#it all means something; and yet nothing to me{dash games}

[augustinewrites]

tsumiki asks the question on a rare, relaxed saturday afternoon. with both the kid’s baseball games canceled due to some heavy morning rain, the four of you were taking the time to do some much needed relaxation. 

“how did you guys end up together?” 

satoru lifts his head from your lap, where you’d been plucking his brows. “isn’t it obvious? it was due to my roguishly handsome good looks and sharp comedic wit.” 

megumi scoffs from his spot on the armchair. “i doubt that.”

you press your cheek against your boyfriend’s shoulder, laughing. “that’s cute, babe, but do you want to tell them how it really happened? or should i?”

“i’ll tell them,” he volunteers. “because i have been in love with you a lot longer than you might think.”

_____

satoru meets you when he’s seventeen years old. (it’s a stupid age. ‘cause when you’re seventeen, you’re all hormones and ego and think the world revolves around you.) 

so he doesn’t pay you much mind when yaga first introduces you to his little class, because honestly? he’d taken one look at you, fresh out of the countryside with your perfectly pressed uniform, not a hair out of place or a battle scar on your body and was extremely underwhelmed. so he’d brushed you off like lint on his sleeve, because he doubted you’d even survive the year. no point in getting to try and know you. 

that same afternoon, you’d unleashed hell on him with your shikigami and almost broken his nose. 

“i’m sorry,” you’d muttered when you’d forcibly accompanied him to the infirmary. 

“you don’t sound sorry,” he’d huffed. his nose (and his ego) were definitely bruised. 

you rolled your eyes and muttered something that was probably really mean under your breath. he’s about to tell you off when he feels blood start to drip again, cursing and pinching the bridge of his nose as he tilts his head back.

“you’re supposed to tilt your head forward,” you sigh, handing him another folded up piece of paper towel. 

he doesn’t take it, glaring down at you. “why would i do that?”

shoko and geto walk behind you both, highly amused by your bickering. “they’d be good together, don’t you think?”

“if they don’t kill each other first.” the latter chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets as he eyes you both. 

“if you tilt your head forward, then the blood drips out and not in–”

“why? that’s where the blood is supposed to be.”

“no, it’s not, and if you’d just let me finish what i was saying instead of interrupting me–”

it’s not the last time he interrupts you. it’s not the last time the two of you bicker or the last time he walks with you through the courtyard. days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months, and even though you’d almost broken his nose that first day, he quickly realizes that he couldn’t imagine you anywhere but with him. 

_____

it’s late when he sneaks out of your room, sunset streaming through the courtyard as he peeks around the corner, on the lookout for any faculty before he dashes back to the boy’s dorm…

…only to run into geto, who’s standing outside. he feels bad for a second, because they haven’t really talked since…well, everything.

but he just flicks his cigarette, grinning in that all too knowing way of his. “what were you doing in the girl’s wing, creeper?”

“nothing,” he lies, but his cheeks are warm, there are butterflies in his stomach, and he can’t seem to stop smiling.

his best friend looks at him. really looks at him. “oh, man. you’re so obvious.”

“i’m not obvious, you’re obvious,” he retorts.

geto takes another drag before holding it out to him. gojo shakes his head. “you’re one of the smartest, yet dumbest people i know. so i’m going to help you now, because i think without guidance, you are capable of making extremely rash romantic decisions.”

“that’s not true–”

“it’s very true. like that fact that you’re in love with…” geto nods his head towards the girl’s dorm, grinning. 

he tucks his chin under the collar of his jacket when he feels heat crawl up his neck, looking away. “that’s ridiculous. i’m not…it’s not like that. we’re just…hanging out.”

“really?” his friend checks. “because the way that you look at her, i mean…wow. we’ve all seen it. you look at her like you hear tiny forest animals singing whenever she walks into a room.” 

satoru bristles slightly, because he’s not entirely off the mark. 

(but seventeen is a stupid age, and at the time he knew he cared for you deeply, but he didn’t know he loved you yet.)

geto knows though, and just shrugs. “i know you’ll see it someday too.”

_____

“do these shoes go with my outfit?” you ask, looking over your shoulder.

gojo shrugs, hardly even glancing up from his phone. “sure.” 

“you didn’t even look!” 

he exhales a harsh breath, tossing his phone onto your bed as he looks up at you. “why are you trying so hard for some guy you don’t even like? i mean– have you even met him?”

“no,” you sigh, smoothing your hands over your dress. “but me meeting him is really important to my father.” 

he leans back against your headboard, folding his hands behind his head. “why?”

“because a proposal from the kamo clan is a really big deal.” you startle when he sits up so fast that his glasses fall from their perch atop his head. “oh my– what’s wrong?!”

“everything about that sentence. a proposal? as in to be wed?”

“yes, gojo,” you confirm, turning back to adjust your earrings in the mirror. “i was born outside of the zen’in clan, but i have their inherited technique. my dad…all these years he’s worked hard to keep me off their radar so i wouldn’t be stuck there. so i wouldn’t be unhappy like he was. if i accept this proposal and join the kamo clan…all his hard work wouldn’t be for nothing.” 

“the kamo clan,” he repeats, shaking his head. he’s not sure why he’s so annoyed. it’s hard to pinpoint the exact reason. “they’re based in kyoto. you’d– you’d have to leave.”

he doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but all the unsaid things that he’s been too scared to admit to himself (and especially to you) must be written all over his face, because you hesitate before you step out the door, looking back at him hopefully. 

“have fun,” is all he says instead, pretending not to notice when your expression falls. “i’ll probably be out when you get back, but just text so i know you’re alright and haven’t already been whisked off to kyoto.”

_____

“but you never joined the kamo clan,” tsumiki notes, sending you a questioning look. “why did your dad to change his mind?”

“i…actually still don’t know,” you admit, smiling softly. “he’s never told me.” 

“well, whatever the reason, it doesn’t matter now. ‘cause you’re right where you’re supposed to be,” satoru grins. he presses a soft kiss to your lips, but pulls back with a laugh when the kids groan loudly. “on that note, i’m going to start cleaning up.” 

megumi, who’d been silent the entire story, gets up to help, trailing after him into the kitchen.

“it was you,” he says once you and tsumiki are out of earshot.

satoru sets the stack of plates on the counter, glancing over his shoulder at him. “hm?”

“you made some kind of deal with her family, didn’t you? like you did for me.” 

he doesn’t answer right away, moving leftover vegetables into a container. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

besides, that was then and this was now. he’s older and wiser and he knows that he’s loved you since he was seventeen years old.

_____

your father seems taken aback, and not just because satoru gojo was standing in his study, but because of what he was proposing. “excuse me?”

blue eyes land on a photo of you on your father’s desk. you’re cherished here. loved. letting you go must be hard, even if it’s for your own good. “you want to keep her away from the zen’in’s right? if she joins the gojo clan, we’ll make the idea of even coming near her radioactive.” 

“but the only way to do that is–”

“marriage. to me, specifically,” he finishes with an easy shrug, as if he’s merely speaking about the weather. “quick, easy, simple. now you can reject the kamo clan’s proposal.”

your father is a smart man, that much is obvious. he’s kept you out of the zen’in’s grasp for years, even after news of your inherited technique had spread. there’s no way he’d turn down a deal as good as this.

“i have nothing to offer you,” he says now, expression pinched. “no dowry, or things of the like.”

“i don’t need your money,” he dismisses with a wave of his hand. “in fact, i only have three conditions.”

gojo’s three conditions

[anniebeemine]

the most dangerous game- s.r. x fem!reader

warnings: smuttttt, porn with a dash of plot.

Spencer wasn't one to lose his cool. He had always been a calm man, quietly harboring everything he ever had to, which is why it was such a genuine shock when he had you pinned against the wall, his lips on yours.

You had been purposely pushing his buttons. You'd been mouthing off all day, challenging everything he said. Even during this morning's discussion over the best way to cook an egg. He said scrambled, you said sunny side up.

The tension had been building ever since. Every quip, every playful jab had ignited something between you—something that simmered just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to erupt.

Now, with your back against the cool wall, the air around you crackled with unspoken words. His breath mingled with yours, warm and heavy, as if the world outside had faded into oblivion. You could see the surprise flickering in his eyes, a rare moment of vulnerability that made your heart race.

“Spencer…” you started, but the words were swallowed by the heat of the moment. Instead, you leaned into him, deepening the kiss. The taste of mint lingered on his lips, a reminder of the casual coffee break that had turned into a battle of wits.

He pulled back slightly, searching your eyes for clarity. “You really know how to push my buttons, don’t you?” His voice was low, a mix of irritation and something softer—something that made your pulse quicken.

The final straw came when you walked by, pressing the power button to his computer. It was one of the rare afternoons where he actually touched the piece of technology. He let out a huff, standing abruptly. You'd followed him to the hallway, trying to call out but a hand had wrapped around your wrist, pulling you into a blind spot.

You looked up at him, batting your eyelashes at him. "What do you mean?"

He scoffed. "I'll be at your house at 7:30." His voice is low and husky. "I want to find you in bed waiting for me, princess."

He lets you go, adjusting his vest as he turns.

Your heart raced at his words, the playful challenge now taking on a more serious tone. Spencer was unpredictable in this moment, and it sent a thrill through you. You watched him walk away, the confidence in his stride leaving you breathless and more than a little intrigued.

“Wait, what?” you called after him, your mind still processing the intensity of what just happened. You were used to teasing him, but this felt different—charged, electric.

He paused, glancing back at you with a smirk. “You heard me,” he replied, his tone teasing yet serious. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your cheeks flushing with excitement. “What if I don’t feel like following orders?”

Spencer turned fully to face you, his expression a mix of amusement and challenge. "Then you get nothing."

With that, he walked away, leaving you in the hallway, a whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind. The casual rivalry you had developed over the weeks had shifted into something more intense, something you had both skirted around, but never fully acknowledged until now.

+++

By the time 7:30 rolled around, you were a mess. You sat on your bed, the front door unlocked, your clothes discarded in a haphazard pile next to the bed. The anticipation was overwhelming, the memories of the last time Spencer had been here flooding your mind like a vivid daydream.

You remembered how you had surrendered to him completely, lost in the whirlwind of passion that had enveloped you both.

The bruises he left behind lingered like a badge of honor, a reminder of how he had marked you as his own. Every touch, every thrust had left an imprint, both physically and mentally, that you could still recall vividly. You had slept for ten hours straight afterward, utterly exhausted yet profoundly satisfied, a deep contentment settling into your bones.

Now, those memories sent a gush of slick through your folds, igniting a familiar ache between your thighs. Your heart raced as you thought about the way his lips had felt against your skin, how he had explored every inch of you as if you were a rare book he couldn’t put down. The way he whispered your name, the rasp in his voice as he pulled you closer, all made your skin tingle with longing.

His presence broke your daydream. He had already discarded his tie and vest. He rolled his sleeves up to his forearms, a look of amusement on his face.

Spencer took a step closer, closing the distance between you. “I do like it when you’re waiting for me,” he murmured, his tone dropping to a husky whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

The heat radiating off him was intoxicating, and the playful spark in his eyes made your pulse race. You could feel the chemistry between you simmering, the air thick with anticipation as you both stood on the brink of something deliciously reckless.

Your pulse quickened as Spencer closed the distance, his gaze dark with desire yet tinged with that playful mischief you’d come to love. His hands reached out, brushing your skin as if he were memorizing every curve, every inch, like he’d done before. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your neck as he leaned in closer, his lips grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I see you followed instructions,” he whispered, his voice low and laced with satisfaction. “Good girl.”

Your body responded instantly to his words, a surge of heat pooling between your thighs. You bit your lip, resisting the urge to speak, wanting him to take full control. Spencer had a way of walking the line between being commanding and attentive—he knew exactly what you needed, sometimes even before you did.

He shifted his weight, his hand pressing against your lower back as he guided you gently onto the bed. The mattress dipped beneath you as he settled beside you, his fingers trailing up your thigh, his touch igniting sparks of electricity that made your breath hitch.

“You’ve been teasing me all day,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the curve of your shoulder. “And now… you’re going to make it up to me.”

His hand slid higher, his fingers grazing your folds, finding you already slick with arousal. Spencer let out a soft chuckle, his thumb circling your clit with deliberate slowness. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

You could only nod, words escaping you as your body responded to his touch, arching into him. The teasing, the playful banter—all of it had been leading to this moment, where the tension between you finally snapped, giving way to pure, unbridled need.

Spencer moved over you, his lips trailing kisses down your neck, his hands exploring your body as if he couldn’t get enough. “Tell me what you want,” he demanded, his voice rough with hunger.

“I want you,” you breathed, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. “All of you.”

His response was immediate, his mouth crashing down onto yours, the kiss deep and filled with a fervor that made your head spin. His hand found its way between your legs again, and this time, he wasn’t teasing. He slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right, making your back arch off the bed as a moan escaped your lips.

Spencer’s lips curved into a smirk against your skin. “That’s what I thought.”

He continued his slow, deliberate assault on your senses, his fingers working you expertly as his mouth explored every inch of your exposed skin. The way he touched you, the way he claimed you—it was overwhelming in the best possible way.

And just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he withdrew his fingers, making you whimper at the loss. But before you could protest, he was already positioning himself between your legs, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

“You ready for me?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.

You nodded, your body trembling with anticipation. “Yes… please.”

With that, Spencer thrust into you, filling you completely, making you cry out in pleasure. He set a slow, steady pace at first, his hands gripping your hips as he moved within you, each thrust deliberate, controlled.

But as the tension between you grew, so did his pace, the slow burn giving way to something more primal, more desperate. He leaned down, capturing your lips in another heated kiss, swallowing your moans as he drove deeper, harder, his control slipping with every thrust.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his back, your body moving in time with his, chasing that edge, that sweet release that was just out of reach.

And when it finally came, it hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you with such intensity that you saw stars. You cried out his name, your body shuddering beneath him as pleasure coursed through you, leaving you breathless and trembling.

Spencer followed moments later, his own release hitting him hard as he buried himself deep inside you, groaning your name as he came, his body tensing before collapsing onto you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, your heavy breathing filling the room as you both tried to catch your breath. Spencer’s weight was comforting against you, his arms wrapping around you as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice soft now, the edge of command replaced with something tender. “Always.”

You smiled, your heart swelling at his words, at the way he held you close, as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

“Always,” you whispered back, knowing that no matter how much you pushed his buttons, no matter how much you teased and tested him, you’d always end up right here—in his arms, exactly where you belonged.

[runariya]

Prompt game:

🥰🤪👽

Alien Jungkook's tentacles try to get attention from the reader. But reader is mad and giving Jungkook the silent treatment. So tentacles decide to take it in their hands (?). I'm sorry my imagination is bad, but i trust yours ;)

a/n: I hope it's alright that I used this request as a Y(E)ARNED bonus...it just fits the couple so well

To spend your days alongside Jungkook is nothing short of pure bliss, a kind of beauty that shows itself in moments both grand and unspoken. There is, indeed, a profound sweetness in being the object of his love, of his adoration, a warmth that seeps into every corner of your existence, making even the most ordinary hours shimmer with a peculiar magic. 

Yet, as with all such beautiful things, this love, though a balm for your soul, does not come without its moments of maddening frustration—little flashes of exasperation that threaten, every now and again, to undo all the softness with their dizzying intensity.

It is during these moments of quiet contentment, where you’ve developed a peculiar fondness for collecting miniature porcelain figurines of Earth’s animals—everything from delicate little ducks to turtles no bigger than a thumb, from bees captured mid-flight to cows rendered in the most absurd detail. 

You‘ve chosen each piece meticulously, though the greater part of the collection, truth be told, bears the mark of Jungkook’s love and generosity. There’s no species left unrepresented, no space on the shelf unfilled. But amidst them all, there is one that‘s your favourite, a tiny maneki-neko with a raised paw and a chubby little face, who commands the centre of the shelf of your now shared home. And of all the figurines, this one—Jackson, with his impossibly cute charm—holds a special place in your heart, the only figurine affectionately christened with a name, as if that alone elevates him from all the others. 

So when you hear the unmistakable, gut-wrenching sound of porcelain colliding with the hard floor while you’re busy tidying the kitchen, something inside you breaks too. 

You turn and see Jungkook standing by the shelf, frozen, his wide eyes filled with a kind of helpless guilt, his lips parting to release the softest, most regretful “oh-oh” that barely registers in the quiet room. Jackson, once proudly perched in his rightful place, is nowhere to be seen, and the realisation dawns on you as swiftly as the growing pit of frustration inside you.

“What did you do?” you ask, your voice tinged with horror as you throw unceremoniously the dish towel aside, running towards the shelf, your heart and mind already brace themselves for the worst.

Jungkook’s wide, panic-filled eyes lock onto yours, and as you glance down to to find poor Jackson, or rather what remains of him, shattered and scattered across the floor in a hundred tiny pieces before Jungkook’s feet, your heart shatters too, as though a part of it has been dashed against the cold floor with Jackson. 

“No…” you desperately whisper, the word as fragile as all your figurines, as you resist the overwhelming urge to drop to your knees  and gather the broken pieces, knowing full well that no amount of careful reconstruction will restore Jackson to his former state.

This isn’t the first time Jungkook, with all his towering presence and boundless energy, has accidentally decimated one of your precious figurines, his sheer physicality, though endearing at many other times, always at odds with the delicate world you curated and that is so easily fractured. But this time, it’s Jackson, and somehow that makes it worse.

“I—I didn’t mean to,” he stammers, his voice fumbling over itself as he scrambles for some sort of excuse, eyes darting as if searching for a way out of the mess he’s created.

“Oh, right,” you say, incredulous, “Jackson just leapt off the shelf, did he? Jungkook, you knew he was my favourite! How could you—how could you let this happen?”

“I swear, it wasn’t me… it… it was them!” he protests, pointing towards his remaining two and free tentacles that hover ominously behind him, as though they too have witnessed the grand disaster. The tentacles, however, seem none too pleased with his accusation; they rear up, jaws flexing as though insulted, ready to challenge his words, daring him to continue with the absurdity.

“You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, turning away, exasperation and resignation rolling off you in waves, the whole spectacle having become too much to bear, leaving the wreckage of both Jackson and your patience in your wake as you walk away, tired of this particular chaos.

"Princess, please, I’m sorry!" Jungkook follows you in a desperate attempt to soothe your anger, fully aware that he’s really messed up this time.

But you don’t answer. He’s destroyed your things more times than you can count—accidentally, yes, but still enough for you to give him the silent treatment before you say something you might regret. So when you enter your bedroom, lying down on your side and huffing with a blank stare, you refuse to acknowledge Jungkook, who’s now kneeling before you, clasping your tiny hands in his, puppy eyes in overdrive.

"I’m really sorry, Princess. Please forgive me, I’ll buy you another Jackson." Jungkook’s pleading eyes would usually make you give in, but this time he’s destroyed more than just a replaceable figurine. No, he murdered Jackson, your precious maneki-neko, taking your good fortune with him. So, no, you’re not giving in. You pull your hands away from his and huffily turn around to avoid his face.

Jungkook scrambles to his feet at that, running around the bed, stumbling over his own big feet, and jumping onto his side. "I mean it, I’ll buy you ten! A hundred! A million! Please, Princess, don’t be mad at me." But again, you just turn back around.

You hear Jungkook sigh in resignation as he plops down on his pillow, mumbling apology after apology that you’re not willing to acknowledge. It doesn’t take long before you feel one of his tentacles tentatively brush along your shoulder, but you shake it off, too fed up to accept any affection.

It tries again, but this time, you stop yourself from pushing it away, realising the tentacle—or rather, they—aren’t the ones at fault. A second tentacle soon joins, poking your side as if to tease you into letting go of your anger. But you still are, not at them, but at Jungkook. You start to pet them, though, and the simple action begins to soothe your frustration.

"Oh, so you’re giving them attention but not me?!" Jungkook whines.

"My precious babies," you coo lovingly, "got accused of doing something they didn’t."

"But they did! It’s all their fault!" He shouldn’t have said that, because his tentacles don’t see it like that though, and the next thing you hear is Jungkook yelping, "Ouch! Don’t attack me! Ouch! You’re supposed to protect me! Hey!"

You do your best to suppress the laugh bubbling up, knowing full well Jungkook deserves it for lying so boldly. When his tentacles slither back towards you, settling over and in front of you, you resume petting them, while Jungkook sulks silently behind you.

Your anger gradually fades, the soothing motions of Jungkook’s tentacles helping you calm down. "Do you know why Jackson was my favourote? He was the first figurine you ever gave me. On our 100th day anniversary." 

He remains silent, so you go on. "He wasn’t just a figurine. He was a symbol of our relationship and our good fortune."

"I’m sorry," Jungkook whispers, clearly sad now.

"You can’t replace him."

"I know."

"And you can’t make him whole again."

"I know." His voice is faint now, as if he truly understands just how deeply he’s messed up.

His tentacles begin to run along your arms, sensing your sadness too. You feel movement behind you, and as Jungkook’s breath fans across your neck and his big hand lightly strokes your arm alongside his tentacles, your resolve to stay mad a little longer disappears entirely. You turn around, facing his beautiful face and mesmerising eyes.

"I never understood why he was your favourite, but now I do. I’m really sorry, Princess."

"S’fine," you mumble, gently stroking his cheekbone.

"Do you want to know what my symbol of our relationship is?"

"Hm?"

Jungkook’s connected tentacles lift behind his back. "This. And this is something that’ll never break, no matter what."

Your eyes well up with tears because, frankly, he’s right. It shouldn’t be a fragile figurine that carries the very symbol of your love, but Jungkook himself. You regret ever giving Jackson that meaning, because there’s something so much stronger than porcelain—a living, conscious bond that shows just how meaningful and overwhelming your connection with Jungkook is.

"I’m sorry."

"You don’t have to be. Please don’t say that. I love you, Princess."

"I love you too, Jungkook."

And it's true, you’re the happiest woman in the world, now and always.

[her-satanic-wiles]

Kinktober Day 6 - Frottage

Cardinal Terzo x Reader

Sweet, horny Cardinal… so desperate to get off, even if it means rubbing against a hunk of plastic to do it.

Masterlist ⛧ Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Words: 2.8k.

Reading Time: 11 min.

Warnings: begging, brat, degradation, frottage, implied overstimulation, sex toys, spanking,

Taglist: @akayuki56 @alien-the-ghost @amazing-bobinsky @angellayercake @anonymous-appreciation @babydestinyinfluencer @bitchywitchygardener @blossomsea @call-me-little-sunshine84 @copiaspet622 @copiasslut @cosmixxdust @da-rulah @dolceterzo @dopey-fandom-girl @faithisyours @ghoulishxdelights @high-above-the-city @howlingco @inkstainedrat @kaijukimchi @kenken-the-shoggoth @ledger-kaos @magopi @megachaoticstupid @meliza1001 @miss-leto @mommy-dust @neganwifey25-blog @piaart @saintbowie @shycardinale @sister-of-sin-claudia @sisterof-sin @sodoswitchimage @the-did-i-ask @xiyingly @zombiesnips-blog

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Terzo was rarely on his best behaviour, and you wouldn’t have had him any other way. His reputation at the Ministry was well-established—flirting, playing his little games, drinking like there was no tomorrow, and generally having the time of his life. It didn’t faze you. You were far too secure in your own power, too certain of your hold over him. It didn’t matter who he flirted with or what sweet nothings he whispered in their ear; it was all part of his performance. After all, it was always your bed he returned to, always your name spilling from his lips in breathless moans when he was inside you.

In fact, you rather enjoyed watching him toy with others. The way they blushed and fidgeted under his attention, thinking for a fleeting moment they might stand a chance. But they never did. Their hopes were dashed the moment he stepped through your door at the end of the night. And the thought amused you to no end. If only they knew. If only they could see the great Cardinal Terzo—the Satanic Casanova himself—reduced to a whimpering, desperate mess beneath your hands, pleading like a child because you weren’t giving him the touch he so craved. Oh, how delicious it was, holding all that power, savouring the way he squirmed under your control, knowing that no matter what he did or said to others, you were the one who truly owned him.

He was hard and wanting, gasping for air and sighing in frustration, skin flushed and reddened from your stinging and punishing slaps. He was so needy, so pliant, so frantic with desire, that his mind was completely blank save for his all-consuming need to be pounded into the mattress by you. His eyes never left the strap-on, mouth drooling and hole clenching. Desperate, desperate, desperate. Those little hips bucking upwards, wanton and chasing the silicone strapped to your crotch in his dire need to be filled.

You tutted at your lover, condescension dripping deliciously from your voice. “My little demon isn’t behaving himself very well,” you commented, watching his cock jump at the patronising tone you’d taken.

Terzo’s voice came out ragged, barely above a whisper, thick with need as he pleaded, “I’m sorry, please, I’ll be good. I’ll do anything, just—please, do something.” His hips bucked again, a futile attempt to chase the sensation, his eyes glazed with lust and desperation as he begged, “I need it, I need you. Please, let me have it… I’ll be your good little demon, I swear.”

It was evil - your little power trip, but it was too delicious. Making this thirty-five-year-old man suffer was so much fun, how could you stop now? “I like hearing you beg,” you taunted. “But… I’m not convinced yet.” You leaned in closer, letting your breath ghost over his trembling body. “Beg harder, show me just how desperate you are. Maybe then I’ll consider giving my pathetic little demon what he wants… if you can prove you deserve it.”

As you leaned over him, your toy ran over the underside of his cock, making him his in response. It was the first whiff of pleasure he’d had for ten minutes, and he was going to take it. His body began to move softly beneath you, handlessly maneuvering his cock up and down the silicone shaft in an attempt to sneakily draw pleasure from you. It wasn’t a perfect sensation: there wasn’t as much pressure as he needed so it felt barely like a tickle. All it did was drive him crazier, but he didn’t know what else to do. He was so driven by his base desires, this seemed perfect in comparison to the alternative.

He whimpered.

And you caught his hips. Of course, he wasn’t as sneaky as he thought he was, and it was fun to let him think otherwise. But his desperation had sent a shockwave of ideas into your brain, and an evil plan had concocted in that moment. “Oh, Terzo,” you said, feigning disappointment. “I expected you to wait for your pleasure. I told you to beg… and instead, you think you can take what’s mine without permission?” Your voice dripped with condescension, every word laced with taunting authority.

Terzo whimpered, already anticipating the punishment he knew was coming. He was so close to breaking, his entire body on the verge of collapse beneath you.

You leaned forward, pressing your body against his, letting the cool silicone of the strap-on slide tantalisingly along his shaft without giving him the satisfaction of being filled. His breath hitched, body trembling as he instinctively bucked his hips, trying to get some friction. You smirked, knowing this was driving him wild.

“No,” you whispered cruelly, running the toy along his length again, slower this time, making sure it barely grazed his most sensitive spots. “You don’t get to have it that easy.” You shifted, positioning yourself so your body was pressed snugly against him, the pressure just enough to tease. “You’re going to work for your pleasure… and this,” you teased, grinding against him with calculated, torturous strokes, “this is all you’re getting until I’m satisfied.”

The friction of your bodies moving together—skin against skin, your toy gliding up and down his throbbing need—wasn’t enough to drive either of you to the edge, but it was enough to send waves of frustrating pleasure coursing through him. The tension built with each slow grind, and you could feel his muscles tense as he tried to chase more sensation.

You moved your hand between your bodies to keep your cocks lined up and touching continuously, wrapping your fingers around his shaft to keep it still as you continued stroking the underside of him, silicone tip touching its flesh counterpart and making him sing for you. Tiny whimpers falling from his lips as he ran his nails down your back, leaving red whelts in their wake. He looked so beautiful like this: falling apart at the slightest of touches. A sight that would, no doubt, haunt you in your sleep.

You buried your head in his neck as you continued to rub yourself against him, licking and kissing and sucking on the sensitive skin there. Muffled, you said, “I thought I told you to beg, Terzo.”

Terzo was be completely overwhelmed by his desire, barely able to form coherent thoughts but desperate to obey. His voice came out breathy, broken between the tiny whimpers escaping his lips:

“I’m begging—please, I’m… b-begging, I need y-you. I’ll do anything, just please… don’t st-stop.” His fingers dug into your back even harder, nails scraping down your skin as he arched into your touch. His hips would buck slightly against the grip you had on him, futile in their attempts to seek more. “I can’t—please, I’m y-yours, I’ll be good, just—oh, please, I can’t take it anymore…”

His body trembled beneath you, desperate to prove his submission, his every breath laden with need as he begged for mercy.

You lined your mouth up with his ear and dropped your voice down low, “What do you want me to do, Terzo?”

Terzo’s breath hitched, his heart racing at your question, every ounce of desperation flooding his voice as he stammered, “I-I want you to touch me, to fill me up… p-please, just like before. I need you to m-make me feel good.” He turned his head slightly, struggling to maintain eye contact as his gaze flickered with overwhelming need. “I want to feel you inside m-me… to lose myself in y-you. Please… I can’t stand it any longer. Non posso farcela! I’ll be good, I swear,” he added, voice shaking, every word a frantic plea that dripped with urgency. He whimpered, his body writhing beneath you, completely lost in the torrent of desire.

His breath was quickening and his eyes watered a little, the desperation manifesting in other ways. You bit his ear then did the unthinkable: you pulled away.

The loss of your weight on his body was disturbing at best. He’d begged! He’d done everything you asked him to do. He was a good boy, why would you do this to him? He watched in near horror at you flipping onto your back and get comfortable. You poured a little lube from the bottle on the bedside table onto the dildo and rubbed it over the silicone. “Come on, my little demon,” your sweet voice enticingly extended the invitation. “I’m getting tired - come take over for me, won’t you?”

Terzo didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled to his knees above you, taking purchase on your juicy thighs he was so obsessed with, before lining himself up with the silicone once more and rubbing himself over it. His own grip was tight - far tighter than yours ever was. His movements were also quick.

The feeling was divine.

As Terzo lined himself up with the silicone, the sensation overwhelmed him. The moment he made contact, a rush of pleasure shot through his body, igniting every nerve ending. The smooth surface glided against him, the slickness of the lube enhancing the friction just right. He felt the gentle resistance as he pressed down, the pressure building deliciously, sending waves of euphoria cascading through him.

His own grip tightened, instinctively seeking more—more pressure, more sensation—as he rubbed himself along the shaft, feeling each ridge so intimately, they were scored into his memory. Each movement was frantic, his body instinctively chasing that euphoric high, lost in the rhythmic pleasure of the back-and-forth.

The delicious fullness of the silicone made him gasp, a blend of intensity and ecstasy that seemed to consume him. He felt so desperate, so achingly aware of the exquisite stimulation, as his hips bucked of their own accord, driving him deeper into the sensation. It was a divine melding of pleasure and urgency, as if every thrust was pulling him closer to an edge he could barely comprehend.

As he moved, he couldn’t help but revel in the feeling of being completely consumed by desire, each stroke drawing him closer to bliss. The world outside faded away, leaving only the intoxicating sensation of the silicone and the thrill of your inviting words echoing in his mind, urging him on.

As Terzo continued to ride the silicone, his pleasure surged to a dizzying peak, and he found himself standing on the edge of sanity. His breaths came in quick gasps, and he started to murmur frantically in Italian and English, his voice a mix of desperation and ecstasy:

“Sathanas, it feels so good! I can’t… I can’t take it anymore! Per favore, please, don’t stop! I need more—ho bisogno di te!” He whimpered, his hips moving faster, urgency pouring out in every thrust. “I’m losing it… sto impazzendo! I want it all, tutto! Just like you said, I’ll be good, I promise!”

His words were laced with urgency and longing, each syllable a plea for release, as he teetered on the brink of overwhelming pleasure.

Your rested your hands on his hips, feeling the soft hairs of his thighs beneath your pinkie. His soft body was covered in sweat, the fat on him jiggling as he moved. The sheen of sweat glistened on his skin, highlighting every curve and contour that made him so undeniably beautiful.

Your gaze roamed over him, admiring the way the soft flesh of his belly quivered with each movement, the gentle jiggle serving as a testament to his body’s pleasure. It was a sight that filled you with a deep, yearning desire; the way his flesh yielded so beautifully to your touch made you ache for him even more.

The way his thighs pressed against yours, soft and inviting, drew you in, and you couldn’t help but appreciate every inch of him—the roundness of his form, the way it seemed to invite your hands, your lips. You loved the way his body moved, so full of life, and how it reflected his surrender to the moment.

As he continued to ride the silicone, you felt a swell of longing as you traced your fingers over the smooth skin of his hips, down to the plush softness of his thighs. Each motion he made, each gasp that fell from his lips, only deepened your admiration. You were utterly captivated by him, the sheer beauty of his body igniting a primal desire within you to worship every curve, to lose yourself in the warmth and softness that was entirely Terzo.

“Sei così bello,” you breathed, the words tumbling from your lips without thought. “You’re so beautiful.” Each syllable was infused with longing, a desperate need to convey just how much he meant to you, how much you cherished every soft, lovely inch of him. “Does it feel good, my love?”

“Y-yes! Sì! It feels incredible!” Terzo gasped, his words tumbling out in a breathless rush, overwhelmed by the sensation coursing through him. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he savoured the pleasure, every thrust pushing him closer to bliss. “I need more… please, just like this!” His voice quivered, a mix of desperation and delight, echoing the yearning that filled the room.

He opened his eyes, locking onto yours, the heat of his gaze filled with longing and adoration. “I can’t get enough… ti amo,” he confessed, the weight of his desire palpable as he surrendered completely to the overwhelming sensations, eager to please you as much as himself.

You hummed, low and comforting. You rubbed at his hips and thighs, offering some comfort to his overwhelmed mind as he continued to desperately rut against the toy. “Ti amo anche io, mio piccolo demone. Will you let go? Will you come for me?”

The question hung in the air, igniting a flicker of urgency within him. Terzo’s breath quickened, his body trembling with anticipation. “I-I can’t… I’m so close,” he stammered, his voice shaky and thick with desperation. “I want to—voglio farlo! I need to come for you, please… just a little more!”

His eyes were wide, shimmering with a mixture of need and longing as he sought your approval, your permission. The weight of your words wrapped around him like a silken thread, pulling him closer to the edge he so desperately craved. Every thrust grew more frantic, the sensation of the toy against him blending into a symphony of pleasure that threatened to consume him whole.

With every thrust, the tension within Terzo mounted, spiraling higher and higher until it felt as if he were teetering on the brink of an abyss. His breaths came in ragged gasps, heart pounding in his chest as your words wrapped around him, urging him to let go. “Come for me,” you coaxed, the promise in your voice driving him wild.

“I’m so close!” he cried out, voice trembling with need, his body aching with desire. The pleasure built within him, a potent wave crashing against the shores of his sanity, threatening to pull him under. He could feel the heat pooling low in his belly, a primal force urging him to surrender, to give in completely.

“Please, I need it! I need to come!” he begged, desperation spilling from his lips as he began to lose control, the world around him fading into a blur. Every nerve ending felt alive, igniting under your touch, the sensation of the toy against him sending shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through his body.

With a final, desperate thrust, the dam broke. “C-coming!” he gasped, the word tumbling from his lips as pleasure exploded within him. It felt like pure, unadulterated bliss, a tidal wave crashing over him, engulfing him entirely. His body shuddered violently as he came, every muscle tightening in a glorious, overwhelming release. The physical proof of it, his white cum, seeped from his hole and dripped onto your own soft stomach, gathering hotly on your skin and decorating you like a canvas.

The force of his climax pulled a loud moan from deep within him, raw and unrestrained, echoing off the walls as he surrendered to the ecstasy. It washed over him in waves, leaving him breathless and trembling, a mix of relief and euphoria coursing through his veins. He was lost in the moment, utterly consumed by the pleasure you had created together, body collapsing against you as he basked in the aftershocks, the warmth of your presence grounding him amidst the bliss.

He leaned forward and captured your lips in a frenzied kiss, hissing and shuddering as you wrapped your fingers around him and began to stroke him lazily.

“Th-thank you,” he whimpered as he began to come down from his high.

“Don’t thank me yet, my little demon.” Your grip on his cock got tighter and you put more effort into stroking him. “You’re going to be coming again tonight.”

Translations:

Non posso farcela! = I can’t do it! (Overwhelmed)

ho bisogno di te! = I need you!

sto impazzendo! = I’m going crazy! or I’m losing my mind!

tutto! = Everything!

Ti amo anche io, mio piccolo demone. = I love you too, my little demon.

voglio farlo! - I want to do it!

Prev./Next

[rizsu]

"i know what you are."

silence. complete silence. the kind of silence when the teacher suddenly announces an exam unknown to the students.

around the dinner table holds you and nanami. your dishes are pushed aside, in front of you empty with only your clasped hands on the table. eyes glued to the man before you. nanami's familiar with such poses and this one he knows all too well. it means business... or maybe you found out his little secret.

"you know what i am?" he questions, eyes moving up and down your frame.

"exactly," you say, pointing a finger at him, "you dirty individual."

now you've captured his attention. he drops his spoon down, mimicking your position.

"then tell me."

"oh, trust me i will," you lace your tone with suspicion, standing up to make u-turn to him. leaning to his ear, you whispered something. something that rewarded itself with a sharp inhale from nanami.

his pupils dash to the side, watching you with cold sweat. i'm fucked. he cannot and will not afford to confirm your accusation — although it is indeed true. nanami holds his head high, clearing his throat as he folds his arms across his chest.

"that's peculiar. tell me more lies."

this time you're the one who inhales a sharp breathe, gasping at nanami's response.

"LIES? i've got proof on my hands to last decades," you say, whipsering the last word for dramatic effect.

nanami chuckles, hinting that he's mocking you. he's been a business man for over 7 years, you're not going to get the confirmation out of him this easily. leaning back into the chair, he gestures at your empty one, quick to suggest that you return.

you don't fight him, slowly stepping back to your seat with an eyebrow raised at him. it's silent for another ten minutes, nothing but the sounds of utensils coming into contact with the dishes. silent until you speak again.

"just admit it," you say, low-key stabbing your food with the fork. "i caught you red-handed."

"did you catch me or did you make it up?" he questions again, finding amusement in teasing you.

"god, you're so peskful."

"darling, that's not a word."

"shut it."

he listens, eyes focused on you who's in deep thought, drumming on the table continuously with your fingers.

you're right, but nanami doesn't want to say so yet. he'll carry on this little game until he found the proper date to reveal his big secret: an engagement ring that's well over twenty-thousand. it's expensive and not the average amount spent on such rings. he knows this but rings of pure gold will never come at an easy price.

[ace-of-spaders]

*taps the mic and laughs nervously because of the major stage fright*

Lizzington shippers, fam, grandmas and grandpas, can I have a moment of your attention, please?

It's not a secret that, while some people in Lizzington community are still active, whether they write or make gifs or keep our dash full of Lizzington even in this trying times ( @melbob26-blog, thank you for this! ), Lizzington community as a whole went into hibernation over the last couple of years.

And I get it, interests change, especially when one show ends and there's another ongoing, moving on from the show that ended is totally natural, especially when it didn't give your favorite characters the happy ending they deserved.

I get it.

Hell, for a pretty lengthy while there I focused on other ships and shows, too, especially after TBL ended ended last year.

But you know what I realized earlier today, when I reread some of the old fics, browsed through gifsets and text posts, watched some fanvids?

It's the show that ended, for some in 2021, for others in 2023. And the only thing that means is that it cannot disappoint us anymore.

( it's not like we were suddenly deprived of quality content, because let's face it, the fans have been the main source of the quality lizzington content for years now, while the show gave us mere crumbs, on a good day )

But Red and Liz?

They are still out there, fighting criminals, catching Blacklisters, travelling the world, shamelessly flirting, toppling shadow organizations, raising Agnes and/or any other children they have, and generally being the sexy badass power couple they are!

Nothing changed in that regard.

So why would we mourn them, when they are out there, healthy and happy and in the middle of yet another adventure? I'm sure right this moment Red is drawing Liz into another one of his heists and she's only too happy to join him, even though she pretends that she's not, for the sake of the game.

There's literally no reason for us to stop writing, giffing, editing, sharing theories and headcanons and memes and just talking about our favorite couple.

And by writing all of this, I want to propose something daring to you:

Let's revive the Lizzington community!

Let's rewatch earlier seasons and gif the hell out of them because it's been a while and because precious moments between these two are not going to become less precious even if it's giffed 10 or 100 more times, not to mention that ever gifmaker's style is different, so there are virtually no two identical gifsets as there are no two identical snow flakes.

Let's make fanvideos, picspams, picture edits, fanart, moodboards! The amount of songs, quotes, moments etc that can inspire you is virtually endless!

Let's write fics, let's explore AUs, let's give each other prompts and challenge each other to try something new or practice some aspect of writing, like writing kisses or AUs or hugs or making up Blacklisters etc!

Let's share headcanons and theories and ideas and what our versions of Red and Liz are like, because everyone has their own unique versions of Red and Liz living in their head, and it's just beautiful, if you ask me!

Let's reblog stuff, filling each other's dashes with Lizzington!

Let's scream about Lizzington because no one does it like them!

Let's revive the Lizzington Community, we all miss it!

PS. Feel free to reblog this post – spread the suggestion!)

PPS. To assure you that I'm not the type of person who encourages others but doesn't do anything themselves, I can tell you I've already got some ideas for a couple of Lizzington events in mind. Those include challenges, thematic weeks etc.

PPPS. I'm not sure how many people are checking the tags these days, so I'm gonna tag some people I know under the cut, just in case, to spread the suggestion. If you weren't tagged, trust me, it's nothing personal!

@meetmeatthecoda @iwouldlovetoeatyourtoast @agxntkeen @factoseintolerant @tale-xistime @james-baeder @lettie1609 @withwhatiam @peace-love-on-planet-earth @missourired @felilaprivada @strawberry-pills @roominthecastle @codewordpumpkin @my-robot-heart @kitkate91060 @imyourplusone @shelly1952 @itsjustme-itsmylife @castle2cute @nancyjocom @cress-26 @lunaarlilacs @femaleoptimistic @scifi-gk @greeneyedsoul88 @figureofdismay @shippinglizzington @kissthefuture @thetwistedargent @actuallylorelaigilmore @sorrydearie @turningtimeinthetardis @buildinggsr @apicturewithasmile @windfalling @piketrickfeet

[jewish-vents]

first - i just want to say thank you for making this blog. it’s so important to know that we aren’t alone in the many things we’re experiencing and feeling right now, especially when so many of us have become painfully isolated as of late.

i apologize for how long this one is going to be.

i’ve been feeling so, so alone recently. my tumblr dash has been cut down to just a handful of jewish blogs that i can trust to be kind and understanding and nuanced, but it means that the majority of the content i see is about antisemitism and the war. after a while, it becomes draining to scroll through what feels like endless sadness. i turned to looking at fandom tags instead of following fandom blogs, but it makes me feel equally as insane to click on a blog about race cars and immediately see a post with 60k notes calling what’s happening in gaza “the new holocaust”. i started going back on twitter, but fan accounts on there too are only safe for a day or so before the account owner shares some awful antisemitic tweet from an account known to be an anti-jewish extremist. i went back on instagram briefly, but i was soon afraid to look at people’s stories for fear i’d see something terrible and lose yet another trusted person from my life.

in person, i have to walk by signs saying “zionism = genocide” and hastily scribbled palestinian flags with the colors in the wrong spot on my way to class every day. a wall across from my apartment says “BDS” in giant letters. i haven’t opened my curtains in months because of it. a “protest” of about 25 people stood in the center of campus and yelled and waved their fists in passing students’ faces, so jewish students didn’t go to class on any of the days they gathered. i only have one non jewish friend left at school - the rest abandoned me because i either called them out on antisemitic rhetoric or refused to go along with the idea that anyone, palestinian or israeli, muslim or jewish, is less than human. i had taken several of them along to our hillel’s seder in the past. i don’t know who i can safely go with this year. i have a few jewish friends, of course, but i love bringing goyische friends with little connection to judaism along to experience how joyful and loving jewish holidays can be.

it feels like there is no escape from this fucking war. it sickens me that it’s the only thing people pretend to care about - where is the attention for sudan, ukraine, armenia, uyghurs in china, syria, guyana? how is putting an emoji in your twitter bio or putting a translucent overlay of the palestinian flag on your tumblr icon any sort of real activism? how have we gone from “antisemitism is wrong” to “(((zionists))) control the world media”? it seems like the war is a fandom to these people. it seems like nobody cares enough to fully read and think critically about what they share, let alone do real research beyond looking at an infographic somebody shared on their instagram story. they’ll add on “don’t forget your click today!” to an unrelated twitter thread that went viral, flip the bird at the local starbucks, and put “won’t you free my palestine” on their instagram stories. they’ll anonymously tell a jew online to commit suicide. they’ll feel secure in the knowledge that they’re the perfect leftist, that this is somehow “good trouble”. all this praxis, and nothing to show for it but massive surges in hate crimes against jews. good job, guys! you singlehandedly saved every innocent person in gaza!

it’s isolating. it’s scary. jews can’t mourn. jews can’t be angry. jews can’t disagree. jews can’t suffer. jews can’t be whole, complex people with diverse beliefs and experiences. suffering is a game, and the goal is to hurt the most, scream the most, die the most, all to appease western leftists whose closest connection to war and violence was reading the hunger games in middle school.

i’m tired of it all. i want a peaceful and just resolution to the war. i want the mindless hatred everywhere to stop. i want to be able to scroll through social media and see nothing but fandom. i want to walk through campus with my magen david showing and all the friends i lost by my side on the way to the hillel seder. i want to open my curtains again. i know the experience of one diaspora jew is nothing compared to what people living in israel and palestine are currently going through, yet i still need this all to end. i don’t think any of us can go on like this, but we must, because we have. for thousands of years, we’ve gone on. that still doesn’t mean it has to be this hard all the time.

all i can think is “now we are slaves. next year may we be free.” now we are slaves to hatred and violence and suffering. next year may we all be free. next year may we all be in jerusalem.

.

[iamthecomet]

𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘺 𝘋𝘢𝘺 𝘚𝘪𝘹𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯: 𝘊𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘈 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘙𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘦

Rating: Pairing: Mountain & Cumulus & Dew Word Count: 743 Mountain and Cumulus make Dew's favorite cake for his summoning day. Mushy May brought to you by @forlorn-crows Divider by @ghuleh-recs

Mountain doesn’t consider himself much of a baker. He isn’t Cumulus who can whip up scones, and cookies, and marvelous cakes in an afternoon. He isn’t Dew who has an overall knowledge of all things kitchen that seems to be endless. But, he knows how to follow a recipe. And he knows how to make one thing perfectly.

Dew’s summoning day cake. 

If it was up to Dew–no one would make him anything. They’d have dinner together–that Dew cooked, and play games on the ancient N64 system, or watch a campy horror movie. There would be no cake, no gifts, no fuss. 

It’s not because Dew doesn’t like cake and gifts and fuss–it’s because he doesn’t think he deserves them–sees them as superfluous. 

Mountain won’t stand for it. 

Cumulus is with him, of course. Mountain feels better with her around when he’s baking. Like even if she just stood somewhere in the room and didn’t help it would come out better. She’s standing next to him, creaming butter and sugar while Mountain steeps strong earl gray tea to infuse into the batter. 

Cumulus measures out honey and adds it to her mixture of wet ingredients. Eggs are next. The kitchen already smells divine and they haven’t even put it in the oven yet. 

“He’s going to complain,” Mountain says, apprehensive. 

“He always complains. He doesn’t like when people do things for him.”

“I just wonder if maybe we should listen to him for once.” Mountain strains the tea into Cumulus’ mixture and she sighs. Humming softly as the herbal smell hits her. She adds a dash of lavender–her secret ingredient. 

“What and do nothing?” 

Mountain shakes his head. “Less, maybe. I mean I don’t like when people go all out for me–it feels–I don’t like to be seen like that.” 

“But that’s you, Mount,” Cumulus says softly, watching Mountain sift dry ingredients together. “Dew’s different. And we’re already making the cake.” 

“I don’t mean the cake. Of course we have to make the cake. I mean the gifts, the fawning over him. Maybe we could just watch a bad movie and–”

“Are you really going to be able to watch him make us all dinner on his summoning day and not help at all?” 

Mountain shakes his head. “No.” 

“What did you get him?” 

“Besides the cake?”

Cumulus laughs, she nudges Mountain with her hip. “What? Are you keeping it from me too?” 

Mountain blushes a little. “He found this rock when we were on tour, it’s not even anything special but it’s pretty. I…I might have stolen it from him and made it into a necklace.” 

Cumulus laughs, bright and airy. She takes the bowl of dry ingredients from Mountain and starts to add them little by little to the wet. “And you say you don’t want to fawn over him.”

Mountain flushes, he can���t help it. “He deserves it.” 

Cumulus nods in agreement as she mixes the batter. Mountain watches it come together–he dips his finger in, unable to resist the herbal sweetness of it. The lingering flavor of honey and bergamot burst on his tongue. He goes for another taste and Cumulus bats his hand away.  “Save some for, Droplet.” 

“Droplet will get plenty,” Mountain says, leaning over and kissing her on the temple, sneaking his finger into the batter as he does. 

“Enough!” She hip checks him, and curls her arm protectively over the bowl. “Go make the caramel or the frosting or something. You know Swiss can only keep him busy for so long.” 

Mountain smiles warmly at her, turning to dump the softened butter into the stand mixer. “Yes, ma’am.” 

When Dew and Swiss appear–an hour and a half later, the cake is done. Sitting tall and proud on the table in the middle of the kitchenette. Perfectly iced, caramel glaze dripping decadently down the sides. 

Dew’s smile lights up his face, his eyes dart over to Mountain and Cumulus a pink blush rising to his cheeks. “You didn’t have to.” 

“You alway say that–and yet, we always do.” Cumulus crosse the room to pull Dew into a hug, to kiss him gently on the forehead. 

“Thank you,” he whispers.

Mountain answers Dew’s smile with one of his own. This–he remembers–is why they do this. Just for these small moments when Dew allows himself to be loved and doted on without complaint or embarrassment. For the moment when he sees his favorite cake, waiting, just for him.

[blurglesmurfklaine]

4, 7, 9, 12 for the ask game <3 (all glee if possible)

Yay, thanks for these Crys! 7 was previously answered so I went ahead and skipped it :)

4. say something nice about a ship you don't ship (it can be another ship in your fandom, a mutual's OTP, etc)

I don’t ship St. Berry, but I am of the opinion that if it couldn’t be Finn, I’m glad it was Jesse. He and Rachel really are two sides of the same coin and they seem to love each other very deeply and I hope they’re happy together!

9. a ship that isn't your OTP but that you enjoy

Samcedes 😭 they are my emotional support heterosexuals your honor. But also, they are two genuinely good people who care deeply about one another samcedes you will always be endgame to me

12. compliment someone else in your fandom

Okay this is gonna be a lot because I AM going to do all the active fandoms I’m in! So under the read more!

Glee:

First of all you, Crys! And @backslashdelta You are both so talented with your gif making that it kind of drives me insane.

@kurtsascot is probably one of the most talented writers I’ve ever had the pleasure of interacting with. I feel so lucky that we’ve gotten her so late in the game! I feel similarly about @rockitmans and @thelegendofjenna

@esilher @twinkkurt and @justgleekout make the most BEAUTIFUL fanart I’ve ever seen, and I also wanna thank @carsonphillips for klainegifs and keeping the fandom interesting with their events!

@somefeministtheatrepls is not only an amazing friend but the most thoughtful beta reader and honestly partner in my writing?? Writing is much less stressful because I don’t even worry about things being clunky or weird because I know her ass will help that chapter SHINE

@nancysgillians @kurthummeldeservesbetter also get shoutouts because they are wonderful people to have in your life

Newsies:

I could fill novels with how much I love and appreciate @somanywords! Their amazing storytelling and also volunteering to make art for the MiniBang I hosted earlier this year??? On top of listening to my insane ramblings?? They don’t make em like this anymore folks

@one-paper-bag is also SOOOOOO incredibly talented with their art, and their lovely comments on my Spider-Man AU keep me going (on GOD we are gonna get you another chapter ON GOD!!!!)

@livesincerely and @agentsnickers are some of the most prolific and INSANELY TALENTED writers I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading, and also genuinely lovely people! You know when you see someone on your dash and ur just like “wow. I hope they are having a FANTASTIC day and life. They deserve one.”

@piedoesnotequalpi and @regina-cordium are also so incredibly FUNNY and have the most correct takes on every single newsie and that’s on that ❤️

911:

I’m relatively new to this fandom, so I don’t know a ton of people yet, but there are def people I see on my dash that I have noticed!

@cranberrymoons @lesbianrobin @insertlovelyperson have written some of my absolute FAAAAAAVE fics! I feel like they really have a handle on who the characters are in a way that’s true to the show and kind of difficult to pull off!

@texasbama makes amazing gifs and honestly anytime I see her on my dash I laugh bc genuinely she’s so funny. Also on the list of hilarious contributors is @buckgettingstruck

And a couple of people who I think have genuinely great vibes are @buckera @leathercouchcushion and @yaz-the-spaz

And of course I can’t talk about 911 without a second mention to @regina-cordium who puts up with all my Texas!Buddie nonsense andbansndbsk

-

Okay yeah so that was a LOT sorry!! I didn’t mean for it to get so long BUT I do mean every single word! I’m really blessed to have met so many amazing people through fandom and my experience on this site has been nothing less than superb because of yall ❤️

[gilly-moon]

PERCY JACKSON TV SHOW REVIEW

(SPOILER ALERT! I Did Not Like It)

It has been 16 long years since I first picked up The Lightning Thief, and once again...I am faced with an adaption of one of my favorite books that is so painfully disappointing. And now that the tv show is completely out, it's time to purge the collection of thoughts I compiled on it:

Starting on one of the (few) positives, the cast was incredible. I know for a FACT that they are all wonderfully talented individuals, and I aim all of my gripes with their acting at the directors and writers.

So much telling. So little showing. Stop explaining the plot and the mythology to me. SHOW it to me. Explain later only when necessary.

And yet, some things weren't explained at all! I know, as someone who read the books, what blue food means to Sally and Percy. But the show never explains its significance. To the unknowing watcher, it's just a weird quirk, not a small rebellion between a woman and her kid against the life they're stuck in. It baffles me what the writers chose to over explain versus under explain. There's no clear reason for either behavior, and it permeates the writing in a bad way.

There's also a lot of the kids just being dragged from point A to point B by an outside force, rather than their own actions. They never really felt alone or even in danger on their quest, because gods kept showing up to help them along. I did not like that.

These kids aren't allowed to be kids. I stg you could make them teens or young adults and the dialogue/their actions would be the same. That's not good.

Why do they always have all of the information!!!?? They immediately know it's Medusa. Echidna introduces herself and they immediately know who she is and that it's a Chimera in her bag. They immediately know what the Lotus casino is. Why? It makes the stakes feel so low, rather than the mad dash scramble in the books that happens a lot when characters have to remember the myths and how to beat a monster mid-fight. And it makes all these scenarios so boring!!!

Also so many of the fight/chase scenes were boring or anticlimactic. The only good ones I can think of were in the first two episodes, and then one with Ares. Someone actually slipped in some good choreo in those few fights, but completely forgot to add it in to....the rest of the show....

There's very little about the show that feels magical. CG is used, obviously, but at times it feels like they should've gone further with it, or used it even more, and they just....didn't. The visuals end up feeling clunky and not very cohesive, with zero whimsy. Hate to make this comparison, but the Harry Potter movies were VERY good at showing the lines between the magical world and the muggle world, and the tension that occurs when the two interact. There is....none of that in the PJO series. Zip. Zero. And the mythological CG that is there is more often than not static or boring.

Break for a positive! I actually really liked that Percy was learning mythology from Mythomagic. The show wasn't really consistent on that point - saying it was his mom instead most of the time - but that was such a fun and clever way to work in the card game and make it plot-relevant. As someone with ADHD, I can confirm I would also learn mythology WAY better if it was for my favorite game.

Ok back to the negatives - Wtf is up with the portrayal of the gods? For one, they're boring to look at. Nothing about their designs makes them feel 'godly' and while that's ok with some gods (Hermes for one, tho I have issues with his weird beige sweat suit look) why is Ares just some regular ass biker dude? Where are the flaming eyes?? And radical skin-leather bike?? He couldn't even have a CUSTOM bike with red bloody paint and boar heads and chain link handles or something???

And the gods are way too fucking nice. Sorry. I don't have an issue with Hermes being nice but. Ares having a heart-to-heart with Grover? When his presence is supposed to stir everyone up into a rage? And Hephaestus sees Annabeth refuse to give up on her friend and just goes 'awww, ok, you and Percy can go, and take my rival's shield back to him too cause I'm just so nice.' Sorry, no. I'm fine with gods being helpful - Hephaestus helps (reluctantly) in the later books. But it was at a price! A favor for a favor! Not a 'get out of jail free' card just because he was moved by normal ass human compassion!!

Hades gets his own bullet point because who the fuck was that. As a child of Hades, I'm offended that this sweet fruity guy just wanders up and goes 'hey, how's it going, wanna snack?' like, that is NOT my dad. My dad had skeleton soldiers filling his halls and a garden of jewels and a voice so loud it rattled the whole Underworld. Whoever that was in the show was a pathetic imitation.

The point of the first series is to work up to Percy throwing it in the gods' faces how awful and neglectful they've been of demigods and specifically their own children. Demanding that they do better. But if they're already showing compassion and 'humanity' in the context of the first book/first season of the tv show....Percy starts running out of ammo against the gods. There's no coherent story progression where Percy spends years seeing the worst of the gods and the best of them at very distinct, important times of his life and his story. It no longer feels like a massive change they have to make in the system, something that deserves a godly favor for Percy to demand of them. Luke no longer feels like his fury at the gods is wholly justified. The whole series begins to crumble because the gods already have a good reason for being how they are, rather than being thoroughly selfish assholes who only dote on demigods when they do something really cool. And the exceptions are presented at intelligent moments that prove to Percy when he most needs it that the gods can be better, they just need a forceful push to get there.

That being said, where was Percy getting the info that the other gods were feeling scared and abused by Zeus? I love the balls on this kid, but like...when did he make these assumptions and why? That whole scene felt really unearned.

Also Olympus was BORING. And EMPTY. And DARK. It looked like we were just back in the Underworld. Which. The Underworld was fucking boring too. Some neat visuals, sure, but put that in some high fantasy show. Not this one.

One last positive before my final point - there were some pretty good jokes scattered around. Not nearly enough, but I did really enjoy the Dionysus introduction and a handful of lines from Percy. Also releasing the animals in Vegas - Grover being like 'oh, you were worried about the humans' got me good.

The final word that kept spinning through my head after finishing episode 8 was: Pathetic. Luke's betrayal was pathetic. No deadly scorpion. No commitment to that period of time in the books we were convinced he really was evil. And Gabe just stumbling on the package with Medusa's head in it? PATHETIC. Percy outright asked his mom if she was being abused in the book, and she took fate into her own hands to statue-ify that bastard. But no. The show was through-and-through just a pathetic, watered-down version of an incredibly fun, emotional, brutal, exciting series of books. I know there was a lot of heart behind this production, but I did not feel it at all. But what else should I have expected from modern Disney?

[alan-in-the-outernet]

vra single player drabble

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The journey was almost over, but Nala couldn't bring himself to relax. Something was wrong and despite Alan's reassurances, he just couldn't fully trust this. It was Nala's idea I'm the first place to talk to Noogai for help getting back. It seemed like a good idea at the time. After all, if Alan did somehow spark life into the game with that glitch interacting with the ability he had, then surely a digital god would be able to do something to assist him. And yet... He wasn't able to shake the feeling that Alan was being watched by someone other than him. The way the world structured itself seemed to want Alan to go there, despite the fact that it should've been the opposite. He told Alan of these concerns, but they were out of other options.

Nala watched him approach the tree, which opened to make a doorway for him. Suddenly, the uneasiness that Nala had been feeling turned into an alarm as the god began to speak.

"You have returned to me, now we can again be one."

Nala knew that Alan was supposed to be in no real danger in the game, but this was wrong. He didn't know what Noogai could possibly mean, and he didn't want to find out. The danger felt real.

"RUN!" was all Nala could say.

Alan listened and was clearly beginning to panic, trying to make a dash for the exit. Before he could get out however, the door closed. Alan screamed when he was grabbed and he struggled to break free, but nothing had any effect. The god then began to... Absorb him. He screamed in terror, but was helpless.

Nala tried to intervene, but he wasn't able to access the file. He wasn't able to do anything as Alan began to disappear. The screams faded into sobs before eventually those were snuffed out. Alan was gone. Nala was frozen in horror as he stared at the screen, his own tears breaking through. It was his game that did this, his creation that did this. He came up with the horrible idea to speak with Noogai.

He felt sick and he ended up being overcome with nausea, vomit hitting the floor.

How had things gone so terribly wrong?

A minutes later, he got a phone call. He didn't want to answer it, but he felt that he had to. What he didn't expect was to hear Alan's voice. It was rougher than normal as if he'd also been crying and the way his voice shook supported that theory, but he was alive and he was home.

...The words Alan was saying... felt like they were mixing together, as Nala's shaky hand held the phone. He was... home. He was... alive...

It didn't make any sense. Nala had watched him be absorbed by the god... those screams were still echoing in his mind... the sobs and cries... the sudden silence...

Your fault... your fault... yourfaultyourfaultyourfaultYOURFAULTYOURFAULTWHYDIDN'TYOUDOANYTHINGWHYDIDYOUSUGGESTTHATWHYDIDYOUJUSTSITTHEREWHYDIDN'TYOUDOMOREWHYDIDN'TYOUACTQUICKERWHYWHYWHYWHYWHYWHWYWHWYWHWYWWWWYWWYHW

"Nala...?!"

...He blinked... staring absently at the wall in front of him... the phone gone from his hand... when had he dropped it...? When had his nails began to dig into his head, spit dripping from his mouth and tears pooling in his burning else... bile having raised in his throat...

...He pushed it aside... reaching for the phone... trying to get his throat to work... but nothing was working... his legs felt so shaky... he...

"I-I'm... s-sorry..."

He barely choked it out... but once he did... he couldn't stop...

"I'm sorry... I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry..."

He didn't know how much he said it... he couldn't hear Alan's response...

...He didn't feel real...

[mytragedyperson]

Dabihawks X super psycho love headcanons

Okay, I was in a music mood and now this song came on and it gave me DabiHawks ideas so, let's go with it.

Song is super psycho love by Simon Curtis.

Hawks actually becomes a villain AU? I think so. Why not?

So, it starts how it did in canon, Hawks is originally trying to join the League to spy on them for the Hero Safety commission.

He meets Dabi and is attracted to him but is also like but he's a villain and nothing's gonna happen

He is wrong

First encounters are the usual mix of threats and sexual tension that i've seen in the few DabiHawks fics I've read. Very much I'm attracted to you but I don't like you as a person, you know.

Hawks manages to join the League

This is when things start to change

Dabi is still suspicious of Hawks but is also horny and attracted to Hawks so he starts flirting with him, but only when it's just the two of them. When they're around the League he teeters between dismissive and insulting. He's either ignoring him or arguing with him.

Hawks is naturally confused but decides two can play at that game and starts returning the same energy

Naturally this results in them sleeping together

What does that mean it's friends, or in this case enemies, with benefits time, with a dash of secret relationship because Dabi does not want the League to know he's fucking Hawks.

Hawks is fine with keeping things a secret too because he doesn't want it to get back to the Hero Safety commission, because this is so not the mission. He was told to infiltrate the League. At no point was he told to sleep with one of the members. In fact, it was strongly discouraged

Meanwhile around the others, they still act like they hate each other. It's only partially an act. They still don't really like or trust each other but the sex is amazing and they just keep accidentally turning each other on, or maybe not so accidentally, and then dragging each other around to fuck.

This is a League of Villains are like family thing as well so at the same time, Hawks is slowly bonding with the League and starts having doubts about his mission.

Also some of the League kinda know or have a feeling something is going on between Dabi and Hawks but choose not to comment because they feel it's safer to just not know.

Anyway this continues for a while and slowly, it goes from enemies with benefits to friends with benefits. They start talking and very slowly, very cautiously start opening up and showing their softer sides.

This is a slowburn because trust is a very big problem.

And then Hawks starts developing feelings for Dabi

Dabi may or may not return these feelings yet, but if he does feel the same, he doesn't tell him.

And they're still pretending to hate each otehr around the League so Hawks feels even more confused and it slowly starts driving him insane.

Every day he cares a little less about his mission and his hero career, starts cring about the League members because he sees them just being normal (or as normal as they can be) people, falls in love with Dabi, starts blowing off hero stuff to hang out with the League, using the mission as an excuse.

Hawks finds out who Dabi is and what happened to him and how Endeavour treated him.

And he loses faith because, if that's their number one, and he's a child abuser and it was covered up

So Hawks returns honesty with honesty and admits his mission and how he doesn't want to go through with it anymore.

They both tell the League everything as well and, while there may be some distrust and negative reactions initially, they end up making up.

Dabi and Hawks get together.

The League exposes Endeavour and the Hero Public Safety Commission.

Todoroki Shouto surprises everyone when he backs up Dabi's story and shares his own experiences with Endeavour

turns out he knew Dabi was his brother all along

Maybe Shouto is the UA traitor in this one or maybe he just loves his brother, and hasn't forgiven his dad.

either way after this changes to the society are rapidly made, any corrupt heroes are rooted out.

The League of Villains do still recieve consequences for their crimes but they also get the help they need in terms of mental health.

And they kill All For One for using and manipulating Shigaraki

Okay I'm about done. If you liked this, my asks are open. Send a song and any character or ship from BNHA or one of the other fandomes in my pinned post and I'll do the same for them. I say ships meaning general relationships, not necessarily romantic ships

[switch-writer]

The Fate of the Cards

A/N: AHHH. Okay, despite all the requests I gotta do, I THINK THIS IS A PERFECT PROJECT TO COME BACK ON. THIS IS MY PART IN A ART/WRITING TRADE WITH @giggly-toybox WHO IS A SWEETHEART. Genuinely give them a follow. BUT! They’re the biggest Basil Hawkins and X Drake fan around, and they deserve some fun shenanigans 😤 BUT THANK YOU FOR THE PATIENCE AND I APOLOGIZE IF ITS SHORT. And I hope you enjoy very much🫶🫶

Ah, yes, The Supernovas, otherwise known as the worst generation, were known to be… aggressive. Monstrous pirates of thieves and brutality… similar to the warlords in a weird way, except the worst generation weren’t Government dogs.

Not that most warlord’s did their jobs anyways… But that’s besides the point.

The point is that the supernovas were brutal pirates who wouldn’t team up for nothing. Not a chance. At least that’s what most would assume. Yet, here they were, Basil Hawkins, the blonde who happened to enjoy tarot card readings, and X Drake, the former marine who swapped sides and who’s since been a pirate.

These two were… reasonable enough to get together and make a strange sort of team despite differences. Although they argued a bit. Drake was more quiet, so was Hawkins… but Hawkins certainly didn’t hesitate to ask questions and came across as harsh. But didn’t most Captains? Especially since X Drake would give him the same attitude back.

“Relax, Hawkins.” X spoke with his usual calm, dead serious tone. While Hawkins typically had that same tone, Drake managed to get him worked up. Over what you may ask? “I refuse to believe that you won fair and square.” Basil accused harshly. This wasn’t what he predicted after all! It had to be cheating!

“Then keep not believing it. Doesn’t make it any less true.” The former Rear Admiral spoke with a careless tone, scoffing in slight disbelief. “Are you actually upset?” Hawkins shot a glare towards the man in response, making it clear he was upset.

“…Oh come on.” X spoke with a deadpan tone, but nodded slowly. “Lighten up, Hawkins, I don’t want to—“ He was cut short by the tarot reader tossing the poker cards of sorts at him.

Silence… a long… dreading… moment of silence.

“Basil Hawkins.”

“…If I had to assume, something tells me that was the wrong choice.” Hawkins spoke calmly, but his eyes showed uncertainty. Was this supposed to be what his previous reading was about?

Drake kept his cold stare as Hawkins slowly shifted his foot, ready to dash if the situation called for it.

“Do those cards tell you when to run? Because only a fool would sit here.” X Drake spoke.

“…Does that mean—“ “yes, it means run!” And suddenly, the zoan devil fruit user dashed forward, and if Hawkins didn’t go in slight shock, he would’ve squawked. However, he didn’t! Instead, he had let out a much more manly noise! Instead of a squawk, he gasped dramatically and then yelped like a dog as he stumbled backwards and began to run.

The long haired Blondie found himself rushing around a room, practically playing tag and using a structure for ‘protection’ so you can’t be tagged. Except this wasn’t tag, in fact, it was cat and mouse. And Basil had no clue what happened when the cat caught him, the mouse.

“You… idiot—! Woah—!” Hawkins spoke with a strong spike of frantic nature in his tone as Drake attempted to fool him by double backing around the couch. “Don’t be stupid—! Stop playing this game!” Basil spoke harshly, attempting to be intimidating and tough.

“You accused me of cheating, I don’t take it lightly. And that was before throwing cards at me.” “You had to cheat—!” The paramecia devil fruit user accused. Which the man who had reddish-brown hair inhaled, before giving a slight smile.

“Accuse me of it, and I’ll do it—!” He claimed, suddenly jumping over the couch, his cape/cloak flowing in the force and wind from his dash and jump, and he almost tackling Basil, wrapping his arms around him as they stumbled together, Hawkins almost fell down as Drake caught both him and the card reader, getting strength in his position and firm in his stance.

And they were stable.

And silent. Hawkins didn’t want to say a word. No. He couldn’t. Or else the reddish-brown haired man would strike—

Suddenly, out of the blue, the man began to feel giggles bubbling in his throat, a smile twitching on his face, his body even feeling that tingly feeling, causing him to squirm. “H-Hehey—!” Hawkins reflectively squirmed upon recognizing the feeling. A ticklish feeling caused by the ‘former’ marine’s fingers.

“Didn’t run well enough.” Drake claimed cleverly before his fingers spidered up ‘the magician’s’ sides and ribs, causing the man to panic and finally let out built up bubbly giggles.

“Y-You’re sohoho insuhufferable!” Hawkins scolds, attempting to remain tough despite it failing miserably. He was a bunch of giggles! And now that the giggle dam broke, it couldn’t stop.

But in response to his tough reply, X decided the best course of action was simple, his fingers teased and tapped across his ribs, occasionally making a stop to scribble between and on the sensitive nerves through there, causing a small squeak followed by soft giggling, and Basil squirming side to side, trying to get out of his grasp.

“Q-Quhuhuit it! Yohou’re a evil, awfuhuhul man—!” The insults kept flowing, and suddenly, Drake moved his hands, making them crawl up to his neck and spidering around his neck. Those feelings across Hawkins neck made him straighten up his hunched over posture and squeal, causing chuckles and a small soft laugh.

“Apologize.” Drake required in exchange for mercy.

However, the fellow pirate was quite stubborn! He refused, shaking his head and grabbing at the ‘X’ tattooed man’s hands in a strong attempt to win. “N-Nehever!” The man in the white wavy sleeved shirt stuck up his nose, showing strength…

Until the marine strikes right at his stomach, scribbling and wiggling his fingers across it, causing the almost electric sensations to spike. And within seconds, that brave face was a smiling one at the least, Hawkins laughing out as he slowly went to the floor, throwing his head back in laughter.

While he squealed, his actual laugh was deeper. Granted, it wasn’t as deep as his speaking voice, but it was still deeper than those girly and sweet squeals and squeaks that only a group of mice could hear.

Drake however was amused by it, his fingers moving quick and effectively, causing the man to squirm and curl up, practically rolling around.

“DRAKE—!” He called out, squeezing his eyes shut with a sweet smile, kicking his legs a little bit as he felt those fingers scribble and poke at his belly, causing more cackles and laughs. “PLEHEASE—!” The blondie softly spoke, his voice weak due to his breathless laughter.

“Hm.” Drake acknowledged, sitting on the man’s legs to prevent him from rushing off, but his fingers stopped. His hands pulled away as the man giggled breathlessly, his hair messily in his face.

“Y-You’re ehevil—!” “I could be worse.” The man reminds the giggling blonde pirate, who begrudgingly agreed. “…But I have no doubt you cheated.” Hawkins states, a wobbly smile upon his face.

…He was still on about this?

Admittedly… Drake wasn’t completely honest. His morals were honorable, but he may of… fibbed and happened to rig the cards in his favor. He was just surprised that the man who always had cards in his hand noticed so fast, or rather was consistent in his accusations.

But due to the man being so quick on his feet and keeping up his accusations, Drake felt himself get… flustered.

“No denial—!” Basil spoke out, causing Drake to immediately claw his hands at the soft tummy, causing the man with the power of straw to start laughing with a happy tone, he certainly wasn’t opposed to this currently. “I’ll shut you up! No cheating was involved.” The darkly dressed man who happened to wear a feathered hat spoke with authority… although a smile grew on his face as he kept tickling Hawkins.

“qUHUHUIT—! BUFFOON!” Hawkins yelped, squealing before scrunching his nose up, a bright smile on his face. “Apologize, then say I won fair and square.”

And the tickling ensued due to stubbornness, the blonde shaking his head before laughing, using his hands to cover his mouth, refusing to show his smile now, his laughter still vocal and quite lovely to listen to even if muffled.

But, during that monent, Drake striked by wiggling a finger right into his belly button, causing a snort to suddenly come from the usually cynical man’s throat. With that, more laughter flowed from Basil’s mouth, a finger teasing and tickling right at his belly button. It was driving him crazy!

But it stopped, causing the magician to slowly open his eyes, shocked it stopped. But the moment he opened his eyes, the zoan user lifted his shirt and brushed a feather across his belly, causing a squeaky sound of a laugh to leave his throat, and immediately. He caved.

“eHEHE—! IT’S FAHAIR!”

Yelled the tarot reader, causing the man holding a feather to raise a brow. “Hm?”

“…And I’m… begrudgingly sorry.” Hawkins spoke softly with a huff.

“Much better.” And for good measure, Drake gave him a congratulations stroke from the feather in his hand, causing the straw-man to tumble over with a small laugh, causing him to hold his belly to attempt to block tickles. “T-THAHAT’S ENough—!” He exclaimed with a laugh, his hands batting at him now.

And with a nod, the reddish-brown haired man moved off his legs, letting his breathing even out… and finally… he relaxed. They both relaxed in silence. Hawkins was sprawled out on the floor, and Drake sat calmly nearby…

“…I did cheat.”

“…” and a slow head turn with a glare occurred, and within a moment, the blonde was on top of Drake. “You’ll pay for feeding into a delusion!”

As dramatic and loud as his wording was, it was silly… and X Drake found enjoyment in challenging Hawkins… as for Hawkins… if anyone were to tickle him, he supposed it’d be best for it to be him…

Especially when he could get his revenge.

[gaywatch]

So I started watching the first episode of The Sign, right? I'd had it on my computer for a couple/few days and couldn't immediately remember what it was actually about, but I knew it was a new Thai BL genre mashup thing I'd seen on my dash and that's good enough for me.

A team of special agents infiltrate a big warehouse/facility place at night. Okay. Cool. There are bombs and a hostage? Sure. One guy tells other guys what to do, so he must be the leader, and he tells a few guys to focus on the bombs and the others to find the hostage. They encounter bad guys when they get inside, and some of the fight choreo is cool and some of it is absurd, but I'm just happy to be seeing an action-oriented BL series and I've seen worse crimes committed by a low budget, no big deal.

But it's been a few minutes into the first episode now, and I'm starting to wonder a few things. We have stakes, technically: there are bombs and a hostage--it would be bad if the bombs went off while the team was inside because they would get hurt or killed, and by default we don't want to see a hostage harmed.

But we have no context. At all. I'm five minutes in and I know nothing. Who's the hostage? Who are the bad guys? What do the bad guys want? Why do I care? I'm assuming this is like some quick action-y beginning and we'll cut to a main character at some point to see the "real" first scene of the show, but now it's been like seven minutes and we're still here in this warehouse place. If the special ops team are supposed to be the cast, I haven't heard a single scrap of dialogue that wasn't about the task at hand. I haven't even seen anyone's face yet.

Tagging @bengiyo, @lurkingshan 'cause they were interested in a side comment I made about this in some tags.

Even when they finally start to pull up their masks and talk, it's all immediate business (which is somewhat understandable given they're in danger but we're still lacking important context). Who am I rooting for? Who are these dudes? Why is this one sequence taking over ten minutes without giving me anything or anyone to latch onto? Are they assuming I read a blurb on the premise of the show and then immediately hit play? Because that's a cardinal sin--you never assume that everyone who watches your show or reads your book will know the premise, even in this day and age. You always lay in the necessary exposition/context to immediately anchor the audience into the premise and main character (or cast). (The only time you can assume everyone already knows at least the broad strokes of a concept is in fanfiction, but even then there could still be changes you made that you need to clue people in on from the get go. )

Then Tharn got his first premonition about Phaya, and I was like 'ohhhh, this is a story about a guy with some form of precognition who's in some sort of special forces. I wish they could have brought this up ten minutes ago, but okay.'

And finally, the big reveal: it's all a test! They're trainees, not officers! Well, that certainly explains why we got zero context all this time, because they didn't want to give away The Trick. Except it didn't feel like a clever rug pull at all. Worrying that the audience will clue in to what's going on doesn't mean you get to just Not Tell Them. You mislead them instead. The team could have easily rattled off the necessary details and context about the mission--after the training reveal, we would have chalked it up to practice mission prep. And with no context or reason to care about anything, I sat there for fifteen minutes only to be told that I didn't have to care anyway because it was all staged.

I would have taken any context, even something super cliche and ham fisted. "Okay boys, remember: our old mission commander is being held hostage in there and they'll kill him unless we hand over their psychotic leader. It took us weeks to track them down to this warehouse, and if they escape again it's game over. Don't let me down!" or something, anything for me to latch onto besides Dudes Doing Things. It's okay to mislead the audience, in fact you pretty much have to in order to pull the well worn "it was all an exercise" trick in the first place.

And fifteen minutes to pull all that off was a rather astonishing waste of screen time. The opening scene in the 2009 reboot of Star Trek establishes a handful of characters, makes you care about them, takes them through an amazing high stakes action sequence, and has you in tears at the end as we watch a guy we've only known for a few minutes sacrifice himself to save what's left of the crew as the film's protagonist--his son--is literally born, and it does all of that in almost half the time.

Compare that to The Sign, where in fifteen minutes we know: dudes in black fight things, one guy has premonitions, and actually they're trainees. No complexity, emotional stakes, or context beyond that. I was floored.

But what really made my jaw drop came after that.

A first episode has a lot of heavy lifting to do. You're introducing a world, a cast, promising the type of fun that's to be had, kickstarting the central relationships, etc etc. One of the most fundamental aspects to all this set up is to let us know why the main character/cast is here, what they're trying to do, and why it matters if they fail. And the entire first episode of the sign doesn't have that. At all. Period.

Oh, we're introduced to characters, the harsh training, Tharn's gift, Tharn and Phaya's initial dynamic, but once again we're given no context or emotionally relevant exposition. Who are these dudes? Why are they training? Why do they care about becoming special ops? What's their motivation? Goals? Obstacles in the way of that goal? Motive/Goal/Obstacle is the engine of story, and we're not given a single one until--and this is what blew my mind--almost halfway through the second episode.

In episode two we finally get a line from Tharn's bff about how if Tharn doesn't get onto the special ops team he won't be able to investigate his dad's (parents? can't remember) mysterious death.

A goal! A reason to care about Tharn's training! Emotional investment! Except it's coming way, way, wayyyyyyyyyyy too late. We should have known about this in the first five minutes of episode one. They should've found another fake hostage, Tharn should've lifted his mask and said "shit, if we fail this I'll never have what I need to find out how dad died." THANK YOU, now I have a reason to care.

I was shocked at such a massive oversight, like I'm gonna remember it as a cautionary example for a long time 'cause that's just wild to me.

[hastings727]

Deadlock and the Multiverse of Mechanics

"Hey, do you want to try Deadlock? Check your email, I just sent you an invite."

That was about two weeks ago, and those first few games felt quite stereotypical to the MOBA genre: Overwhelming.

Big map! Lots of stuff on screen! A variety of characters!

And so I picked a random character (Dynamo) and sat in a bot game with my friend and messed around. Those first two games felt both fast and extremely slow at the same time. They probably ended in 20 minutes or less, but I spent most of my time just observing stuff.

"Oh, there's little alleyways that you can't see into, built into the lanes." "Oh, you can shoot the souls that come out of enemies and they give you more money." "Oh you can deny enemies their souls if you shoot them first." "There's a shop to buy items? And underground areas with a "secret shop"? Teleporters? Jungle creeps?!" "YOU CAN AIR DASH IN THIS GAME?!"

Revelations fell one after the other, and I was suitably impressed. And then I didn't play it for 3 days. There was nothing wrong with the game of course, but you have to let things marinate sometimes. A mistake I often see from players in competitive games is the inability to take a break. I often take breaks from pvp games. It lets you breathe.

And so I sat down again after 3 days of marination, and went to their training mode. And when I say this feels like the multiverse of mechanics, I mean it: Deadlock is an amalgamation of mechanics that stem from Dota2, Team Fortress 2, League of Legends, and Gunz the Duel.

And I was severely lacking in two areas: The aiming, and the movement. When you first play Deadlock, it feels clunky. Every character has bars of stamina, and you use them to double jump, dash, ground dash. But what really opened my third eye was looking at the reticle during a dash: It glowed blue. Oho. That means something. And so I start messing around and lo and behold: You can spend more stamina to combine movement mechanics. You can dash and jump, you can dash, jump, and air dash. You can dash and slide. Oh boy, we are COOKING now.

This game, for being an invite only alpha test, feels incredibly crispy. The map invites you to mess around with its movement, because unlike league or dota there is verticality. I can climb buildings, I can dive down and attack enemies. There are two (technically 3) characters that can temporarily fly. Every revelation of this game's mechanics told me where Valve had gotten their ideas. And best of all, I could see in my teammates and opponents where their expertise in the game came from. Good aim, positioning and movement? Probably Overwatch, or Apex. Smart laning and roaming, knowing when to leave lane to buy items? Yeah, you probably play dota or league. If you've played ANY popular pvp game within the last 10 years, you'll find a home in Deadlock.

What I find the most pleasing about Deadlock however, is their insistence on a specific aesthetic: Neo-noir. This game sits squarely in the 1920s/30s americana, with hints of sci fi and supernatural throughout its characters. Tall buildings with ads adorning the sides. But yet one of the characters (Vindicta) is basically a witch with a sniper rifle. The architecture screams dark art deco, but yet 2 (possibly three?) of the characters are clearly robots. Where league and dota tend towards both high and low fantasy, with shakes of steampunky tech throughout, for Valve to choose dark deco neo noir feels like such a beautiful risk.

[philomenie]

Shadow Warrior

Hitman! Jolly - Part 2

CN despair, grief, mafiatheme, violence, sexual tension, cheating, guilt, explosions, death +18

If I forgot to mark something as CN, please let me know so I can add it!

@nojoyontheburn @jilliemiw86 @dsireland86 @aubrey-melinoe

SEVEN

“It's ruined!” Joakim grumbles angrily as they arrive at Doi's SUV. All the tires and the engine block are shot, “Then to my car!”

“Where did you park?” Nicholas wants to know.

“Further away....” growls Joakim, upset and panicked at the same time, afraid for this stubborn woman who means the world to him.

Joakim and Nicholas drag Alexei together to the car, which is parked hidden in another abandoned hall.

“Fuck, he has to go to hospital!” growls Nicholas.

Joakim glances at Alexei, “Can you still take it?” he wants to know.

“Hmm!” he nods, pale and cold with sweat, slowly losing consciousness.

“FUCK!” Joakim rages and punches the steering wheel, because if he drives to Doi's villa right now, it might be too late for Alexei.....

He looks to Nicholas for help, who nods grimly, “Drive him to the hospital!”

Joakim clenches his jaw and drives off with squealing tires.

When they finally reach the nearest hospital after what feels like hours, Alexei is unconscious.

“Is he still alive?” Joakim wants to know.

“Yes, just like that.....” growls Nicholas.

Joakim pulls up right outside the emergency room and, together with Nicholas, drags the unconscious Alexei out of the car. Together they drag him into the hospital, calling loudly for help.

They are immediately joined by nursing staff, who take Alexei from them and immediately push him on a stretcher into a treatment room.

A nurse looks at Joakim scrutinizingly, “This needs to be treated!” she explains seriously, pointing to his gunshot wounds.

“Later!” he hisses and is already on his way back to his car. Nicholas has to hurry so that he can keep up with him.

Nicholas has not yet closed the door when Joakim drives up and dashes off, trying to weave his way through the heavy traffic.

“DAMN!” he screams again and again, beside himself.

“Come down.....” growls Nicholas, ”I'm dying of fear for Nadja too... but there's no point in losing my nerve now!”

“If anything happens to her, I'll kill everyone!” Joakim grinds out through clenched teeth.

“Don't force yourself....” Nicholas rumbles, ”Even if nothing happens to her... THIS means merciless revenge! Folio has crossed all the lines that can be crossed and he's continuing to do so....”

“He has Doi..... he's still alive.....” growls Joakim.

“We have to get Nobu back... at all costs... alive!” hisses Nicholas tonelessly.

“Hmm,” grumbles Joakim bitterly.

“We HAVE to! Nobu is too important in this game of power and influence. He is an important building block for the balance, even if you see it differently. If Nobu dies, everything will fall apart at the seams... besides, he's my friend... my brother!” Nicholas explains quietly.

Joakim remains stubbornly silent. A thousand things are racing through his mind... the fear for Olivia, Nicholas' words, Folio's attack and Doi's actions... That this fucking, fucking, fucking motherfucker had HIS Liv... his hands on her body, his cock inside her... just the thought of it almost drives Joakim insane...

Doi on Olivia, moaning as she crumbles around him....

God he's never hated a human more than Doi at this moment.... Not even Semjon, Oleg or Kolja... and these men have caused him immense suffering, for which he has taken revenge....

But Joakim knows Nicholas is right, Doi is too important to die under Folio's shitty, greedy, power-hungry filthy paws..... While he could care less what happens once he and Olivia are gone, he feels too much responsibility for the people left behind.

First and foremost Alexei, Nicholas and Nadja.... Nadja's unborn child... and also Nikolaj and Zoja, who are growing up safe and secure under Nicholas' wing.

“You're right....” he murmurs, almost inaudibly, and at first Nicholas isn't sure if he's heard correctly. So he looks at him questioningly.

“You're right... we have to get Doi out of there!” he hisses angrily.

“I'm glad you agree!” Nicholas nods with relief.

“Yes, but first we need to get to our cursed women and make sure they're okay and really get them to safety this time!” growls Joakim.

“You say something!” hisses Nicholas, praying that Nadja is alive and well.

When Olivia gets out of the cab at the big gate of the villa, her mouth stops open for a moment.... The gate is wide open and everything is covered in dust.

“Are you sure this is the right address, miss?” the cab driver asks her.

“Hmm, yes!” she nods, swallowing.

“Should I wait?” the cab driver asks skeptically.

“No...” Olivia replies curtly and the driver says goodbye and drives off.

Slowly, Olivia starts walking up the long, winding driveway to Noah's estate. With every step she takes, her heart beats a little faster and her knees feel wobbly.

When she finally catches sight of the villa, she has to put her hand over her mouth. Most of the building has been destroyed.

A man comes up to her, gesticulating angrily and shouting at her. Olivia doesn't understand a word, as he speaks Japanese, and when the man lunges to hit her, he is angrily shouted back by another man.

Blinking, Olivia recognizes the man as Geto, Noah's right-hand man.

He approaches Olivia seriously, first yells at the Yakuza, who immediately backs away, then looks sternly at Olivia.

“Where's Nadja?” is the first thing Olivia wants to know.

“Already in hospital... she was lucky because the bombs destroyed the west wing and she was in the east wing!” Geto explains quickly.

Relieved, Olivia slumps a little and is caught by Geto.

“The Oyabun isn't here!” clarifies Geto.

Olivia turns pale, “I know... the meeting!” swallows Olivia, “Hasn't Nicholas called yet?”

Geto's face freezes.

“Folio...there was a shooting...they took Noah!” croaks Olivia and Geto's eyes widen in horror.

“Folio has the Oyabun?!” hisses Geto, stunned.

“Yes!” Olivia nods pale.

Geto looks around frantically, shouting short orders in Japanese, and the men who were busy clearing up drop everything and gather around Geto, who briefly and concisely explains everything to them.

Incredulous, stunned faces and equally stunned mumbling everywhere.

“As soon as Ruffilo gets here, we'll plan the next steps!” Geto growls vengefully.

Olivia nods languidly, hoping for nothing more than for Joakim and Nicholas to show up and for Joakim to take her in his strong, protective arms, reassuring her that everything will be all right.

At the same time, she is overcome with fear for Noah, realizes that she is not indifferent to him and feels a tugging in her chest.

Fuck.…

When a car comes rushing up the driveway, everyone looks up in shock and Geto barks short orders again, grabs Olivia by the arm and drags her towards the house, “Go inside, it's safer inside than outside!”

“What if it's Joakim? With Nicholas?” she gasps.

“We'll see in a minute....” replies Geto, but is interrupted by the thunder of machine gun fire and has to duck away.

Screaming, Olivia collapses and Geto pushes her into the entrance hall, “Hide... you know where the safe rooms are, their codes!” he hisses at her and is already on his way to his men to return fire.

Olivia is unable to move, huddled and whimpering behind the massive front door, holding her hands over her head.

God oh God... please don't let me die now, she pleads in panic.

Other men who were still in the building rush past her into the open, joining in the merciless battle.

Olivia can hear more vehicles crunching to a halt on the gravel of the driveway.

MOVE OR YOU DIE, she screams at herself and shakily gets to her feet, stumbling forward towards the safe room as the door crashes open behind her and bullets fly around her ears.

Screaming, she throws herself into the next room off the entrance hall and has the presence of mind to lock the door.

The bullets pass through without a problem and Olivia scrambles frantically to the room's built-in cupboards, tears them open and rummages through everything in search of a weapon with which to defend herself.

Damn it, she should have taken one of Joakim's pistols with her, she deeply regrets not having done so.....

All she finds is crockery, tableware....

Cursing, she continues to search when she hears kicks against the door.

No, no, no... pounds in her head and she grabs one of the massive silver candlesticks, which now lies heavy in her hands, ready to strike.

Olivia positions herself against the wall, right next to the door, the candlestick raised high.

The door flies off its hinges with a crash and a man with a machine gun storms in.

Olivia hits his head, screaming, so that he collapses, blood gushing from a deep laceration on his skull.

Curses can be heard in Italian and another man rushes into the room, whom Olivia hits directly in the face with the candlestick, smashing his nose and upper jaw in the process.

He also collapses, screaming.

Then suddenly barked commands can be heard in Italian.

With her heart pounding, ready to strike again, Olivia holds her breath.

Her whole body is trembling and she feels like she's going to faint at any moment, but the adrenaline rush is the only thing keeping her going.

“Hey... whoever's in there... come out!” a voice calls out to her.

Olivia feels sick with fear.

Joakim, please, where are you, she pleads in her mind and tears begin to run down her cheeks.

“I'm coming in now...” Olivia can hear a warm, not unpleasant voice and she prepares to strike again.

These bastards certainly won't get her without a fight....

A man appears in the doorway and immediately grabs Olivia's arms with an iron grip, preventing her from hitting him on the skull or in the face with the candlestick.

Panicked and screaming, Olivia tries to wriggle out of his grip, but the man, although somewhat smaller but stronger than her, holds her firmly, manages to wrest the candlestick from her and immediately presses a gun to her neck.

“Who do we have here....” he smiles amusedly, ”Doi's little doctor..... Well if that isn't a lucky shot.....”

Olivia can only stare at him, unable to get a word past her lips at the moment. She is scared to death.

The man takes the gun down and puts it back in his holster.

“Well, maybe I should introduce myself first, where are my manners, my mom would be horrified!” he grins and makes a little bow, ”Folio, Nick Folio... I think my name should mean something to you, don't you?”

Olivia turns even paler, her knees tremble and her ears ring. The last thing she realizes before a merciful faint envelops her are strong hands holding her as she slumps down, and a curse in Italian.

Joakim races up the driveway of Doi's estate, comes to a halt with his tires screeching so that the gravel flies away and jumps out of the car, Nicholas rushes after him.

They both stand still for a moment, shocked and frozen like pillars of salt.

The forecourt and entrance area of the building, which is clearly visible as the double doors are wide open, is littered with the corpses of Yakuza, but there are also strange men among the dead... their attackers.

“When did this happen?” Nicholas chokes out, stunned.

Joakim just stands there with his eyes wide open and continues to stare in shock at the picture in front of him until he breaks free and runs into the house, shouting “OLIVIA?!”.

Joakim searches every room for her, Nicholas is hot on his heels and also looks, but there is no sign of Olivia.

Panicked with fear, Joakim shouts out his anger, fear and pain.

“I'm sure she's still alive....,” Nicholas presses out.

Joakim sees red and grabs Nicholas, pushes him against the wall, presses his body against his.

“I'll kill you if anything happens to her!” he hisses, almost mad with fear.

Nicholas grabs his hands, pushing him away, “Come to yourself!” he growls at him, “We need cool heads now, ALL of us, or Folio will achieve his goal!”

Joakim stares at him for seconds more, then pushes himself off him, “FUCK!!!”

“From the looks of this place, nobody's alive....” snorts Nicholas, ”We should get out of here too, besides, you're still bleeding, that needs tending to!”

“Hmm,” grumbles Joakim, not particularly interested in that.

“The blood loss is weakening you, hell... the last thing you need!” growls Nicholas at him, ”Let's go to Doi's clinic!”

Joakim winces, has a brief flashback, but then nods because he knows Nicholas is right.

As they both leave the ruined villa, Nicholas' cell phone buzzes.

“Sergei!” he gasps in relief and picks up, ”IS SHE ALIVE? TELL ME SHE'S ALIVE!” Nicholas' cool, controlled façade suddenly collapses completely.

“She's alive, just a few bruises, the child is fine too... We're at the clinic!” Sergei explains calmly and Nicholas collapses on the steps of the villa, sobbing.

Joakim takes the cell phone from his hand, sits down next to him and strokes his back reassuringly.

“Is Olivia there with you!” he presses out harshly, his hands shaking and he feels sick to his stomach.

“Olivia? No... she wasn't here!” Sergei replies in surprise and Joakim has to close his eyes. Pure panic rushes through his body.

“She was coming to you after the explosion....” he whispers hoarsely, ”We're at the villa... everyone's dead... no sign of Olivia..... Folio must have come again, his men. They mowed them all down!”

“FUCK.... Get here as soon as possible....We need a plan!” Sergei gasps.

“Folio has Doi.... And probably Olivia now too....” Joakim presses out.

“God help us!” whispers Sergei, dazed.

“Even he can't help us now!” growls Joakim, ‘WE have to do it ourselves!’ and hangs up.

Nicholas has regained his composure and sits pale next to Joakim. Both men just stare straight ahead.

“I'm glad Nadja's alive and that she and the child are okay...” chokes out Joakim.

“Thank you!” whispers Nicholas, ”We'll find Olivia... get her back!”

“Hmm,” nods Joakim, who has kept his emotions bottled up, as he has successfully done for decades.

Because if he let them, he would be on the verge of madness and Olivia would be completely lost, he knows that.

“Let's go and then kick that bastard's ass!” growls Nicholas hatefully.

“Hmm,” grumbles Joakim grimly and stands up.

At the clinic, Sergei is already waiting for them and the place is teeming with Yakuza and Nadja's men, so Nicholas immediately rushes to Nadja.

Sergei pushes the bleeding Joakim to a doctor, who tends to his bullet wounds.

“Alexei... he's in a local hospital... make sure he gets here!” Joakim grumbles to Sergei.

“Of course!” he nods, ”I'll take care of everything!”

After Joakim has been looked after, he goes to Nadja's room. None of the men stop him, he is merely eyed curiously, sometimes disapprovingly, by some of them.

Well.... Joakim doesn't know if the men know his role in the deaths of Semjon, Oleg, Inga and Kolja, as well as the collapse of Kolja's club, but knowing Nadja, she has made sure that his name is not associated with it.

He enters unperturbed and has to swallow.

Nicholas is lying next to Nadja, holding her tightly in his arms, Nadja, fragile and pale with a few scratches, is clinging to him, sobbing quietly.

When they both become aware of Joakim, Nadja straightens up, detaches herself from Nicholas and reaches out her arms to Joakim, pleadingly.

He freezes as if struck by lightning. Nadja's gaze becomes pleading.

Nicholas also looks at him pleadingly, but says nothing and simply stands up, making room for him.

Joakim's armor, which he has put on, crumbles. He slowly approaches Nadja, sits down carefully on the edge of the bed and Nadja wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him towards her so that Joakim's body collides with hers and he also wraps his arms around her delicate and so familiar body.

Moaning, he buries his face in the crook of her neck.

“I'm so glad you're finally here,” Nadja swallows and tears run down her cheeks, ”When you left.... Our last argument.... I'm so terribly sorry for everything!”

Joakim nods at her shoulder, “I should have gone to her straight away, I can't forgive myself right now....”

“I should have told her... as soon as we found you...” Nadja whispers softly, ”Not wait, but go straight to her, drag her to the clinic if necessary, as drugged up as she was then, thanks to Doi!”

At the mention of Doi's name, Joakim flinches and looks hatefully at Nadja, “I'll never forgive Doi for that in my life... none of what he did!”

Nadja nods silently, “I know...” she whispers.

Joakim screws up his face as if he's been beaten.... FUCK, EVERYONE knows....

Nicholas has now discreetly left the room.

Nadja grabs his hands, “She loves you more than anything else in the world!”

Joakim nods silently, “I can't lose her.... Neither to Doi nor to Folio, that fucking scumbag!”

“You won't lose her to Doi and Folio... well we should all talk about that as soon as possible! He's unpredictable!” Nadja nods grimly.

“WHERE can I find the bastard?” Joakim wants to know.

“You're not going to carry out a one-man operation, Joakim, I won't let you! We'll strike together! Let's discuss everything so we can get started. I know you'd like to storm off straight away, but that would be suicide and you know it!” Nadja tries to convince him.

“I'm dying to think what he's doing to her....” Joakim swallows quietly.

“I know.... I feel the same way!” nods Nadja, ”But please... trust me, we'll find her and save her. And then you can do whatever you want with Folio!”

Joakim nods grimly, his expression and eyes darkening.

When Olivia regains consciousness, she is briefly confused as to where she is. The harsh reality hits her a second later...

Panicked, she jumps out of bed, runs to the door and tries to open it. Locked.

FUCK..... Desperate, she looks around.

It's a modern bedroom, the shutters are closed, two more doors lead off the room. Olivia appreciates a closet and a bathroom.

The room is decorated in bright colors and everything is coordinated. Fine fabrics and materials set the tone.

FUCK... WHERE is she?

At Folio.... She realizes that, but the room looks more like a guest room than a prison, which puts Olivia's mind at ease.... Except for the locked room door.

Olivia opens the shutters and feels sick. There are more shutters in front of the window in the form of bars. FUCK... so much for no prison.

Olivia opens the window and peers out.

It's dark by now and she can barely make out anything, except that the room must be on the top floor.

Frustrated, she closes the window again, only to be startled when the door is first unlocked, then opened.

Grinning broadly, Folio stands in the doorway, “Oh, wonderful, our little doctor is awake?”

Unbelievable anger boils up inside Olivia, “Says a man who is much smaller than me!” she spits at him.

Folio's mouth falls open at first, but then begins to laugh out loud, “God, she's quick-witted... something I really didn't expect considering what Doi usually has for women.”

“I'm not one of those women and Noah certainly doesn't HAVE me!” growls Olivia angrily, ”It's business.... Friendly, if you want to call it that!”

Smiling, Folio nods at her, “Well.... But for Doi it seems to be more than that... and I know it! That's why you're invaluable to me!” and his gaze becomes lurking, cold and calculating.

Olivia tries to defy him, to show no fear, although her heart begins to beat faster.

“You were with the Swede.... Before he died, wasn't you? It's a pity he's no longer with us, I followed his work, he was good... damn good. Someone I could have used too!” Folio suddenly blurts out and Olivia turns pale.

She can only nod silently and tears form in the corners of her eyes.

He doesn't know that Joakim is still alive, she hammers in her head with relief.

“Ohh, tears? So you really loved the Swede? A stone-cold murderer? Tsktsktsk... and this from a doctor who saves people's lives?” Folio teases her.

Olivia grits her teeth, “I will NOT talk about Joakim!” she hisses at him.

“Hmmm” with narrowed eyes he looks at her, ”He has the Volkov clan on his conscience, doesn't he? He and Nadja....... Yelena loved her uncle!” he then growls.

Olivia has to swallow, doesn't answer him, notices how a fine sweat covers her body, her heart beats faster.

Folio makes a leap towards her and grabs her by the upper arms, his face next to hers; startled, Olivia flinches and stiffens.

Folio sucks in her scent, “Hmm, you're scared...” he smiles and runs his tongue along her neck, making Olivia flinch again and turn away in disgust.

“You should be....,” Folio rumbles, letting go of her unexpectedly.

Olivia stumbles backwards a little, looking at Folio with widened eyes, who smiles charmingly at her again.

“It would be nice if you could clean yourself up a bit, take a shower, do your hair.... Then something nicer than this...” he points snidely at Olivia, who is wearing her jeans and Joakim's hoodie, ”There's a small selection of things in the wardrobe.... The size should fit. Dinner's in an hour... I expect you to be presentable by then!”

He turns to leave.

“And if I don't want to?” Olivia hisses after him.

Slowly, Folio turns back around, smiling sardonically, “Well, then Doi will have to realize that you really don't give a damn about him!”

Olivia turns pale, “Noah's here too?!” she whispers harshly, “Where? How is he? He's hurt, isn't he?”

Folio nods slowly, “He's here... though not quite as comfortably housed as you.... He's been adequately taken care of!”

Olivia makes a dash towards Folio, “Please... I need to see him!” she croaks.

“Well... that depends entirely on you and your willingness to cooperate” Folio explains coolly, looking at her lurkingly.

“I'll see you for dinner in an hour then?” he asks.

Olivia nods with a lump in her throat, “Yes... in an hour!” she chokes out.

“Fantastic... then maybe we'll take a little trip to the cellar... but only if you know how to behave.... Oh well, we have other guests... be charming!” and with that he slams the door behind him and locks it again.

Olivia stands there blinking, unable to believe what has just happened.

“How many more houses does Doi have?” Joakim asks, glancing sideways at Nicholas as both men drive through the night towards Doi's hunting lodge.

“A few!” grins Nicholas, ”But very few people know about his hunting lodge... so it's the perfect hiding place. Especially because it's well secured. Nobu doesn't like to leave anything to chance!”

“Hmm,” Joakim grumbles gloomily.

“I've already sent men there to secure and prepare everything. If everything is in order, we can keep Nadja safe there. Folio either wants her dead or in his hands. And neither is going to happen!” growls Nicholas.

“And when do we strike back?” Joakim wants to know impatiently, ”The bastard has Olivia!”

“Now that we know all is for the best in the cabin, we'll meet on neutral ground with some hmmm, let's say a few 'disaffected' men of Folio! Sergei has done a great job!” explains Nicholas.

“Hmm, he was really quick, wasn't he....” Joakim interjects.

“You don't trust him?” Nicholas wants to know immediately.

Joakim shrugs his shoulders, “I don't know him well enough.... But what I do know is that Folio couldn't have done all this without an informant among Doi and Nadja's men... or several informants... HOW else could he have found out about our meeting... HOW could he have smuggled bombs into Doi's house... into Nadja's townhouse?”

Nicholas' face darkens, “You're probably right, there is at least one, if not several informers.... But Sergei? I know him really well by now.... I get on with him, call him a friend, Boris too.... What would Sergei of all people have to gain from betraying Nadja and Doi, from wanting them dead? That's not logical at all!”

Joakim shrugs his shoulders again, “Like I said, just a thought.....”

But the thought continues to gnaw at Nicholas, who begins to brood dully.

After everything has been set up to Nicholas' satisfaction in Doi's hunting lodge, a gross understatement for the spacious log cabin on a quiet lake in the surrounding woods, the two men are on the road again.

This time to meet the potential informants.

Nicholas nervously plays with his ring as he drives the car.

Joakim does not miss this.

“A wedding ring?” he suddenly wants to know.

Nicholas looks up in confusion, then nods nervously, leaving the ring alone, “Yes, a wedding ring!” he growls.

Joakim gives him a sideways glance.

“She's dead!” he then grumbles, ”Camilla. She was the love of my life... until I met Nadja!”

Joakim nods slowly, “Are you trying to tell me something?”

“No!” Nicholas shakes his head, ”Definitely not... just information. Nadja knows what she meant to me, still means....”

“If something were to happen to Olivia....” Joakim gulps.

“THAT'S absolutely not what you meant to say, DAMN IT!” hisses Nicholas, ”Nothing will happen to Olivia. We'll get her out of there as soon as we can. If we find out where Folio is tonight, we can free her tomorrow at the latest!”

“If he has her with him....” growls Joakim darkly.

“I think so....” nods Nicholas, ”Folio loves trophies.... Olivia is a.... So....”

“He's got her with him!” Joakim finishes the sentence grimly.

“Exactly! So does Nobu!” growls Nicholas.

“Then I hope we can still recruit informants today!” Joakim hisses angrily.

Nicholas drives into the underground garage of the elegant office building in the city center.

He has changed his clothes before they set off, is once again wearing an elegant anthracite-colored suit and has loosely tied his hair up in a bun. The scratches from the concrete splinters on his face don't detract from the overall picture, rather they emphasize it.

Joakim, on the other hand, is still in the same clothes he was wearing at the shooting.

His black cargo pants are filthy with dust and blood, as is his black turtleneck sweater, and one of his sleeves has been cut away so that the doctor could treat his two gunshot wounds. The pistol holster on top completes the overall picture of a ruthless killer.

His scowl, the loose hair hanging down his face and his many scars show at first glance that he is not to be trifled with. He radiates a predatory dangerousness that is impossible to escape.

Nicholas gives him a sideways glance, having just realized how dangerous Karlsson really is, how ice-cold, especially when it comes to Olivia.

So he turns to him in the elevator, “Your weapons.... Are they loaded?” he wants to know.

Joakim snorts in amusement, “You don't think I'm going to a meeting like this unarmed, with empty magazines, do you?”

“I just don't want anyone to get nervous!” explains Nicholas.

“I certainly don't get nervous!” growls Joakim, giving Nicholas an angry look.

“Good, then we've sorted that out!” smiles Nicholas, hoping that this really is the case.

The elevator stops on one of the upper floors.

“Whose offices are these?” Joakim wants to know.

“Nobus... more like one of his companies. But very few people know that!” grins Nicholas.

“Of course!” Joakim snorts in disgust, looks at the company sign and grimaces, ‘Seriously?!’ he growls, ”A development aid company?”

“Yes! One of his charity projects... he has several of them!” nods Nicholas.

“For money laundering, drugs....” growls Joakim.

“Hmm, no, not this one... it's real and clean too!” Nicholas shakes his head.

“And why the meeting here then? If it's clean?” Joakim wants to know.

“Precisely because of that. It's safer for us, we can't take any more risks, not the slightest!” growls Nicholas.

“I see...” nods Joakim, ”And the men who can't be convinced or bought.…”

“Won't be leaving the building, yes!” grumbles Nicholas.

“I can live with that!” sighs Joakim and Nicholas opens the double doors of the spacious meeting room with a flourish and enters with a smile.

Olivia stares into the bathroom mirror, which is still a little steamed up, and wonders for the hundredth time HOW this could have happened.

Damn... she should have heard Joakim and Nicholas too, gone back to the apartment and waited for Joakim there. Then none of this would have happened, her in this hopeless, dangerous situation.

She breathes in and out deeply, wipes the cursed mirror again and wishes that she could please wake up from this nightmare.

Despair bubbles up inside her again and she has to swallow to keep from bursting into tears again.

God, Joakim.... Please... get me out of here, she prays again, pleading in her head.

She purses her lips with trembling fingers, then tries to apply eyeliner and mascara, which makes her look more radiant.

Everything in her resists making herself pretty for Folio and his ominous guests.

But his threat to harm Noah if she is not obedient works. She knows that this is not just lip service, but the brutal truth.

And as much as she hates Noah, as much as she keeps telling him that she doesn't care about him, she also has other feelings for him.

Is it love? She has just asked herself that more than once.

If it is love, then it is a different kind of love that she feels for Joakim.

With him, she just knows that HE is the one. The man of her heart, her soulmate, her second half.

With Noah it's different, more like something forbidden that tempts her. God... that's the last thing she needs!

Olivia opens the closet and is speechless. She runs her fingers carefully over the fine fabrics in front of her. There's a fortune in that fucking wardrobe! Designer clothes, probably worth more than her house... probably? Definitely!

Olivia is still staring at the contents and flinches when the door is unlocked and opened.

She hastily grabs the bath towel and holds it in front of her body. She certainly doesn't want to present herself in her underwear.

A stern-looking, elegant older woman enters the room and looks Olivia up and down disdainfully, “Mamma mia!” she moans, “A giantess!”

Olivia opens her mouth in disbelief, giantess is new!

The woman resolutely walks past her, searches through the clothes in the wardrobe and pulls out a tasteful dark red, tight-fitting cocktail dress. She holds it up in front of Olivia, “Yes, that should work!” she nods and holds it out to her.

“Put it on and then come. The guests are starting to arrive!”

Perplexed, Olivia grabs the dress, “Who are you?” she wants to know.

The woman clicks her tongue in annoyance, “I'm Donna Alessandra Folio!” she declares dismissively.

Olivia goes cold, so this is Folio's mother.... No wonder where he gets his self-confidence from, with this woman, Olivia must recognize without envy, because Donna Alessandra radiates a dignity, pride and self-assurance like no other.

“So, hurry up!” she snarls again, then looks at Olivia scrutinizingly, ”And put your hair up, wear jewelry, discreetly. You're supposed to represent something!”

Olivia's features stiffen, “Represent something? Represent what? A trophy?!”

Donna Alessandra chuckles, “You're a quick learner..... Bravo, a clever child then. Hopefully also smart enough not to do nonsense.... But you should know that after being with the Swede and now with Doi!”

She spits out both names.

“I'm not with Noah!” Olivia repeats coolly.

Mockingly, Donna Alessandra raises an eyebrow, “Sure....”

Olivia grits her teeth and doesn't contradict Donna Alessandra again so as not to irritate her.

Interested, Donna Alessandra then looks at Olivia, “Then what? What connects you to Doi then? And the Swede.... How did you get involved in all this anyway... a doctor... with a lover who is a Russian mafia hitman... who has the Volkov clan on his conscience... and now with the Oyabun of the local Yakuza... Tell me. HOW do you do that?”

Olivia swallows hard, thinking feverishly, “I didn't know Joakim was a killer....” she whispers quietly.

“And when you knew, you stayed with him anyway!” Donna Alessandra finishes the sentence.

“He is.....” Olivia tries to defend him.

“A good person?! A victim who was just following orders?!” sneers Donna Alessandra, ”No... he's a stone-cold killer who has parts of my family on his conscience. My eldest son... my daughter, who was almost a child!” Donna Alessandra hisses at Olivia, ”No, he WAS a stone-cold killer and may he burn in hell as he deserves!”

Stunned, Olivia stares at her, her mind racing.

“Surely you didn't know THAT about him... that he killed CHILDREN... she was only 14!” Donna Alessandra's voice trembles.

“I.....” Olivia is at a loss for words.

“And Doi is no better... he doesn't usually kill himself, he has people killed, that pathetic coward, but he's a conscienceless murderer too! And you're no better than either of them because you love them!” she spits at Olivia.

Olivia is speechless for a moment, but then she realizes how anger wells up inside her, “Oh and your son is a saint against that, yes? Blowing up buildings with people in them, a pregnant woman... that's something completely different of course... ambushing his opponents and attacking the unarmed.…”

Astonished, Donna Alessandra looks at Olivia, then snorts in amusement, “Fighting spirit and strength... at least now I know why the Swede and Doi liked you, apart from your looks... as a doctor, you're probably not exactly stupid either...” scrutinizing, as if only now seeing Olivia properly, she looks at her, narrowing her eyes.

Olivia defies this look coldly, her heart pounding.

Donna Alessandra's gaze is grueling and seems to go on forever, and Olivia's heart slips more and more into her trouser pocket.

Finally Donna Alessandra releases her, nods, “Well... we'll see!” she mumbles cryptically, then waves to Olivia, “Get dressed!!! We've already lost too much time!” she growls and rushes out of the room.