's currently dressed in a baby blue dress shirt (sleeves rolled up, of course) and black slacks. His Sunday best for the fancy brunch at the Gojo Estate. Every April, your mother summons you to help set up, then rewards you with a plate and time to play with the other kids. She would continue her work, serving the family and their guests. You would pretend that you weren’t part of the staff.

There hadn’t been a point in you staying for the afternoon in years. Only if Satoru begged you to, and even then, he hadn’t bothered to do so since junior high.

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” you huff, crossing your arms. You wipe your sweaty hands on your smock.

“I’d never let you get in trouble, you know that,” he smirks. “Now, throw the spoon at me.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

“I want to throw way more than a spoon at you right now.”

“Relax, Twigs. Do this for me. Please?” he pouts. You can see his bright blue eyes peeking out of his black sunglasses, framed by snow-white lashes. It was unfair how pretty he was. How easily he could persuade you. 

Sighing, you throw the spoon in his direction. It stops right in front of his face as if there’s an invisible wall. He laughs in victory when he sees your confused expression. 

“What was that?” 

“My Infinity. I’ve perfected it so that it’s automatic. Took me a lot of willpower before but now it’s as easy as breathing.”

“Congratulations,” you reply dryly. 

It was typical of Satoru to be invincible. Untouchable. It had been a quality of his since birth, now manifested into a literal power to aid him against threats. You’d been on the outskirts of such threats when you were younger, but Satoru would always spare you the details.

Watching him grow in his adolescence had been like watching a sprout bloom. It shot toward the sky exponentially until it became a tree in record time. You, meanwhile, were still a sprout. A window, they’d called it. Able to see the horrors produced by human nature but unable to do anything about it.

Your head snaps up, alert when you hear your mother yelling your name from the porch. She points a hard gaze at you, then softens it when she sees Satoru.

“Satoru-kun, do you mind if I steal her for a minute? I need some extra hands for the tamagoyaki.”

Satoru nods, expressing his courtesy to your mother in his usual charming poise. It used to work on you before, but it often irks you now. The way he dazzles people to get what he wants. You would rather die than admit it was a characteristic of his that you envied.

He tugs at your braid before you walk away.

“See you later, Twigs,” he calls after you. A playful lilt to his voice. 

“You won’t.”

Satoru has you memorized. Since the two of you were five years old, he considered you his mirror image, though you never believed him. 

Often, when he sees you now, his heart leaps the tiniest bit in his chest the same way it did when he was thirteen. He’s gotten better at ignoring it. He’s perfected the art of ignoring you ever since high school started.

He likes to indulge during times when you’re not looking. At the moment, you’re concentrated on a flower arrangement, a blush painted on your cheeks from the heat. He’d watch you do this when you were kids, too. Your face would be in a concentrated frown, tongue peeking out. Nimble fingers perfecting an ikebana arrangement. 

Sometimes he missed it. He decided long ago that it would be better if he didn’t.

You two had been inseparable since the day the Gojos' hired your mother as a maid. He remembered you hiding behind your mother’s legs, chewing on the end of one of your braids. You would stay in the guest house of the Gojo estate with your mother, and you would become Satoru’s best companion. 

Both of your mothers would arrange playdates. Satoru’s mother wanted him out of her hair. Your mother wanted to work without your constant interruptions. You were needy, an only child, but Satoru would always please you with his company. It was why you adored him.

He’d show you all his toys and teach you all the games that his extended family would show him to make you feel included. He’d have you sleep in his bed, which would go under the radar until the two of you were fourteen. It would be innocent and wholesome. Satoru would show you the stars he’d learned about and you would look at him as if he’d hung them in the sky himself. 

Satoru often reminisces about the shape of your body to this day. Sometimes, he misses it when he’s alone in his king-sized bed in the winter. Even with the heat on, there’s still something missing, and then he thinks of you.

When you were kids, you’d sleep together, legs and arms intertwined. Drool on the same pillow. Wake up to an abundance of pancakes from your mother.

You had been half a friend, half a plaything. Satoru’s counterpart. Feet kicking each other under the breakfast table. 

At age five, you’d seen the same curse together. A harmless thing, chameleon-like, with eight legs on each side. It had a nasty face, one that you had recognized from your nightmares. It had been exciting at first, knowing that you shared the same ability as your best friend. You believed that you would grow with him and become as talented as him.

But that was an exaggeration. Satoru's parents knew how isolating it would be for their son to be the strongest. Your technique never came.

Satoru acted as your protector, then. Expelled the small, vicious curses in the corners of your room like they were bugs. You’d watch him train, his body overgrowing with knobby knees as you sat on the sidelines. And while you grew up with him, you only got smaller in his periphery. Always lesser. Always weaker.

It’s the reason you’d grown apart. At least that’s what he tells himself. 

Satoru had grown into a tall, arrogant child. He treated school as a hobby and still made the highest marks, which angered you to no end. It didn’t matter to him, anyway, knowing that he’d become a company's CEO or the best jujutsu sorcerer in the world. He had his future in the palm of his hands. You were not a part of that. You weren’t even sure of a future of your own.

Sometimes he would have nightmares of you dying in his arms at the hands of a curse too big for him to control. During adolescence, he experienced many threats to his safety. He knew he couldn't live with himself. He couldn’t bear to see you endure the same. 

So, without explanation, Satoru Gojo pretended you didn’t exist. He exchanged the necessary niceties in school and when you'd come over with your mother, though he'd never ask you to stay the same way he had when you were kids. He was often occupied with new friends, anyway. Often busy working on his technique. Nothing that was your business, of course.

You resented him for it. 

Now, you’re enduring your last year of high school with him, and you are trying so badly to be good. You should aim to make good enough marks to attend a decent university on a decent scholarship. God knows you aren’t fit for the world of jujutsu sorcery. 

In a way, you’re okay with the mundanity of your life. Satoru’s absence in your heart convinced you of that. 

Satoru’s attendance at school is only an illusion of normalcy for his parents. His mother insists on it. Barely a sorcerer herself, she had wanted to give her son the option of living a normal life. With his grades and wit, she knew that he could easily be successful as a businessman or a doctor. 

Despite this, Satoru knew he would enroll in Tokyo’s Jujutsu Technical College with Suguru. He had met Suguru when he was fifteen, trying to exorcise a curse that only got snatched by a dark-haired thief, one who would end up as his best friend. 

Satoru saw Suguru as his only equal. He had no one else to relate to about jujutsu sorcery. 

Certainly not you.

But still, he was closing another year of high school, his last. Then he could be free from his parents’ restraints. It was easy for him to be the best and make the most friends. It was a shame that he’d have to leave them all behind. 

You’re a ghost in Satoru’s wake. Always near, never faltering yet never consuming too much space. As the school year progresses, he ignores you like a mosquito bite. Harmless but still itching his skin. Always reminded of your presence even when you do nothing to draw attention to yourself. 

And then there are times that you do.

“I’m sorry, sensei,” you mumble, stunned in the doorway of the classroom.

It’s a nondescript weekday in May, one that’s wet with rain, which explains your damp hair and clothes. Your appearance conjures a succession of snickers. The sound of low laughter taunting you and whispers gossiping about you.

You’re too tired for it. You don’t want to be here at all.

“I’m disappointed,” your teacher relays. “You’re usually never tardy.”

“It won’t happen again,” you muster.

You hear more whispers. It hangs on your shoulders as you sit in your seat, still and heavy as you attempt to take notes.

Should’ve worn something more sheer, than she’d get the attention she wants, huh?

Nah, not like her tits are even good enough to be seen like that.

Bet she’s hiding something from all of us. Maybe we can get her to strip in the girls’ locker room and give us a show later.

“Shut the fuck up,” a voice growls. You hear it, turning your head, and your eyes fall on Satoru’s fiery blues. 

You wonder if the feeling of his gaze searing into the back of your head is worth mentioning. It makes your face hotter, the flush of humiliation warming your neck as your peers snicker at you.

You manage to get through class without crying. Haru, a boy you were closer with in previous years, offers his sweatshirt to you as you collect your things. 

“She’s good,” Satoru interrupts as you strip off your damp sweater. Within seconds, he has you under his arm. He ushers you out the classroom door. His oversized jacket drapes over your shoulders.

“Gojo,” you hiss. “He was just being nice.”

“Or he wanted to see you in a wet t-shirt. I don’t think white was the best move for today, by the way.”

Your face heats up when you look down. You realize the extent of skin that’s visible from the sheerness of your damp white shirt. It mortifies you more when you realize that Satoru had caught it first.

“Right. Thanks,” you mumble, hiking up your bookbag tighter on your shoulder. 

“So helpless sometimes,” Satoru sighs. He shoots you a devilish smile that combats your scowling frown. “Why don’t you call me by my first name here?”

“Because we’re in school and it’s polite.”

"Twigs, are you scared of being associated with me?"

He blocks the door of your locker, leaning against it and towering over you. Satoru had always taken up as much space as possible without a care in the world. You were the opposite -– always compartmentalizing yourself to be smaller. Malleable. Amicable.

He’s too close for comfort, nearly breathing down your neck. He only moves when you kick him pathetically in the shin.

Satoru’s smile only grows bigger as you ignore him. He wonders if he could get your fuse to blow in front of him right now. This place is usually where you’re composed, regal, and expedient. One of the school’s top students. 

He knew you had an edge to you, wild as you were when he had known you as a child. But you had only grown to be responsible and sensible. He thinks that his mother would be relieved if he acted more like you.

“Coming home with me or what?” Satoru quips. The way he says it makes your stomach stir. It's an almost salacious suggestion despite its innocence. Satoru always made everything sound more exciting than it was.

“Why would I?” you raise a brow.

“My mother would like to see you. She told me she had some hand-me-downs for you to try on." You know I’d love nothing more than to see you parade around my house dressed like my mother in the 70s.” He grins in amusement.

“Okay, sure, whatever.”

“Yo, Satoru!” 

His head whips around to see one of his buddies, crowded around other jocks. Satoru is quick to leave you without so much as a goodbye. 

July, 2008

After your semester, you end up second to Satoru. It’s no surprise to you despite how much it infuriates you. You are never anything more or less. 

"Congratulations, Twigs," Satoru murmurs to you. He startles you from your thoughts. You slam your locker closed.

“Why are you still calling me that?”

“Because you’re my Twigs,” he pouts.

Yours. It’s a funny lie. Satoru Gojo was a lot of things, but he would never be yours. Sleeping with him in his bed as a child didn’t grant you that kind of closeness anymore. Within these halls, you walk past each other like strangers.

He pouts childishly like he always does. There’s a devilish spark in his blue eyes underneath his sunglasses, though you can barely make out his irises from his height. Satoru’s growth spurt had him at over six feet tall by the time he was sixteen. It was obvious that he’d only grow taller. 

You scoff, rolling your eyes at the nickname. If you were in middle school again, the notion would warm your heart. It had been a stupid nickname he’d tease you with ever since you were both ten. You had been angry at him for reasons that escaped you, climbing up the tree in the backyard of his estate as high as you could until he begged you to come down.

You wouldn’t, of course. You were always stubborn like that, and Satoru loved it. 

You were also much clumsier when you were ten, slipping your foot as you attempted to climb a different branch and falling into Satoru’s arms. It had been a miracle you didn’t break any bones, but thanks to Satoru’s freakish strength, you were unharmed. Only disheveled with leaves and twigs stuck in your frizzy hair. He had called you Twigs ever since. 

“I’m not your anything. Even if my mother is still your fucking maid.”

“Aren’t you my maid, too? My little servant?” he teases. 

You wonder if he knows how cruel it is, even if it’s a little joke.

“I’m nothing to you,” you mumble. You attempt to hold a faster stride on your walk home. Maybe you’d advance enough to leave him in the dust. You could be the best runner on the track team if you managed that.

But you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t leave him, couldn’t. Not a chance.

“What was that?” Satoru calls after you.

“Nothing!”

“Slow down,” he whines, running fast enough to follow your stride, much to your annoyance. Him and his stupid, long legs. His taunting smile. “Don’t you wanna come over?”

“Why would I?”

“Your mom’s probably there. And we can celebrate the end of exams.”

“I have… stuff to do,” you stammer.

“No, you don’t,” Satoru chuckles. “The semester’s over. Summer’s here, baby.”

“Don’t call me that!”

He laughs again, the sound twinkling in your ears like a beloved song. It makes your cheeks warm. You don’t want him to see it. 

Yet, he wraps his arms around you, chin nestled to your collarbone as if you were joined together. In a blink, the two of you are in his kitchen, with whiplash only an after-effect. You still hadn’t gotten used to his ability to warp.

“I hate when you do that.”

“You like it, I know you do,” Satoru taunts. “It excites you. I can tell because your cheeks get all flushed.”

“They do not!”

“Sure, they don’t, Twigs.” 

“You’re annoying,” you huff, dropping your school bag on a chair.

Satoru greets your mother with a kiss on the cheek as you follow behind him. She has tea prepared in the sitting room for you and him, along with dorayaki and matcha Swiss rolls.

“Your mom’s the fucking best,” he muses as he gobbles down a third roll. You watch him in feigned disgust. Sipping your tea, you mumble something unintelligible in agreement.

“What, you aren’t hungry?”

“No.”

“Try this.”

“I have. She’s my mom.”

“C’mon, Twigs, open up.” 

Satoru leans over the table with a Swiss roll between his fingers, waving it in front of your face. There’s no point in protesting -– he’d probably knock something over from his eagerness to annoy you. You part your lips to take a bite, and at the same time, he shoves it into your mouth.

“Satoru!” you groan.

“Stay still.”

You swallow your bite and he wipes his fingertips on the corner of your mouth. He’s close enough to feel your breath on his face, licking up the frosting on his thumb nonchalantly. He chuckles at the flustered look painting your face into a scowl.

“I’m done. I’m going to do the dishes.” 

You excuse yourself to retreat to the kitchen before you can so much as make eye contact with Satoru again. He has to be teasing you with his small touches. It’s something he would’ve done when you were twelve, yet the notion now would be different. 

The two of you were in completely different social spheres. He had separated himself from you years prior. It would be a rare sight for him to be so touchy with you in public, acting as if you were like him. 

Someone who had a big kitchen. Someone who didn’t have to think about expenses.

It’s a miracle that he leaves you alone as you clean the kitchen, washing dishes to keep your mind occupied. After you’re done, you decide to cut up a bowl of strawberries. You knew they were Satoru’s favorite. Knowing him, he’d still crave something sweet after demolishing all the desserts.

You nick yourself. A careless act — you aren’t paying attention, mistaking the sharp side of the knife for the dull one. It slices the inside of your thumb. Cursing under your breath, you hover your hand over the wound. You heal it within milliseconds without so much as a second thought.

This is when Satoru kicks at something. The wall or a potted plant, you don’t know. But it’s a plea for attention and it brings your focus to him, your head snapping up to meet his gaze and his childish pout. 

“I saw that,” he says, lowly.

You freeze under his scrutiny. You don’t say anything.

“So you’ve been lying to me.” It’s a seething accusation instead of a question.

He gets so close to you without you even noticing. He towers over you again, swallowed by the whole of his shadow, and his betrayed frown is petulant like a child’s. 

“Satoru—”

“You said you didn’t have a cursed technique.”

“I—I didn’t. Not until later—”

“When?”

Your eyes are wide as you look up at him, hands trembling. He takes a step forward, taking up more space. It reminds you of your worth. The mere fact of him belittles you in that way.

“When I was thirteen. My kitten, Aki. The stray. You remember him, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“He got hit by a car one day, and I couldn’t stop sobbing. And I was holding him in my hands all bloody. And then, I brought him back to life. It just happened.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You search Satoru’s face. There’s a bit of betrayal in it, mostly surprise. It boils your blood in the slightest bit — because why is it so shocking that you ended up with a cursed technique? You may have hidden it from him for a few years, but was it something so unimagined for you?

You assumed that you would always be a plaything in Satoru’s eyes. Something so easy, so useless.

“It wasn’t enough,” you exasperate. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It doesn’t matter. None of it does, Satoru. It’s so—”

Insignificant. Small compared to you.

He waits, swallowing the lump in his throat. Eyes flaring like comets.

“It doesn’t matter,” you repeat. “I don’t even want to be a sorcerer, and even if I wanted to be, I could never keep up with you. I don’t see the point in pursuing this if I’m better off just studying at a normal university—”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Your technique is amazing. It’s like Shoko’s! You could’ve —”

“Satoru,” you emphasize. Your tone shuts him up, your hardened gaze, the lightning in your eyes bright and sharp. Menacing, even. You can sense the sound of him swallowing, a lump lodged in his throat loud enough for you to hear.

White lashes flutter. A frown is still displayed on his face. It’s now that he notices the slight bags under your eyes. Evidence of burden, of nights spent awake under the unforgiving moonlight.

You look at him in a way that feels damning — like you’re coaxing something from him. He knows better — knows that his anger is misplaced, that you’re right.

You having a healing technique is nothing compared to him. Even then, he knows that you probably aren’t interested in combat or the world of jujutsu sorcery in general. It doesn’t affect him so negatively. So what is he so angry about?

The question is in your eyes, pleading. He already knows the answer despite not admitting it to himself. He knows that the prospect of you having a cursed technique doesn’t mean you’re stronger than him. He assumes you wouldn’t surpass him, and wouldn’t think you to be someone who would even think about it. 

Satoru knows he’s angry because he feels very close to you. He had at least thought he was close enough with you to know about your cursed technique. It was finding out that you were hiding it from him that made him angry. Learning that you had it manifest in front of you and didn’t bother to fucking tell him about it.

He can’t voice any of these frustrations. He knows you’d yell at him, and criticize him for thinking he’s entitled to you. It’s inappropriate and unfair, but in his younger years, he often felt that he was entitled to you. He’d known you since you were so very little, so vulnerable. He had protected you from all those curses, hadn’t he? He held you in his arms in his bed for years. That had to have meant something to you. It certainly meant something to him. 

“Sorry. I just wish you told me earlier,” he says softly. 

You apologize. Meek beneath him, eyes avoiding him. 

“I know,” you sigh. “I have to go. I’ll see you later, Satoru.”

You don’t see him for a week and a half. It should be typical to you. It’s not like him to reach out or go out of his way to see you. He’d always been like that, giving you no expectations. And yet, his radio silence had crawled under your skin.

It’s stupid to expect him, anyway. There’s no reason for him to show up at yours, much more of a reason for you to show up at his, but you don’t need to. Your mother does that for her job and it has nothing to do with you.

There’s a Tuesday that’s so quiet, so plain that even the rain falters after two hours to only grant the town wet pavement. You’re curled up with a book in your living room when you hear a succession of knocks on your door. An erratic rhythm, the same as the special knock you would use with Satoru.

It’s him, of course. He smirks at you, an oversized t-shirt loose off of his lanky figure. You try not to fixate on the sweat of his exposed collarbone. You look him straight in the eyes through his pitch-black sunglasses.

He has a large bouquet in his hands. He grins at you. For the first time in a little while, you feel brave.

“Confessing your love to me this afternoon, are you?” you pester, a brow raised.

Something like that, Satoru thinks.

“You wish.” 

He walks past you, brushing your shoulders much to your annoyance. He sets the bouquet on your kitchen table in its little jar, peonies drooping despite how hard he tries to fix them.

“It’s from my mom to yours. As a thank you and a birthday wish and stuff.”

“Thanks,” you murmur. “That’s very sweet of her.”

He hums in agreement, rocking his heels back and forth as his eyes roam your house. It isn’t his first time here, but he acts the part, hands buried in his pockets as he observes you like a wild animal. 

“Will that be all?”

“Dunno,” Satoru shrugs. “What were you up to before I showed up?”

You shrug, too, attempting to mirror his nonchalance. You had long ago buried your paperback in a drawer, promising to return to it by the time Satoru left. But still, he lingers, in front of you, taking up unnecessary space in your childhood home. Too tall and too pretty.

“Just cleaning my room,” you lie. 

“Can I see it?”

“Why?”

“Been a while,” he shrugs. “I’m just curious.”

“Well, it’s a mess right now. I didn’t get very far.”

“Like I care,” Satoru chuckles. 

He stares at you for a bit, heartbeats passing the time in your head. Fuck, he’s serious. He’s already leaning towards the staircase.

“Okay.”

You’re hyper-aware of him behind you, eyes exploring the length of your body. If you had known that he would show up unannounced, you would’ve changed into one of your long dresses or a pair of jeans. At the moment, you feel too bare in your tank top and corduroy shorts. You feel like a child outgrown.

Satoru takes up as much space as usual, long limbs splayed over your tiny twin bed. You don’t permit him to sit on your bed, but he does it anyway. He looks at the pictures on your wall, takes in the sweet smell of your sheets. It’s similar to your clothes, your flesh. Your hair. He’d live in it if he could.

“How cute.” He gestures to a cat plushie by the head of your bed. 

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not!” Satoru laughs. “It is cute. It’s so you.”

A certain fervor blossoms in your gut at that. The image of him stretched out on your little bed. Despite your closeness with him when you were younger, he had never spent much time at your house. It took you a few years to understand why.

“You should invite me over more often.”

“I don’t invite you over ever.”

“Well, you could start.”

“Why?” You stand by the wall, shifting your weight towards it as you lean backward. You cross your arms in defense, even though he hasn’t said anything to provoke you yet.

“It’s comfy here. I like it.”

“Thanks?”

He sings your name, beckoning you to him. You take three steps at most, holding your breath. Standing in front of his knees.

“Come sit, Twigs.”

“Told you not to call me that,” you breathe.

“Don’t care,” he grins. 

He reaches out to you, pulling you between his knees with a hand on your waist. He smirks at the sound of your gasp as he tugs at your wrist. 

“In my lap. C’mere.”

It’s difficult to refuse Satoru Gojo. His eyes drink you in, ocean blues glimmering and reflecting the afternoon sunlight. You’re still between his thighs. He tugs you without much effort, making you stumble into him. Your hands hold onto his shoulders as you settle into his lap. He holds the small of your back as you straddle him.

“Wanna try something.”

You say nothing. Your eyes flutter closed when you feel his fingertips grazing your jaw.

There’s a softness against your mouth. You don’t dare open your eyes.

You sense a sharp inhale behind the lips that kiss you, but they stay. Wetting between your mouth with the slight of a tongue. Tasting sweet like honeysuckle.

You whine, opening your mouth a bit more. You swallow down divinity. It's misguided affection that you had wished for when you were so much smaller. It might mean something bigger to you now if you thought about it for longer. You don’t want to. You refuse to.

But Satoru kisses you hard, excited and eager. His tongue peeks into your mouth and you taste strawberries. Lips soft and supple and melting against yours.

He groans, fisting your hair in his hand as he deepens the kiss, falling more and more into you. He smiles against your mouth as he coaxes a small sound out of you. It crawls out of your throat for him to taste with satisfaction. He’s always dreamed of you in his lap, but he could never tell you that.

You’re breathless, weak, and melting into him as he wraps his arms around you. Caging you in so that you can’t escape. So fucking warm in his embrace. 

It takes a second for you to notice the hardness growing underneath you. It prods your center as you mindlessly grind into Satoru’s lap. When you realize, you squeak in embarrassment, and he clutches you harder.

You sigh into each other, eating the other up. Heat surges through you, from your forehead down to your core, to your weak, sensitive legs. Hot from the feeling of him in your mouth. Hot from the proximity of your core to his.

You pull away, exhaling unevenly as you try to catch your breath. You’re shy under his gaze, unwrapping yourself and covering your body as if you’re naked.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re so cute,” he chuckles. “Acting like that was your first kiss.”

“What if it was?”

He raises a brow as you look away with flushed cheeks. You’re still on his lap and he takes the opportunity to remind you of this, shifting you in his lap and causing friction. Your eyes are wide as you quickly attempt to untangle your limbs with his.

“That was your first kiss?”

“Yeah.”

You roll your eyes at the sight of his leering smile. God, you knew this would happen. Satoru would never let you live it down.

“I’m going to kick you out—”

“No.” 

He grasps your wrist in his hand. It’s small compared to his palm, engulfing you. His other hand grips your hip firmly but softly. He only moves it to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin.

“How was it? Tell me.”

“Good,” you breathe. “Felt good.”

For the first time in a long time, he looks at you like you have invented something new. There’s a bit of astonishment. Wonder and admiration. Maybe you were getting ahead of yourself. You were easily deluding yourself with the expression of his sapphire blue eyes. 

“Felt good for me, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you do that?” you ask, giggling nervously. 

“Just wanted to.”

“I want you to kiss me again,” you whisper.

“I want to do more than that,” Satoru mumbles. But he knows better. It’s the best decision for him to get you off his lap right now before he loses composure.

You both hear the sound of your front door opening as if it’s timed -- your mother. 

“I’ll kiss you later, okay?” Satoru murmurs.

“You will?”

“My parents will be gone this weekend. To Okinawa. You should come over on Saturday.”

“Okay. I will.”

[zayed-gold87]

**The Rise of Romeo Gold: A Soccer Saga**

The stadium buzzed with frustration. The green-clad team, beaten and bruised, trailed yet again. Among them, their once-proud captain, Daniel Gray, sat hunched on the pitch, his head heavy with despair. The streaks of white in his hair shimmered under the harsh floodlights, a symbol of the mounting pressure that aged him beyond his years. His team was crumbling, and he could feel his confidence draining away like sand through an hourglass.

"Why can't I do this anymore?" he muttered under his breath, his fingers clawing at the blades of grass beneath him. The scoreboard mocked him with its glaring red numbers: **3-0**.

As Daniel knelt, a golden glow reflected off the corner of his vision. A man in a shimmering gold kit strode onto the field as if he belonged. The crowd gasped, their jeers silenced. He was stunningly composed, his chiseled jawline and piercing eyes exuding both charm and authority. His presence was magnetic, his skin glowing under the golden kit like sunlight kissed it directly.

The man stopped before Daniel, extending a hand.

"You’re lost," the stranger said, his voice a blend of calm and command. "But there’s a better way. A stronger way. You’ve spent your whole life carrying your team, struggling, breaking yourself. Why? For what? Join us."

Daniel blinked, his heart pounding. "Us?"

The man gestured behind him. For the first time, Daniel noticed the other players in golden kits watching from the sidelines. They looked extraordinary: tall, strong, united, their movements as one. "We are the Golden Team," the man said. "A brotherhood. We don’t play for ourselves. We play as one, for each other. For greatness. You can belong. You can be reborn. Strong. Fulfilled. Perfect."

From behind his back, the stranger revealed a pristine, golden jersey. The number **87** gleamed under the lights, with one word sewn above it: **Romeo**.

Daniel stared, captivated. The golden threads seemed to shimmer as if alive, inviting him, calling him. He reached for the jersey with trembling hands. "Is this real?"

The man smiled. "You’ll feel it the moment you put it on. You’ll never be alone again. You’ll never lose again."

Weak with excitement, Daniel hesitated only for a second before pulling the jersey over his head. As the fabric slid down his torso, a surge of energy coursed through his body, unlike anything he’d ever felt. His once-weary frame straightened, his muscles thickened, his legs pulsing with newfound power.

He looked at his hands, his arms, his entire body. He was transformed—stronger, faster, better. For the first time in years, he felt invincible.

"You’re Romeo Gold now," the man said, stepping back to admire his new recruit. "The Sweeper of the Golden Team. Let’s show them what you’re made of."

**The Game Transformed**

When Romeo stepped back onto the pitch, the crowd roared—not in mockery, but in awe. The energy in the stadium shifted as the Golden Team took the field alongside him. Every pass, every tackle, every movement was executed with military precision.

Romeo Gold swept through the opposition like a force of nature. His once-doubtful mind was now laser-focused, his body unstoppable. The green team never stood a chance. By the end of the match, the score read **7-3**.

The Golden Team had triumphed, and Romeo was its shining star.

**The Brotherhood**

Later, in the locker room, Romeo Gold was greeted by his new brothers. The air was thick with camaraderie, their shared purpose creating a bond deeper than anything he had ever known.

"You’re one of us now," the man in the gold kit said, clapping him on the back. "This is where you belong."

Around the room, more golden-clad players smiled, nodding in approval. Beyond them, a small group of figures in sleek black polo shirts entered silently, their faces blank and obedient.

"Who are they?" Romeo asked, though his heart swelled with loyalty to the golden brotherhood.

"They serve us," the man replied. "They’re part of the plan. They’ll bring others, grow the Golden Team. And you’ll help lead the charge."

Romeo nodded, feeling an overwhelming sense of duty. The jersey had not just changed his body; it had rewired his mind. He wasn’t just a player anymore. He was part of something greater, a soldier in the Golden Army.

As the black-clad drones moved to organize the room, Romeo Gold embraced his golden brothers, ready for the battles ahead. He had found what he always needed: purpose, power, and belonging.

The Green Team was a distant memory now.

Romeo Gold had been born anew.

[mysticraven20]

This was written for @verabraun-art WTIYS where you had to write a letter from someone but it kept the reader guessing until right at the very end.

This goes so well with the London special, I just had to post now.

————————

Dear Mini Bug,

If you’re reading this, I’ve left without saying goodbye.

But I wanted you to know I understand how heavy everything feels right now. The sleepless nights, the endless ‘what-ifs’,the fear that no matter what you do, it won’t ever be enough. How each mistake feels like the end of the world—how every slip-up seems to echo in your heart, telling you that maybe you’re not cut out for this. I wish I could say it will get easier, but the truth is, there are still a lot of hard days ahead. There will be times you will fall in ways you didn’t think were possible. Days when the weight of your own doubts will feel unbearable. You will make mistakes, Marinette. Sometimes, they’ll be small, but other times, they will feel catastrophic—like you’ve let everyone down, like you’ve let me down. There will be moments when you’re scared to even get back up because what if you fall again, right?

I wish I could take it all away for you, the tears that fall behind your mask, the doubts that wrap around your heart until it feels hard to breathe. But I can’t.

You’re going to make mistakes that haunt you. Mistakes that hurt people you care about. There will be times when you look in the mirror and you won’t recognise the person staring back—when Ladybug feels like a stranger and Marinette feels too fragile to keep going. There will be days when you’ll fail, and the weight of those failures will feel suffocating. You’ll ask yourself if Paris chose wrong, if maybe you’re not meant to be the hero they need. You’ll stand on the edge of despair, feeling like one more mistake might just be the one that undoes you. And sometimes, you’ll even think of giving up—of taking off the earrings and letting someone else be the hero you don’t think you can be.

But you won’t. Even when you’re at your lowest, when the world around you seems to crumble, you’ll keep moving. Not because you’re invincible, but because you’re human. Because there’s something inside of you that refuses to quit, even when everything else feels broken. Every scar you earn, every fall that shatters you, will shape you. And though you might not see it now, it’s those cracks that let the light in, that make you stronger than you were before.

And then there’s Adrien. I know sometimes you want to shut him out—how his carefree smiles can feel like salt on an open wound when everything else feels so heavy. And yet, in your darkest moments, he’ll be there. When the world is at its darkest, and you can’t see a way forward, he will be your shining light. He will see you when no one else does—the real you, the scared, uncertain Marinette beneath the mask. And he won’t walk away. He’ll make you laugh when all you want to do is cry, he’ll remind you that there’s still hope even when you’ve forgotten it yourself. And when you want to let go, he’ll be the one holding you steady.

There will be times when you’ll hurt him too, even though you never mean to. You’ll see the way his eyes fall when you turn away, the hurt he tries so hard to hide behind a joke. And it will tear at you, knowing that sometimes you’re the reason for his pain. But he’ll never give up on you. No matter how many times you push him away, he’ll always be there, reaching for your hand. And one day, you’ll understand just how rare and precious that is—how much he means to you, how much he keeps you going. Treasure him, Marinette. Let him in. One day, you’ll realise he’s one of the best parts of this whole journey.

You’re going to fall, Marinette. You’re going to break. But each time, you will rise again. It’s not about being perfect; it’s about choosing to get back up even when it feels impossible. The road ahead isn’t a fairytale—it’s messy, it’s painful, and it will test every part of you. But you will get there, step by step, day by day. Believe in yourself, even when it feels like the hardest thing to do. Because in the end, despite everything, you will find that it was all worth it.

With love,

Ladybug 🐞

[nakedcows]

Hello! I gotta request. I love Aemond as many of the girlies do. But I never find fics for the plus size girls. I’m a firm believer that Aemond would like a plus size woman. When you have a moment of time I’d love to see a plus size reader x Aemond type fic. Of course I’d be here for some spice too. I’d just really like to see more representation ☺️ thank you for your time and I hope you have a wonderful day!

A/N: I'm terribly sorry for the delay. I had a draft ready that didn't save so my inspiration took a big hit. I haven't thought about it before, but now that you say it I do think Aemond would lean more toward plus sized women. I can't explain why i just feel like it falls inline with his character. Thank you for your request!!

summary: Aemond gifts Y/n new clothes that inspire her to take the lead tonight

warnings: smut p n v, slight degrading (not of the reader), body shaming (it's not very much don't worry), sub Aemond

Word count 1.4k

Y/n was entranced by the stranger staring back at her in the mirror. The woman standing in her mirror resembled the fair ladies from books she had read as a girl. Ones where brave knights fight to the death and love-struck monarchs conquer kingdoms for the chance to embrace their true love.

The emerald green dress she wore had no sleeves and hung off her shoulders. Y/n was not used to dressing in such a manner she had become accustomed to frumpy, loose fitted clothing that hid her figure. Y/n’s mother had insisted that despite the high ranking of their house, it was imperative to hide the plump figure she had inherited from her to guarantee proposals from the lords of the court. However, her dear Aemond had thought otherwise. He began to court Y/n and questioned why a lady of her rank wore such ill-fitting clothing. After Y/n had confided in Aemond about her mother's advice, he disposed of her dresses and commissioned a new wardrobe of custom-made dresses with matching jewelry for his love. Y/n admired her newfound figure and how her bodice hugged her thick waist instead of hanging loosely. Layers of skirt gracefully laid against her wide hips complimented with embroidery. The mousy-looking girl had disappeared under hair tied in intricate braids decorated with rare jewels and a beauteous dress accentuating her curved figure. Y/n always felt as though she was meant to be invisible, to blend into the background unnoticed and unmentioned unless she was needed. But now, with her full body glittering in the open free to be seen, she felt confident.  

“You are enchanting, my love,” Aemond said. He had briefly left for Y/n to dress and retrieve the final piece to her ensemble. Aemond stood behind her, unable to break his gaze from her captivating, newfound appearance.   

Aemond delicately clasped a sapphire necklace cut from the same gem in his eye.   

“What do you think, dear heart?” he asked as his hands drifted from Y/n’s neck to her shoulders  

“I think it’s... perfect,” she said, gliding her hands under her plump chest. “I look perfect.” Y/n smiled brightly at her reflection. The rush of finally recognizing the glowing beauty in her mirror was the same modestly dressed woman that she saw a few hours ago.  Y/n felt invincible at this moment she could do anything, say anything and the surefooted woman in her mirror would protect her from fear and persecution with a glance. She turned to Aemond with a new vigor. It was an unfamiliar feeling that bubbled in her core and climbed up to her chest. Aemond had always taken the lead. He led when they held hands when they kissed, and he led when they were intimate. But tonight, she would take command. Y/n grabbed the back of Aemond’s head greedily, pulling him flush against her body for a languid kiss. Aemond grinned into the kiss, stroking her rounded hips, causing the sensation in her core to swell. Y/n slowly pulled from him. Her whole body felt as though someone had set aflame her from the inside.   

“You promised me once that you would do anything for me. I need only ask. Is that still true? Y/n asked, meeting his eyes.   

“Of course, my dear,” the fingers on his neck glided into his hair to stroke his scalp.   

“Then get on your knees for me,” Y/n’s light stroking turned into a tight grip as she yanked Aemond’s head back by his hair.  Aemond breath hitched from the sudden tension on his scalp. Y/n had never done this before yet as he prostrated himself before her the hand in his hair leading him to kneel, he felt the blood rushing to his cock.  

“What do you wish of me Y/n?”  

“Hmm I don’t think using my name suits you very well my dear,” she said smirking.  

“Oh?”  

“No, you are a proper gentleman are you not? Then you should refer to me like one. I think ‘My lady’ will do for now, don’t you?” Aemond felt his breeches tighten as she leaned in and paused just before their lips met.  

“Answer me Aemond.”  

“Yes, my lady,” Y/n closed the gap between them, devouring his lips. Aemond could hear his heart pounding as his member began to throb. He was used to being in control. There was safety in control letting that part of him slip for even a second led to disaster. Aemond craved rest for someone to ease that unmoving tension in his mind and giving his power to Y/n would do just that. 

“Good boy, strip and lay on the bed for me,” she said releasing his hair. Aemond stood from his spot on the floor in favor of removing his doublet and breeches before laying on the bed desperate to obey. Aemond felt his length harden as Y/n waltzed up to the bed and slowly skipped out of her sleeves pulling her bodice down, exposing her full breast and removed her small clothes, leaving her the remainder of her dress on. His red tip now peaked out from the protection of its fleshy folds at the sight. His shy elegant lady turned dominating temptress. Aemond reached down to stroke himself but was met with a quick slap.   

“Proper gentlemen don’t touch themselves, Aemond. It is quite unseemly,” she said, climbing onto the bed to straddle him.  

“Y-Yes my lady.”   

“You know improper gentlemen believe they are owed the pleasure they crave-” Y/n pulled her skirt up, revealing thick plush thighs coated in slick from her dripping mound, causing Aemond’s breath to quicken and his cock to throb. “But a proper gentleman asks for his desires, doesn’t he, Aemond? Why don’t you ask me for what it is you desire my dear?” Y/n lowered herself a bit allowing Aemond’s tip to just barely graze her entrance. Aemond gasped, trying to hold himself together. Whenever he had coupled with Y/n, Aemond would take her hips and impale her with his length whenever he felt the urge, yet at this moment doing such a thing without her explicit permission felt as though he would be committing an unforgivable sin of the highest caliber.  

“Please my lady, use my cock.” Aemond said, bringing his hands up and sinking his fingers into her soft hips. 

“Hmm I don’t know. You don’t seem to want me enough. Perhaps I should stop,” she said slowly lowering her skirt. The gentle throbbing of Aemonds cock developed into torturous ache.  

“No, my lady, please I need you. Please let me fill your cunny. I need it. I’m throbbing for you. I need to fill you around me my lady,” Y/n grinned and lifted her skirt once more.  

“There you go sweet boy begging for me like a proper gentleman,” Y/n dropped onto his cock taking him all at once. Normally Y/n would ask Aemond to be slow and gentle with her, but here and now, consumed by her newfound vigor, she didn’t want to be gentle. She didn’t want to be delicate. She wanted to take everything for herself. Y/n sank, allowing Aemond to bottom out. He could feel her cunt constrict around his cock as if she wanted to meld him into her insides. Her folds would only briefly release him from their tight grip before clenching around him once again. Y/n could feel Aemond’s cock pulsating inside her. The tip of his cock pressed against the spongy back of her cunt. Y/n rocked her hips, enthralled by how the sensation of absolute control enhanced her pleasure. Aemond felt as though he was unraveling every time Y/n’ hips dropped to meet his. Aemond was consumed with an unrelenting craving that devoured his entire being. He needed her. He needed more.   

“Faster my lady! Please, I need more of you!”   

“Good boy asking so nicely for his lady,” Y/n sped up, bouncing on Aemond’s cock quicker, the heat in her core building to a peak ready to snap at any moment. Y/n reached for Aemond’s hands. She pressed his left hand against her pearl and held onto his right one. Aemond rolled small circles on Y/n’s pearl already covered in her slick and tangled his fingers with hers. Adding pressure to the sensitive bud when their hips met each other. 

“I’m going to cum. Are you ready, Aemond?” she said leaning down, losing herself in his violet eye.  

“Yes please, I need to feel you cum around me my lady!” she couldn’t hold on any longer. Squeezing Aemonds hand Y/n fell apart as her orgasm flooded across her body, causing her legs to shake and her body to fall limp against Aemond. The pleasure of taking Aemond as she pleased pushed Y/n’s high to another plane of existence. One where she was everything and nothing all at once. Unburdened. Unshackled. Untouched. Aemond felt himself burst inside of Y/n his back arching. He had never reached a peak like this before. He could feel tingling all throughout his body that turned into blissful burning reaching to the tips of his toes. They laid together for a moment, their heavy breathing filling the heady air. Y/n sat up a bit and placed a gentle kiss on Aemond’s temple still damp from the excitement.  

“Did I do well for you, my lady?” 

“You were the perfect gentleman.” 

Please reblog and comment

[tare-anime]

SxF Mission 84

(Beware of spoilers)

Oh woooooowwwwwwwwww!!!

Wheeler is really one capable spy!!!

Totally love him, Endo!!!

He can easily defeat 3 WISE agents!

Turning the table when it seems like he was already arrested

Using a small knife to nullified gun threats

And not falling for Twilight's tricks, even beat him down!!

Whoah....

Yea I know Twilight is already injured. But Wheeler really is a league of his own

With that kind of stamina, agility, skills, and adaptable analysis accuracy, are we sure he is not triple agent? That he's actually part of Garden?? Because I don't think SSS can have an agent of this caliber 🤣🤣🤣🤣 (sorry SSS).

Anyway, the chapter end with unhinged Fiona.

After unhinged Melinda back then, now we have unhinged Fiona. Endo sure loves his female characters, eh?? (And I love Endo for that 🥰)

Now the questions are, what is the reason for Fiona's rage? Is it:

1. A simple fangirl getting angry because her idol is hurt? Which is, tbh, rather meh. I really hope Endo use this narrative to develop Fiona's character. Which make possible reason no.2 is more interesting. That is...

2. Fiona's ideal or perfect Twilight (in her fantasy) is being broken to dust. She has to accept a bitter truth that at the end, Twilight is just another human and that's he is not invincible. So she better stop putting him on pedestal, and worship him. It is about time she surpass her mentor.

"Ambitious Fiona" is still a far more interesting characterization rather than "crazy fangirl with crazy dreams Fiona".

3. Fiona that has realized that Twilight is just mere human, now change her target to Wheeler. She has to kill this man (but Wheeler survive) and thus begin the cat and mouse game between the two. (What? Fiona and Wheeler? Don't you guys see it in that panel? How Wheeler flirt with Fiona by mocking her incapability? Fiona-Wheeler--> Feeler? 🤣🤣🤣 lol, I'm joking. Or maybe not 👀)

4. Fiona and Yuri first meet! She is upset cause Yuri is getting beaten down! (Ok, this is just my YuriIona impossible wish 🤣)

Ahem, what? Twilight is destinied to be with Yor. So let's make harem for Fiona instead.

Ok ok.

Angsty thought now.

What will happen when Yor heard the news that both of her boys has now been hurt and hospitalized? They might tell her that both got in a "totally happen in different place" car accident. But Yor herself is not a stranger to martial arts. She would definitelly recognize the wounds on Loid's and Yuri's body as a result from fighting. She will be devastated for sure. But her reaction can be:

1. She blame herself, and then start to do her night job harder. Kill harder. Clean the place harder.

2. She connects the dots and realized that Loid and Yuri has fight the other. She might be very upset at both of them. Yor herself might be not thinking about the boy's secret identity, but this will lead Yuri to realize who Loid really is.

Either way, this arc is getting more and more interesting!!!

I can't wait to read more, Endo! 🥰🥰

[staroflupin]

James Potter who, despite what all may think, is so full of anger that it completely takes over his brain, makes him do the things he does and he doesn't feel an ounce of guilt.

When he torments Severus Snape, he doesn't feel an ounce of guilt, only a flame of rage igniting in his stomach. He doesn't know why he hates the Slytherin boy so much, he never did anything to him, yet he takes pleasure in making a pitiful fool out of the poor boy.

James Potter whose ego is bigger than the sun, not even Apollo in his chariot could move it. He knows he's the best, he doesn't even have to try. Quidditch captain, Head Boy, passing all his classes with O's and E's effortlessly. He knows he's attractive, all the girls that fawn over him say so. His mates as well, Sirius especially with "You've got it all, Prongs." He's a heartbreaker, anyone with the courage to confess gets let down with his brief declines for dates.

He has it all, and yet a part of him is unsatisfied.

Regulus Black is cruel, vindictive, and shallow. Anyone who attempts to approach him is met with an icy glare and harsh words to "Stay the fuck away." Half his house fears him, the other half hates him.

To him, that's okay. He may not have friends, but he has allies. He doesn't need that sort of thing anyway, he's the favorite son of the House of Black, as his parents reminded him.

Regulus loves the Dark Arts, loves the way the existence of them sends shivers down the spines of the Light families. He loves the power that comes from controlling them. To him, wielding that magic makes him feel invincible.

And yet, Regulus is utterly lonely, soft enough to be puppeteered by his family and molded into the perfect obedient son

And perhaps thats why Regulus and James worked so well together. They were both horrible in their own ways. James was well loved, and Regulus was well hated. They could look at the darkest, most vile parts of each other and still find themselves enamored with the other.

They were both hypocrites.

Regulus would admonish James each time he and his gang (that unfortunately consisted of his brother) would torment his fellow Slytherin housemates, no matter if they were pureblood, half-blood, or the rare muggleborn. Regulus constantly had the words "mudblood" and "blood traitor" on his lips, spat like venom casually. Yet, he still adored James Potter as if he and his family weren't the embodiment of everything he hated.

James would scold Regulus for his usage of the slurs he used quite frequently, yet never did much about it in the long run. James claimed himself a muggleborn ally, someone who didn't care about blood status or how rich or poor someone was, yet he kissed the the same lips that would curse out all he said that he believed in.

Perhaps that's why when Regulus took it an honor to join the Dark Lord, James said nothing at first. He still loved Regulus despite it all, because they were both hypocrites. They were different sides of the same coin.

But as time wore on, both of them started to distance themselves. Until they were complete strangers that had a shared past at one point. James moved on, finally getting with Lily and marrying her. Regulus devoted himself to the Dark Lord, later turning against him after his beliefs shifted against the cause he had joined in so naively.

Perhaps if they were different people, they would have worked out in the end. They could have stuck together despite it all. But time moved forwards, and history stayed as history.

[venisontransmission]

what celestial entity are you?

shooting star

you are the embodiment of a perfect moment—the kind that happens too quick and that you want to last forever. the kind that you blink and you’ll miss it. the kind that people wish they could capture in a bottle so they could crack it open and remember how it felt to be temporarily invincible. you’re good at being able to see beyond current circumstances—a true visionary. you’re the one who believes even when no one else does. the one willing to take risks in the slim chance they’ll pay off. you’re sometimes unrealistic and don’t make room for other viewpoints. you can become frustrated when others just don’t get it. you also have a hard time caring about things that don’t align with your worldview or people that have a different perspective. you are the pure essence of yearning. you’re never content—always searching, always wanting more. you inspire people to keep wishing to keep making new spur-of-the-moment dreams and decisions they might regret later. you remind people of their free will. that this life is their own and they can choose to make the most of it. you’re the sudden joy of a compliment from a stranger passing in the street. the moment when someone’s trying not to smile and finally yields. the first night in a new city grappling with what you’ve just done. there’s no going back, only your new reality—strange but not bad. just new. you sometimes have a hard time saying no or turning down an opportunity. you don’t want to miss out, but all those possibilities at once can get overwhelming. know that there’s still time. life won’t leave you behind and it's better to travel further in the long run than lose stamina halfway. you are endearingly earnest and just a complete joy to be around. your all-or-nothing approach is truly awe-inspiring and being around you is a reminder of all the magic that exists in this life. never lose your spark—the world needs you more than you

[beecreeper]

✨🍯🧀(for any of them but esp interested in briar :) )

You fool! You've given me the window to talk about everyone!

(Answering for Briar, Ferox, and Molli under the cut)

✨ (sparkles) - What gives your oc confidence? Is it something physical or more emotional? Do they inspire confidence in others? Why or why not?

Pre-tadpole Briar got a confidence boost from being conventionally attractive. She loved being perceived as sexy and using that to her advantage. She also got a bunch of confidence from the fact that she, you know, had an entire cult worshipping her. In her peak cult days her arrogance and confidence was through the roof. She essentially thought herself completely perfect and invincible. Post tadpole, losing both of those things in addition to how weak the amnesia makes her feel is a huge hit to her confidence and she is a lot more insecure (which manifests as her being grumpy and closed off). She gets more confidence back the more she's able to successfully manipulate people and ESPECIALLY the more Sceleritas tells her she's special and perfect 😚

Ferox is the exact opposite. External praise makes him feel mad uncomfortable, especially since it's rarely for something he feels proud of (like him being very good at smashing people's heads in). I do, however, think he has a very pragmatic and realistic view of his own skills. Like, he knows whether or not he can accomplish something and is neither over confident nor under confident about it. But like, his *personal* confidence? In the trash. A view like "I can successfully do a b and c tasks. I am a horrible person though."

Molli's confidence comes out when she can put on a mask. She is MUCH more confident in front of strangers than with people she has to interact with more than once. Like, she can perform for a crowd of people no problem but has to psyche herself up for conversations with the companions. Has a constant feeling of imposter syndrome and that the longer anyone spends with her the closer they are to realizing that she's not actually good enough.

For a summary/comparison: Briar's confidence is linked to what she is (I *am* a god. I *am* perfect), Ferox's is linked to what he can do (I can do this, I can do that), and Molli's is linked to what she can be for others. (I *will be* funny. I *will be* obedient.)

As far an inspiring confidence in others? Briar loves to make other people feel insecure as a hobby. Ferox will give you direct feedback do with that what you will. And Molli is a bard her literal job is being a team cheerleader.

🍯 (honey) - What are some reasons someone would like or get along with your oc? Are these positive traits something your oc is aware of?

Barring uuuhhhh just about everything else about her, Briar is entertaining. She's spontaneous and down to do just about anything for a laugh. You just gotta be a certain kind of fucked up for a lot of things she considers fun. And while her confidence ABSOLUTELY spills into arrogance, there is something to be said for someone who is rarely worried about things or second guessing themselves. She's also surprisingly charismatic and able to talk people into things they wouldn't normally approve of. She is very aware of this strength.

I think Ferox's strongest positive traits are that he's thoughtful and dedicated. Loyal to a fault tbh. He's the kind of person who notices a bunch of small things people and quietly acts on them. Like, he will notice your favorite food and specifically pick it up whenever he sees it around. Or does chores around camp without being asked or saying anything about it. He sees the actions he takes for other people as his value and isn't really aware that the root, his thoughtfulness about other people, is valuable in of itself.

Molli's got a bright personality (when she isn't paralyzed by nerves lol). Bouncy and sing song-y in a way that can be annoying but also a lot of people like. She's CUTE and she's FUNNY and she's KIND (Uuuuugh talking about this is embarrassing because she's so much a self insert that I feel like I'm just complimenting myself...)

🧀 (cheese) - What’s the funniest thing that your character has ever done? Alternatively, what’s the funniest thing that’s happened to them?

Ugh how was THIS the hardest question to answer???

I think if you asked Briar, she'd say the funniest thing she's ever done was this

Convincing Yurgir to kill all his minions and then himself is also up there

For the other two??? Uuuuuuuuh

I dunno I don't have a specific stories in mind but I would say for Ferox it must have been some sort of sweet moment when him and Myrala were traveling together. Some sort of harmless mishap that they could both laugh at together.

And then for Molli I think her funniest moments come out in surprising people with how lewd her performance style can be compared to how cute and silly her outward appearance is. Busting out whatever the Faerun equivalent is of Baby Got Back around the campfire. Or when she sang a dirty mermaid song to save Mirkon from the harpies.

[gremlin2]

gary: future, hate diane king: alone, fear

What's the worst possible future for your OC? Are they taking steps to avoid that outcome? Are they even aware it's a possibility?

well! gary might be headed towards a worst case scenario he didnt even know was possible now that shudder is involved. up until now his fear has always been failing at his career, all his hopes have kind of been riding on this new job even though its an unremarkable position, all things considered. but now with shudder his morality is eroding and thats opening up a whole mess of other potential risks

What does your OC hate? Why? How do they act towards the object of their hatred?

himself 😐😐😐 he is Trying to improve his self-image but it isn't going so well and this is definitely something shudder tries to exploit

How does your OC deal with loneliness? Have they ever been completely alone before? How do they act when there's no one around to see them?

diane has always been pretty independent but doesn't like to be alone if that makes sense. like she's confident enough to go to a club or bar by herself and is comfortable in the company of strangers. it's very rare for her to be Totally isolated because she's out on the town as much as possible and her "home" is just whatever van or hotel room she's living out of at the time. there isn't much difference in how she behaves alone vs with other people, though.

What is your OC's greatest fear? What do they do when confronted with it? Are they open with their fear, or do they hide it away?

this is the perfect segway from the previous question because i think isolation IS her greatest fear. being physically overpowered is also a big one, it's such a rare thing for her to experience bc of her werewolfism that when it Does happen it throws her off very badly. she's just used to feeling invincible most of the time!!

[bigdumbbambieyes]

tag game: stranger things edition

I was tagged by @thewaywardkees, @grey-sides, @thatgirlwithasquid, @dragonflylady77, @ratbastardbilly - thank you all! 🤍

1.ride or die ship (your otp): harringrove 🥰

2.most annoying ship: i'm not annoyed by any ships in particular! i've always been very much a 'ship and let ship' person

3.second favourite ship: it's a tie between cunningway/cheerguard and cunningrove/calicheer! (i refuse to pick a ship name leave me alone akjgnfj)

4.favourite platonic relationship: Max and El (canon), Billy and Chrissy/Heather/El (fanon)

5.underrated ship: cunningwaaaaay, these femmes belong together and they need to be adored by everyone!!

6.overrated ship: 😇

7.one thing i would change in canon: i'd restore the original Billy and Steve as Besties plotline for S3!! give me besties!harringrove!! it's what they deserved!!

8.something canon did right: the 80's aesthetic

9.a thing i'm proud of creating for the fandom PLEASE BRAG ABOUT YOURSELF I WANT TO SEE/READ YOUR ART: within me, an invincible summer! and everything under my 'bambiwrites' tag

10.a character who is perfect to me (wouldn't change a thing): Bob Fucking Newby 😭

11.the character i relate to the most and why: probably Steve Harrington! i can really relate to him in the way that he's a former mean girl trying to be better lol he's also a very lonely person and that really resonates with me. he cares a lot about other people and feels a sense of responsibility where he really shouldn't, he can be selfish and stubborn, he wants to love and be loved, etc.

12.character i hate the most and why: Neil Hargrove 🙂🔪 i do not need to explain

13.something i've learned from the fandom: give me a minute to just say that y'all are some of the most resilient people i have ever met and i really admire that!! it's not easy to openly love a character/ship in a very mean and hateful fandom, but that doesn't stop you - it almost fuels you to continue to create what you want and to not let anyone stop you!! anyways, the hg community is truly a diamond in the rough and i'm so happy to be a small part of it bc i've learned a lot about abuse victims, i gained more sympathy for people who are ‘bad’ abuse survivors, i have different perspective on things, etc. basically you've opened my mind even further than it was before lol i appreciate you all!! 🤍

14.three tags i seek out on ao3: Modern AU, Established/Developing Relationship, Hurt/Comfort

15.a song i strongly associate with my otp/favourite character:

Harringrove: True Believer by Dragonette Steve: Love Me by Elvis Presley Billy: Shake It Out by Florence + The Machine

my no-pressure tags (ignore this if you've already done it or don't want to lol): @hephaestn, @weird-an, @robthegoodfellow, @martianclown, @simplydes, @disdaidal, @discodeviant, @harringroveera, @oopsiedaisiesbaby, @wickedlydevious, @yikesharringrove, @metalscoops, @akioukun

[sparviero44]

Always on the crest of the wave, even at 93 years old

I like, in fact, I have always liked, because it is an actor who has only two displayed expressions: one with the hat and the other without a hat ". It's been more than 60 years from the statement that he made Sergio Leone Clint Eastwood. From the Italian director's favorite actor in the famous 'Trilogy of the dollar' planetary star able to stock up on Oscar Awards, the American actor and director - but also a film producer and composer - has come a long way, becoming one of the landmarks Hollywood. Today Clint Eastwood celebrates 93 years.

It was 1964 when a stranger Clint Eastwood - who had assets of a handful of films not exactly memorable, but he had made the center on television with the series westerns 'Rawhide' ( 'Rawhide') - was chosen by Sergio Leone to interpret the bounty killer unnamed 'for a Few dollars More'. The success was immediate, so much so that Eastwood starred also in two other Leone's films - 'For a Few Dollars More' (1965) and 'The Good, the Bad and the Ugly' (1966) - which would then formed the 'Trilogy dollar'.

Besides Leone, another director "cult" was important in Eastwood's career: Don Siegel, considered one of the masters of the detective film and action. With American filmmaker Eastwood all very well he turned five films, success: 'Coogan's Bluff' (1969), 'Mules for Sister Sara' (1969), 'The long night of the soldier Jonathan' (1971), ' Dirty Harry: the case Scorpio is yours! '(1971) and' Escape from Alcatraz '(1979).

A lot of the acclaimed masterpieces by critics and audiences - 'The Outlaw Josey Wales' (1976),' Bird '(1988),' A Perfect World '(1993),' The Bridges of Madison County '(1995),' Power absolute '(1997),' Mystic River '(2003),' Million Dollar Baby '(2004),' Flags of Our Fathers '(2006),' Letters from Iwo Jima '(2006),' Changeling '(2008)' Gran Torino '(2008),' Invictus - invincible '(2009),' J. Edgar '(2011),' American Sniper '(2014),' Sully '(2016),' The Courier - The Mule '(2018),' Richard Jewell '(2019) - won many awards. Four Academy Awards - two for 'Unforgiven' (1992, Best Film and Best Director), same for 'Million Dollar Baby' (2004, Best Film and Best Director) - plus one memory to the Irving G. Thalberg assigned in 1995. Eastwood also he won six Golden Globe.

Sempre sulla cresta dell'onda, anche a 93 anni.

Mi piace , anzi , mi è da sempre piaciuto, perché è un attore che ha solo due espressoni: una con il cappello e l’altra senza cappello“. Sono passati più di 60 anni dall’affermazione che Sergio Leone fece di Clint Eastwood. Da attore feticcio del regista italiano nella celebre ‘Trilogia del dollaro‘ a star planetaria capace di fare incetta di Premi Oscar, l’attore e regista americano – ma anche produttore cinematografico e compositore – ha fatto moltissima strada, diventando uno dei punti di riferimento di Hollywood. Oggi Clint Eastwood festeggia 93 anni.

Era il 1964 quando uno sconosciuto Clint Eastwood – che aveva all’attivo una manciata di film non proprio indimenticabili, ma che aveva fatto centro in tv con la serie western ‘Rawhide‘ (‘Gli uomini della prateria’) – fu scelto da Sergio Leone per interpretare il bounty killer senza nome in ‘Per un pugno di dollari‘. Il successo fu immediato, tanto che Eastwood recitò anche in altri due film di Leone – ‘Per qualche dollaro in più‘ (1965) e ‘Il buono, il brutto e il cattivo‘ (1966) – che avrebbero poi formato la ‘Trilogia del dollaro’.

Oltre a Leone, un altro regista “cult” fu importante per la carriera di Eastwood: Don Siegel, considerato uno dei maestri del cinema poliziesco e d’azione. Col cineasta americano Eastwood girò ben cinque film, tutti di grande successo: ‘L’uomo dalla cravatta di cuoio‘ (1969), ‘Gli avvoltoi hanno fame‘ (1969), ‘La notte brava del soldato Jonathan‘ (1971), ‘Ispettore Callaghan: il caso Scorpio è tuo!‘ (1971) e ‘Fuga da Alcatraz‘ (1979).

Tantissimi i capolavori acclamati da pubblico e critica – ‘Il texano dagli occhi di ghiaccio‘ (1976), ‘Bird‘ (1988), ‘Un mondo perfetto‘ (1993), ‘I ponti di Madison County‘ (1995), ‘Potere assoluto‘ (1997), ‘Mystic River‘ (2003), ‘Million Dollar Baby‘ (2004), ‘Flags of Our Fathers‘ (2006), ‘Lettere da Iwo Jima‘ (2006), ‘Changeling‘ (2008) ‘Gran Torino‘ (2008), ‘Invictus – L’invincibile‘ (2009), ‘J. Edgar‘ (2011), ‘American Sniper‘ (2014), ‘Sully‘ (2016), ‘Il corriere – The Mule‘ (2018), ‘Richard Jewell‘ (2019) – molti i premi conquistati. Quattro Premi Oscar – due per ‘Gli spietati‘ (1992, miglior film e miglior regia), altrettanti per ‘Million Dollar Baby‘ (2004, miglior film e miglior regia) – più uno alla memoria Irving G. Thalberg assegnatogli nel 1995. Eastwood ha anche vinto sei Golden Globe.

#clinteastwood #sergioleone #cinema #film #thegoodthebadandtheugly #western #movie #spaghettiwestern #leevancleef #movies #enniomorricone #eliwallach #dirtyharry #art #hollywood #s #cowboy #ilbuonoilbruttoilcattivo #angelinajolie #gianmariavolont #forafewdollarsmore #perunpugnodidollari #films #tuco #perqualchedollaroinpi #actor #mariobrega #grantorino #cinematography #richardjewell

[crowlore]

QUESTION TIME!!!! 1, 9, 18, 22, 25!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ANSWER TIME!!! hello noa

1. Song of the year?

based on sheer amount of plays: DEBT COLLECTOR by Jhariah (who i'll be seeing live in 2024 grins) but for a song specifically released this year: Bardaginn by Kalandra

9. Best month for you this year?

hmm..that's a tough one but it's probably a tie between october (genuinely solid birthday month) and april (because i was on a manic high for most of spring and thought i was invincible)

18. A memorable meal this year?

you know what i'm about. food forever food alwaysss i've found a lot of phenomenal local places this year that i frequent whenever i can afford it, including a halal place with the most decadent lamb i've ever tasted. but also i'm taking some recipe concepts into the new year so expect me to perfect a meal or two myself soon

22. Favorite place you visited this year?

i didn't get around as much as i would have liked this year, but i did have an excellent outing downtown a couple cities over back in august. commuted by rail for a show at this tiny little club but went hours early so i could peruse the food scene and i was not disappointed! chatted with a bunch of interesting strangers over beers at a taco joint for dinner

25. Did you create any characters (in games, art, or writing) this year? Describe one

i'm chronically always making new characters, but a friend favorite from 2023 would likely be wren, who i slapped together for an adventure league campaign but ended up being so fond of i pulled him to maintain creative control. he's a half-elf light domain cleric of sune with a rather unorthodox approach to faith and an eyebrow raising assortment of skills. don't worry too much about his incredibly high deception and sleight of hand modifiers though i promise he's just a normal dude

[hendolish]

gonna need to hear a loooooooooot more about hendolish camming au🤤am guessing jack is the camboy? (irl loves to perform and get attention especially from hendo) jordan's about to waste a ton of time money and tokens to watch a spoiled exhibitionist. there's so much potential for drama and roadblocks with that ideas as well, the pitfalls of dating someone who doesn't have a regular private life and shows all of themself online to total strangers for work (no judgement ofc! just that it's tricky to navigate)

also the love island epilogue is exciting! dying to know if hendolish went the distance and stayed together to make it work in the big bad real world (and if stonesford did too). when we left them hendo had already said the l word to jack so he at least had serious plans for them both..

hendolish camboy au 📹

my thoughts exactly anon!! i was thinking about another camboy au from a different fandom that has always stuck with me and then it just suddenly hit me how perfect the dynamic would be for hendolish and i literally went into a frenzy writing everything i have so far !!!

camboy jack is as cocky and exhibitionist as you would expect, and a proper little british chav one at that. he hasn’t been a camboy for long but he’s now 18ish and has established his own little fan base and regular viewers with his live shows that make him good money. this is where jordan comes in.

jordan’s still a footballer, just breaking into the first team at liverpool, so he’s under a lot of pressure… guess what he turns to to relieve that stress? ;) he stumbles across jack’s liveshow completely by accident the first time but is immediately hooked by the absolutely obscene things that fall from this brummie camboy’s lips and the way he seems to revel in performing for the camera.

of course jordan gets hooked and eventually starts sending the lad money and commenting on his live shows and eventually, before he knows it, jordan becomes jack’s top donator. jack recognises him in the chat now and sometimes directs questions directly towards jordan which makes him feel pathetically special, but then one day jack offers him a private stream just for him ‘to say thank you:)’ and the rest is history…

here’s one of my fav snippets from what i have written!

As he moves to fiddle with the remote, the man’s hair falls over the thin headband pushing it back, blonde highlights catching in the light, and Jordan can’t draw his gaze away from his face.

His cheeks are flushed and red with exertion, but that smirked grin digging into them seems to be invincible. Jordan grazes his thumb over the head of his cock as the man’s eyelashes flutter and a soft moan falls from his lips when the vibrator presses further inside him.

“bigdaddy21, thanks for the dono,” Jordan catches his accent this time, Brummie for sure. He doesn’t stop moving as he talks, fucking himself downwards, “You can just call me ‘Jack.’”

Jack. Jordan thinks as he grips his cock more firmly, trailing his gaze over the sharp jut of his jaw and his round, bright eyes. Jesus, this kid can’t be a day over eighteen.

That doesn’t stop him from wanking himself off either way, watching and listening intently as Jack continues to fuck the vibrator into his hole and pant out moans that get louder by the minute. Jordan thinks he can’t get any more fucked, but then Jack starts talking.

♡

Three Lions Island epilogue 🏝️

in my mind both jack and hendo would’ve been pretty serious about things!! they’d have their problems (jack being a tad immature, hendo’s stubbornness) but they’d work around it because they know the other is worth it and neither of them have had that before <3

john and jordan’s relationship on the outside is perhaps a bit more rocky- they bicker and fight all the time but it’s healthier to address the problems rather than letting them build up, right? they always kiss and make up (literally). sometimes they fuck to get it out of their system and it usually works. they love each other but hardly say the words out loud. it’s an understanding between just the two of them.

check out my previous ask for more info on the plot of the epilogue!! ♡

[charlottexbettencourt]

Charlotte "Charlie" Bettencourt | 41 | Region Manager (Lower Manhattan) for The Syndicate & Worldwide Head of Sales for Global Fine Arts at The Sotheby's

Part 1: Family and Childhood

Charlotte "Charlie" Bettencourt is from Paris, France. She was born to the Bettencourt family, one of France’s most influential families going centuries

Her father Marc is one of the country’s (and the world’s) top financiers while her mother Sandrine is a socialite. They were a perfect power couple. Respected and looked-up to, but they were not so much parents

Charlotte never lacked material things, but lacked her parents' love and attention. Charlotte grew up isolated in the shadow of her perfect parents,  with a lot of pent-up anger and frustration. She had to learn to be independent and self-sufficient, often entertaining herself by going to museums and reading books on history, arts, and philosophy. 

While she learned to be independent, Charlotte grew up with a sense of emptiness inside, and as a result, she developed a detachment from her emotions and became very adept at hiding her true feelings. She also struggled to connect with others emotionally and had a hard time understanding the emotions of others, often finding herself easily bored by mundane or routine activities.

All throughout her teenage years, her favorite things are weapons, physical training, and the arts, dividing her time between the shooting range, school, and Paris’ wide array of art museums. 

Her emotional void and natural intelligence ultimately led her down a dark path.

Part 2: Birth of a Monster & Moving to New York

At just 16, Charlotte killed someone for the first time. The victim was one of her classmates who had been bullying her lab partner. Charlotte toyed with the boy’s life until she killed him at his home, covered the murder up by committing arson, and got away scot-free

She felt invincible and loved the fact that his life was hers. Charlotte waited for the guilt to overtake her, but it never came. The more she thought about what happened that day, the happier and more satisfied she got.

Afterward, Charlotte began to experiment with more dangerous behaviors as a way of stimulating herself, often engaging in risky activities where she would end up in various violent situations just to feel the rush of adrenaline that came with it. She became increasingly adept at manipulating and controlling others, using her sociopathic tendencies to her advantage.

Despite her dark side, Charlotte still found solace and meaning in the world of art and stayed true to her love of the arts. This led to her decision to move to the United States after finishing high school. Being a highly intelligent young woman, Columbia offered her a spot in their History of Art program and Charlotte accepted without hesitation.

Part 3: The Syndicate and The Sotheby's

During her time at university, during one of her shooting practices at the range, a man approached her and praised her skills. He wanted her to prove her worth and as a lover of challenges, Charlotte agreed. The man took her to a dark basement where she ended up killing a stranger who was gagged and bound to a chair without asking, knowing, or caring why he deserved it. That’s how she ended up joining the Syndicate

Charlotte quickly learned that she had a natural talent for violence, intimidation, and murder. She became more involved in the gang and began to take on increasingly dangerous and illegal assignments, eventually transitioning into being the group’s well-known, ruthless assassin.

Despite her secret life as a member of the Syndicate and assassin, Charlotte continued to maintain her public persona as an upstanding member of society. She graduated from Columbia with a degree in Art History

She began working as a Curatorial Assistant at the Met and became the Head of Sales for Impressionist & Modern Art at Christie’s 2 years later and then Sotheby’s Worldwide Head of Sales for Global Fine Art 4 years after that.

She led the team to a historic result in 2019, when Sotheby's achieved $8.9 billion in total sales, an all-time record for the company. Charlotte also secured many high-profile consignments in her career and driven landmark prices in a variety of selling categories from contemporary and modern art to jewelry and design

Not only did she excel and got promoted in her “front” career, but she was also promoted to Region Manager of the Syndicate, covering the Lower Manhattan area, a testament to her skills as an assassin and her ability to operate successfully within the criminal underworld

Charlotte built a formidable reputation as a skilled and reliable killer, earning the trust and respect of her superiors in the organization. This allowed her to cement her position as one of the most fearsome and respected figure in the business.

Part 4: How People See the Monster

Charlotte’s reputation in the mundane world is as intact as her reputation in her other life. Her life as region manager for The Syndicate, a closely-guarded secret. Her position as Head of Sales at Sotheby's gave her a legitimate cover for her activities, and her expertise in global fine arts and deep knowledge of the art world were highly valued by her colleagues and clients alike.

To the outside world, Charlotte was a sophisticated and cultured individual was known for her philanthropic work, donating generously to various arts organizations and cultural institutions. Her contributions helped fund exhibitions and scholarships

In many ways, Charlie’s double life as a socialite and patron of the arts is a perfect cover for her activities as a member of the Syndicate. Her position of power and influence gives her access to valuable information and resources, while her status as a respected member of society allows her to operate under the radar without arousing suspicion.

Despite the danger and risk involved in leading a double life, Charlotte  thrives on the excitement and power that it brings. She is a master at compartmentalizing her emotions, able to switch between her public persona and her secret life with ease, always staying several steps ahead of those who would seek to uncover her true identity.