#it’s trying to figure out how to not make it a wall of dialogue either!!!

[loverboydotcom]

im SOOOO ready and excited to be done with chapter one of this fucking draft so i can actually see how the story will progress not just in the present but the beautiful chronological flashbacks showcasing beau and his best friend bobby. but also in order to do that i also have to get past what is probably going to be the worst and most awkward flashback to write which I’m calling “how the fuck do a 20 and a 21 year old talk for the first time about the fact one of them is dying” good god i would not wish that level of awkwardness a character not knowing what to say on my writer enemies. I mean the fact there’s no right thing to say in that context is what drives it and brings the tension but it’s too much tension with little pay off it’s uncomfortable situation scene-ing too close to the sun. like how do you find the source of resolution in that just an overall awful scene to construct all around

[textmel8r]

[ DRABBLE ] 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ! ( fourth installment ) in which you are forced to plan a corporate event with your office enemy .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; kento nanami

୨୧˚ cw; smut (?) , dub-con , alcohol consumption , profanity

( flashback; ) Wreaths and holly plants decked the usually barren, white walls of the seventh floor office level, and soft Christmas music looped on the overhead speaker in attempts to induce a jolly spirit. Colleagues conversed, discussing plans for December break over plastic cups of spiked cider. Everyone seemed in high morale; even Gakuganji, who donned a cheaply made Santa suit, still wrinkled from its time being folded in a package. Your first ever office party was about as much as you expected–not the worst time, but certainly not the best time, either. It didn’t help that you were still technically the “newbie” despite having been a member of the company for a few months at that point. Man, it was hard to make friends in an office full of stoic suits.

You remain near a far wall, slumped against the oversized copy machine with a drink in hand. Nobody had even appreciated your dress; a modest crimson thing with white, cottony trims to mimic Old Saint Nick. Figures. You pout into your cup, knocking back a heavy swig.

“Woah-ho, you sure went all out.”

The dialogue was unexpected and you sputter on a swallow of liquor, startled. A preemptive hand pats your back, something like a mother trying to burp a newborn. You swallow your spit at last, recollect yourself, and whip your head up to follow the source of the voice that nearly killed you. There stood a man tall and spindly in his stature with the most beautifully long, goldish hair drawn back into a ponytail. He is dressed down, wearing a simple pair of dark jeans and a sweater in favor of the suits nearly everyone else sported. 

“You shouldn’t sneak up on ladies,” comes your meager reply. Your free hand smooths down the skirt of your dress, and you clear your throat. “You scared the shit out of me.”

The man smiles apologetically. “Ah, I noticed. My bad.”

“It’s okay. Just… just don’t do it again.”

“Roger that.” He has his own drink, and you manage to catch a glimpse of it over the rim of the solo cup. It’s a dark, murky color, much more amberish than the cider that was being served. “I haven’t seen your face around before, it made me curious.”

“I secured a position here during spring.” Now that you think about it, he was unfamiliar to you as well. You would have definitely remembered that ponytail. “Are you–I mean, do you work in this building?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, they got me holed up in the Shibuya location,” he winks, leaning in. “I make it a habit to come to all the office parties, though. I can’t resist a little holiday cheer.” Two bony knuckles move to brush delicately against the trim of your dress. “I’m Haruta Shigemo, and you’re…?”

“Not interested.” 

Shigemo juts his bottom lip out. “C’mon, don’t be like that. I can’t know your name?”

Holding an index finger to your chin, you pretend to think about it. “What will you give me in return?”

A smirk worms its way onto Shigemo’s thin lips. He angles his hip toward you and pulls up the hem of his knitted sweater, gesturing to the uncanny flask half sticking out of his jeans’ pocket. “I brought good stuff,” he sings quietly, away from prying ears, and suddenly you understand the reason for his drink being a couple shades too dark. “And I’m good at sharing.”

Yeah, maybe it wasn’t the wisest decision to accept unknown liquor from a virtual stranger, you should’ve really considered all of the possible outcomes to this situation. You’d already had a little over two cups of warmed cider, rotating on the axis between tipsy and full on drunkenness. Your foggy brain didn’t care much to think about how some of this so-called “good stuff” would only lead to an inevitable, total inebriation. Or, a less likely but just as concerning scenario, Shigemo’s flask could be chock full of poison. Either way, you were itching to turn a less-than-okay party experience into a fun one.

“Y/n L/n,” you said finally, and Shigemo looks pleased. Strategically as to not give away the secret, he stood before you and widened his shoulders to create a makeshift cover while he poured a solid few glugs from flask to your cup. Immediately, the booze reeks of something strong like industrial glass cleaner. Your nose wrinkles as the stench singes the hair from your nostrils. “Smells fucking rancid.”

“Maybe you’re just not used to top shelf liquor?” Was that a dig? You’ll show him that you’re plenty accustomed with expensive booze (you’re not. not at all).

So you drank it. The taste of piss mixed with vinegar nearly made you retch, but after your second glass and an assload of determination, it started to taste… good? Maybe this Shigemo guy wasn’t too bad. The rest of the night was a blur of silly dancing to dumb Christmas songs, ugly laughing at the horse calendars pinned to the wall, and… well, the bathroom.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Your tone was breathy, a cross between giggly and pure apprehension. There in the men’s restrooms, you were perched up on the sink counter. That festive dress was slipped up around your hips by two slender, greedy hands, and a tiny waist worked between your thighs. Shigemo kissed you into silence.

“Why not?” He kisses you again, fumbling with his belt buckle. He’s nipping down your neck, whispering, “The risk is so fucking hot.”

And oh goodness, was he a man on a mission. Tearing the collar of your dress down beneath your breasts, fingering holes into your sheer stockings, stuffing a fist inside your panties… You were in no state of coherence to stop him.

Had it not been a professional obligation on his part to attend this year’s Christmas party, Nanami finds himself fantasizing about all the ways he’d much rather be spending this brisk winter evening. Probably soaking in his tub, nursing a glass of red wine and working on that book he’d been putting off thanks to the ungodly amount of work on his plate as of late. Then, he’d exercise those cooking skills he seldom had time to use and prepare a meal that had much more to offer than these feeble, sugary snacks at this party. Seriously? Cookies and cake? They were adults for goodness sake.

The floor was stuffy and claustrophobia-inducing. Everywhere he turned, Nanami was accidentally bumping somebody with his shoulder or his elbow or some other limb he lost track of. And the conversations were abysmal. Nanami has always been good with his words—he had to be in a profession like this—but Christ, talking to his zombies-for-coworkers was a worse fate than death itself. They drone on about office assignments, about deadlines and paperwork with no hint of light behind their eyes. Is that what he looks like to others? A worrisome thought, that Nanami was just as much of a slave to the corporate world as they were.

The deep train of thought is cut off before it spirals when red catches his eye. A dress red as rubies sticks out like a sore thumb among the sea of blacks and blues and grays of suits. You’re dressed in a silly get up, like those Mrs. Claus actresses in the malls that take pictures with children. Y/n L/n, Nanami recalls your name. He knows you, the newest employee in the office. He’s had very few chances to speak with you, and when he did it mostly consisted of him relaying orders from Mr. Gakuganji. But even in those brief instances, Nanami saw it plain as day: you were different. The first lively fool he’d seen in a while, eyes still glinting with the prospects of optimism and naive hope for the future. Foolish indeed, but he couldn’t bring himself to hate it. You were a breath of fresh air, but Nanami knew that it was only a matter of time before you were beaten and battered into another mindless cog in the corporation's machine.

A strange urge bloomed within the hollows of the man's chest; an urge that told him to initiate communication with you. Perhaps just a "hello" at the very least, seeing as you were his direct subordinate. It was the polite thing to do, right? Or maybe that was just a weak excuse he convinced himself of because Nanami didn't want to admit that you intrigued him in every sense of the word. You would provide an interesting back and forth, something Nanami desperately craved in the throes of this tedious party.

Golden eyes scanned the room. But no matter how long and meticulous he stared into the mass of bodies, Nanami could not locate the shade of red that had incited this search to begin with. There was a muted pit of disappointment the settled heavy in his stomach when he came to the realization that you simply were gone. He didn't doubt the probability that you ditched, no, he'd commend you for doing something he could not. Nanami sighs under his breath, lets his shoulders droop, and takes the last swig of his drink (water of course, the spiked cider was much too sweet for his tastes) before maneuvering through the crowd towards the bathroom. A five minute breather alone in a stall sounded like Heaven on Earth.

He shouldered through the metallic door, eyes closed, fingers tugging the knot of his too-tight tie as he stepped inside the restrooms. Only the sound of a feminine gasp was what pried his heavy eyelids open.

All three bodies froze: Nanami by the entrance with a slack jaw and wide eyes, a man he vaguely recalls from the Shibuya district stood between a pair of opened legs with his jeans tugged down to mid-thigh, and you. You, with your stupidly red dress in disarray, the neckline dipped below your bare breasts and the lower hem bunched up around the curve of your waistline. There you were, sitting up on the sink completely exposed... God, that bastard's hand was still buried down the front of your panties.

As if time suddenly unfroze, said bastard rips his hands away from your most delicate parts in favor of pulling his jeans back up. Nanami blinks once before cocking his head to the side at the unnatural speed of light, focusing on the faux plant in the corner, the uneven tiles beneath his dress shoes, the cracks in the eggshell paint on the wall... anything besides your indecent self.

"Whoops, would ya' look at that?" Shibuya fucker laughs halfheartedly as he fumbles with the button on his jeans, flustered and giggly. "Guess we got a little carried away there, my bad man!" He slinks towards the door, towards Nanami, but pauses. "Hey, you're Nanami Kento, right?"

"Yes." It's a cold response. Nanami doesn't look to the other man, instead he keeps his eyes trained down as to not get another eyeful of you.

"Aha right! Well," Shibuya fucker sweatdrops, clasping a hand over Nanami's shoulder. "Let's keep this a secret from the higher ups?"

The elder grimaces. "Please don't touch me."

The hand is ripped away. Shibuya fucker shows his palms in sort of a defensive stance as more anxious chuckles erupt from his throat. "Good seeing you, then!" And with that, he slips out of the bathroom leaving you high and dry. The prick didn't even bother to stay and help you get recollected.

"I'm decent." You sound meek, a tone Nanami has yet to hear from you thus far. It sounds small. Humiliated. "You... you can look now."

So he does, only to regret it. There you are, hopped off the sink and standing before him in a pitiful display. Your slender neck was tainted with love marks, darkened bruises bit into flesh with little artistry. Your stockings were shredded carelessly, bits of plumpness squishing through the holes. Your hair was mussed, forehead sweaty, lipstick smeared and... why was Nanami so irritated by the sight?

"What..." He starts, trying to find the words. "What is the matter with you?"

You gawk. "Nothing."

"Nothing." Nanami scoffs, hands pressed to his hips. "How careless could you possibly be? Fucking at a work event? I mean, for fuck's sake Y/n."

"I'm sorry, okay?" Your words are clipped. As if you have any right to catch an attitude with him right now.

"Sorry doesn't change the fact that you..." His sentence trails off into a tiny, frustrated growl scratching from the back of his tongue. The man takes his nose bridge between his thumb and forefinger. "The door was unlocked. Anyone could've walked in and saw you like that!" Exposed. Bare. Vulnerable.

"I don't know what else you want to hear other than sorry." Nanami doesn't miss the microscopic vocal crack in the word sorry. You hug yourself tight, forearms crossed over your chest. Your shoulders stutter, and your lips are sucked between your teeth to hide the wobble in them. "I'm... sorry."

You dress strap hangs off your shoulder. Nanami can't peel his gaze away from the strip of fabric. He takes a slow step in, gauging your reaction to it. You don't show any signs of discomfort, so he advances closer. The red strap is dainty against his rough fingers, so he cautions himself to be extra gentle when slipping it back up into place.

"Thanks," you sniffle.

He shushes you. Nanami isn't done yet, far from it. You still look disheveled and sad and weepy and he can't fucking stomach it for some ungodly reason. So he gets to work, first wetting a paper towel in the bathroom sink—the same one you'd been getting groped on a mere few minutes prior—and gingerly swipes away the smeared makeup from your kiss-swollen lips. Then, he's taking it upon himself to straighten out your hair. You let him stroke down your baby hairs without pushback, limply letting him rearrange your appearance as if you were some sort of life sized doll.

Nanami steps back to admire his work. The evidence of foreplay was nearly gone, save for the dreadful state of your stockings and those ugly teeth-shaped indents down the side of your neck. “Take those stockings off before you leave the bathroom,” he utters. “They look…” Slutty is the word that comes to mind first, but he’d never say it aloud. So he leaves it at that.

You’re looking at him with an unreadable expression. If anything, Nanami discerns a little concern in the way your brows turn upwards. “Are you going to tell anyone about this?”

He wants to oh so bad. To be the lame tattletale and snitch to Mr. Gakuganji because fraternization is wrong, and fraternization in the workplace is double wrong. “I should report you,” there’s a pregnant pause, “but I won’t.”

Why? He asks himself.

You seemed to have read his thoughts. “Why?”

Nanami doesn’t have an answer to that. Where is this slice of mercy coming from? All he knows for certain is that staring at the trembling woman in front of him any longer will have him blow a fuse. “Go home, Y/n.” It’s the last thing he offers before turning on his heel and walking back out into the Christmas function, swallowing down each and every confusing feeling swirling around his brain.

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tags . • @justbelljust @amnmich @ti-mame @silkija @maddietries @vyntagei @ebrysteria @aesukuni

[hunny-bean]

Hello, I have a Matt x reader x Frank castle smut request. Frank tells Matt what he does with you after his patrol, how tight you are and how good your pussy tastes. Frank takes Matt to his apartment and the two have a lot of fun with the reader. They use the reader like a sex doll. Despite the years with Frank, the reader is too tight and Matt is too big.

In High Demand

Pairing: Frank Castle x Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Matt's been overworking himself. Frank knows someone who can help him relax.

Word Count: 8.2k

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit Sexual Content, Threesome, Oral Sex (M and F Receiving), Unprotected P in V, Praise and Degradation, An Obscene Amount of Dialogue, The Reader is Very Slutty (I'm Sorry. . . No I'm Not).

A/N: Well, I'm officially out of the frying pan and into the fire. Of course, by fire, I mean threesome. I'm sorry this took so long for me to finish. I'm a bit of a slow editor. If you have any constructive criticism, I will absorb ALL of it happily. I'm trying to improve my writing skills as much as I can. Also, I'm always taking requests! XOXO.

Read on AO3

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"I really appreciate you helping me out with this, Frank."

Frank looked up from where he was sitting with his back against the brick barrier. "Yeah, well, I owed you one," he replied, "and I'm not a huge fan of being in debt."

The two vigilantes were resting on a vacant rooftop, listening closely for any signs of danger. Hearing nothing, Matt figured the "Devil of Hell's Kitchen" had driven everyone with something to fear from him back inside. He declared his nightly patrol a success. As soon as he switched off attack mode, he felt the exhaustion hit him, and he slumped down on the wall next to Frank.

"So, you're saying you did all this to balance the scales?" Matt asked incredulously.

"Just about," Frank muttered, scratching a little blood stain off the knife Matt let him borrow. "And I only beat up one guy, so it's not like I actually had to work for it."

"I'd say you worked hard enough. I mean, you did make it all night without killing anyone."

"There you go again with that self-righteous bullshit," Frank groaned. "What I don't get is why you would ask someone you constantly feel the need to babysit for help."

Taking a deep breath in, Matt forced himself to stand, getting ready for the walk back to his apartment.

"You were convenient," he explained. "I knew your skills and I knew where to find you. Also, you're not nearly as lethal without all your guns."

"Well, fuck you too," Frank grumbled. He waited for Matt to take a few steps towards the ladder before chucking the knife he was holding directly at the back of his head. He watched it spiral through the air, perfectly on course, only to land gingerly in Matt's hand. It was almost like the knife changed its trajectory at the last second, but Frank knew that wasn't the case. Besides, it's not like he actually wanted to hit him. He didn't even think that was possible.

Matt turned back in his direction. Even through the mask, Frank could feel the raised eyebrow. He ignored it. Hopping up, he made his way over so the two of them could walk together.

"Okay, but why ask for help at all?" Frank pressured. "It's obvious you can handle yourself, and you've never asked before."

"You know as well as anyone how unpredictable these streets can be," Matt began. "You're right, most nights I can handle myself, but. . . I wasn't so sure about tonight. I wanted someone there, just in case."

He was about to start climbing down the ladder, but Frank's voice stopped him before he could.

"Something tells me you're not gonna be so sure about tomorrow, either."

"What?"

"Come on, Red. Look at yourself. You're practically dead on your feet," Frank pointed out. "It's three in the goddamn morning, you just fought like fourteen people, and now, what? You're going home to get your two hours of sleep before work?"

"Four."

"That's still not enough, and you know it."

"I'll be fine," Matt asserted.

"No one can do that every night and be fine."

"Why do you care?"

"Because unlike some people, I actually respect what you do around here, and I don't wanna find out what this shithole would look like without you," Frank raved. There was a long silence after that, both men startled by the declaration.

"You won't."

Matt began his descent, ready to end their conversation. Frank, it seemed, had other plans.

"If you were fine, you wouldn't be taking the ladder," he called down after him.

Matt paused, resting his head against the metal rung in front of him. He was really starting to get aggravated by Frank's incessant concerns. The most annoying part was that he was right. Matt would usually make it home from patrol in two minutes flat, his feet touching nothing but rooftops. He picked a shorter building with a ladder tonight because he feared his body was too sore to make the jumps. To say it had been a rough week would be an understatement.

'You have nothing to prove,' he repeated in his head like a mantra. It worked at first; he made it another three steps down, but then he heard Frank's stupid voice again.

"Why won't you just admit that you're burnt out?"

Matt gritted his teeth, unable to hide his frustration any longer. He gave up on avoiding conflict and began climbing back up to the roof to be on the same level as Frank.

"I am not burnt out," he growled.

There was an awkward pause as Frank looked Matt up and down, thinking. He carefully considered his slumped posture and his shoulders racked with tension. Matt couldn't see him, but he could feel Frank's eyes examining him, and it made him uncomfortable. He was about to say something, but Frank broke the silence before he could.

"When's the last time you got laid?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"I'm sorry-"

"You're not a virgin, are you?"

"What? No!"

"So how long's it been?"

Matt wasn't sure how to feel about the sudden shift in the argument. he kinda felt like he was in a train headed towards a cliff that suddenly veered off course. He was safe from the fall, but who knew what lay ahead of him now?

"Why the hell would you want to know that?" he asked.

"Just answer the question."

"Uhh, a few months? I don't kn-"

He was interrupted again by Frank letting out a low, impressed whistle.

"That's even worse than I thought," Frank said.

"You've thought about this?" Matt asked, horrified.

"No, jesus christ, man, it's obvious. You're all tense 'n shit. You look like you haven't relaxed in a while, that's all."

Matt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose through his mask. "I think we should go," he mumbled.

"I think you should get some."

"Ok, well it's not like you've got someone waiting for you at home either," Matt snapped.

Frank looked at Matt quizzically, letting out a surprised chuckle.

"What?" Matt asked, exasperated.

"Nothing," Frank responded. "It's just that you really are off your game."

"What are you talking about?"

"There is someone waiting for me at home right now."

"Bullshit."

"I thought you could, like, smell it on me or something," Frank speculated.

Now that he mentioned it, Matt did notice something different about Frank's unique smell. There was a slightly sweeter scent intertwined with his typical smoke and rosewood. He knew Frank wasn't lying, but for some reason he didn't want to believe it.

"I didn't hear anyone else inside when I came to get you," he added.

"She was out with some friends. She should be home by now."

"You realize how made up that sounds, right?"

"Cut the crap. You know it's true."

"Yeah, I know," Matt conceded. "She your girlfriend?"

"Yeah. . . At least, I think she is."

"Do you go out on dates often?" Matt supplied. He made a 'come on' gesture to encourage Frank to follow as he started down the ladder once more.

"I don't exactly know what counts as a date in your world, but I think we do." Frank inhaled sharply as he almost lost his footing on a loose bar.

"Wait, does she know who you are? The terms of your agreement-"

"I remember all the terms, thanks," Frank muttered. "I didn't tell her. She figured it out pretty quick though. Maybe I should grow a beard or somethin'."

"Do you love her?" Matt asked when they reached the bottom. The two of them started off in the same direction for their homes, taking only the deserted back alleys they were all too familiar with.

"Well I've only known her for three months," Frank answered, dusting little flakes of rust off his black jacket, "but I think I'm really starting to. She might just be the prettiest, sweetest girl I've ever known."

"That's a good sign. Okay, one last thing: Does she sleep with other people?"

Frank suddenly looked like he was remembering something funny. "Only if I ask her to," he smirked.

Matt was pretty sure his brain short-circuited, and he stopped dead in his tracks. "The correct answer would have been no," he deadpanned. "Why the hell would you ask someone to do that?"

"Well, Red, there's this thing you should know about my girl. I know she seems all cute and innocent at first, but she's actually the biggest slut I've ever met."

"Okay, TMI," Matt complained. Naturally, Frank ignored him. They began walking again, talking more about Frank's secret girlfriend.

"I'm telling you, man, she's perfect," he bragged. The night we met, I found her blowing some guy behind a bar."

Matt had to admit, that was a little amusing. "And what?" he asked, "you just went up to them and started hitting on her?"

"Not exactly," Frank laughed. "I was just walking home, and the guy she was with thought I said somethin' to him or some shit, 'cause he came over to me and started tryin' to pick a fight, right? Well, anyway, I knocked him out cold. Save the lecture, he was a dick wad and he wasn't even that drunk. But this girl, she thought it was hot, can you believe that? So, she starts hitting on me, saying I look strong and dangerous, 'cause apparently she's into that. She kept asking me to take her back to my place, and she was obviously hammered, so I did, just to keep her safe, you know? Almost immediately, she passes out on my bed, too tired to even try to fuck me anymore. Luckily, when she woke up, she remembered everything that happened, and I gave her my number in case she ever needed me to punch somebody else for her."

"And did she?" Matt prompted. He didn't actually care that much, but it was a decent story and it was definitely helping him keep his mind off his injuries.

"Yeah, two days later," Frank grinned. "She wasn't calling for a bodyguard, though. When I picked up, she told me she hadn't been able to stop thinking about me and was wondering if we could talk for a while so she could 'satisfy her curiosity'."

"She sounds very forward."

"You've got no idea. She's absolutely shameless, especially when she's drunk. You know, when she called me, she spent the whole conversation trying to pretend like she wasn't getting herself off."

"Wait, what?!"

"So, I had to sit there for an hour and listen to her try not to moan, and she's usually pretty good at staying quiet, but sometimes she gets so fuckin' wet that she just can't."

"That's disturbing," Matt lied, and was once again ignored.

"It's real easy for her to cover up the noises coming from her mouth, right? But the other ones. . . not so much. So, the whole time, I was just on my couch talking to her, and I was going absolutely insane 'cause I could hear what she was doing. After a little while, I just snapped and I told her if she wanted to hear my voice that badly, she could come over and I'd help her out."

"And?. . ."

"And she did."

"You slept with her the second time you met?"

"Yep. And the third, and the forth. . . probably the first eight times we got together. I mean, we were just goin' at it like every single night. It was amazing. She's so fuckin' tight, like tighter than most virgins. And she's damn good with her mouth. Like, the first time she sucked me off I almost saw your God. I don't think there's a single thing she can't do. Not much she won't do either."

"Really, dude. Stop."

"Whatever, man. I realized I actually liked her when she spent a full weekend at my place. We went out for lunch and played cards and watched a movie. She was just so smart and funny and I couldn't stand the thought of her leaving," Frank reminisced.

"So, is that when you asked her out?"

"No, that was when I asked her to move in with me."

Matt didn't even know where to start unpacking that. Before he could say anything, Frank stopped walking in front of a tall staircase behind a brick building.

"This is me," he announced.

"Hold on, you still haven't answered my question," Matt reminded him. "Why did you ask her to sleep with someone else?"

"Oh, yeah," Frank mused. "About a month ago, I went out for drinks with this old friend of mine, and was going on and on about how he hadn't gotten laid since his divorce. He seemed about her type, so I took him back to our place and had her take care of him for me."

"And she did it, just like that?"

"I told you she was great, didn't I?" Frank beamed.

"And neither of you cared?" That was something Matt was having trouble comprehending. He'd always been pretty possessive in his relationships, and the thought of sharing his partner was completely foreign to him.

"I am not a selfish man, Red. Anyone who dies without experiencing that pussy has never truly lived."

"Good to know."

Frank leaned casually against the wall behind him, crossing his arms over his chest.

"So, uh. . . you interested?"

It look Matt a moment to process what he was being asked, and when he did, he didn't know how to feel. On the one hand, he didn't want to take any more help from Frank, especially not for something like this. He didn't want to come between a happy couple, either, even by invite. On the other hand, it had been a while, and the girl that had been described to him sounded remarkably satisfying. He began to realize that Frank was right: He seriously needed to get laid.

Frank decided Matt had been thinking a little too long.

"Do you like eating pussy?"

Matt was startled out of his inner turmoil. "You can't just fucking ask someone that," he hissed.

"Why not? You seem like you would," Frank stated nonchalantly.

"Fine. Yes, I do."

"Good. I'm tellin' you right now, there ain't a woman in all of New York that tastes sweeter than my baby. You get between her legs, you come out knowing things you didn't think were possible, swear to God."

"I find that hard to believe," Matt scoffed.

"I mean it. I could spend hours down there. I did once, actually, 'till we both passed out. . . But I guess you'll just have to find out for yourself, won't you? Come on, man. You really need this."

"I don't know, it just doesn't sound like such a good idea."

Frank rolled his eyes. "We're all adults, we can have a little fun. If you want, you can come up to get your dick sucked and then head home. It doesn't have to be a big thing."

"You seem very adamant about this," Matt noted.

"Well, I do aim to please," Frank quipped. "I'm talking about you and her. I think my girl would have a lot of fun with you."

"What makes you say that?"

"You're pretty easy on the eyes, you know. Also, she seems to have a thing for jaded middle-aged vigilantes. So, what do you say? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Murdock."

Matt sighed, and reached up to rub the back of his neck. For the life of him, he couldn't seem to remember any of his reasons for saying no.

"Alright," he decided.

Frank's face broke into a wolfish grin, and he began ascending the staircase towards the window at the very top of the building. Matt followed close behind him, wincing at the pain in his sides as he climbed. When the two men got to the top, Frank knocked four times at the glass.

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You had just finished changing into one of Frank's old t-shirts when you heard the familiar rattling of the window pane. You dried your hands on the bathroom towel and smiled as you went to let your boyfriend back inside.

Using that word was strange to you, but still it made you giddy with excitement. You never thought you would meet someone wonderful enough to settle down with, but finally you had. Frank was the most perfect man you'd ever known. He understood you in ways no one else could, and with him, you were satisfied. That was a miracle in and of itself.

You slid open the creaky window with a hard push, and watched as Frank hopped through it with a gracefulness that contrasted sharply with his bulky exterior. He seemed completely unharmed, as per usual, but you had still been worried about him. There was always that small chance he would come home covered in his own blood and full of broken bones. You were about to tear into him for not leaving a note when you noticed the red figure slipping in behind him.

"Hey, sweetheart, you remember me telling you about Matt, don't you?" Frank asked, cradling your face in his hands and giving you a sweet hello kiss.

"Is this him?" you responded, giving the new arrival a once-over.

"Yeah, this is him. Hey, Red, why don't you introduce yourself."

Matt stepped up to you and offered his hand for you to shake.

"Hi, I'm Matt. Frank's already told me all about you," he said cheerfully, almost like he knew something you didn't.

Frank stepped up behind you, resting his hand on your lower back and leaning in to tell you something.

"If you're up for it, I'm gonna need you to do me a favor, alright?" he mumbled. You could tell Matt heard everything. You remembered what Frank had told you about him and his unique talents.

You turned towards Frank, sliding your hands under his jacket and leaning in close.

"By that, do you mean you're gonna need me to do him a favor?" you wondered. Frank tucked your hair behind your ear and twirled it idly around his fingers.

"He's pretty high strung right now. I figured he might need a little somethin' special to relax."

"I'm perfectly capable of getting laid on my own, Frank," Matt butted in. Frank ignored him.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look today?"

You laughed. "Yes, about twelve times this morning. You don't need to flatter me, I'll do it."

"You're amazing," Frank marveled, giving you another chaste kiss before turning to address Matt.

"How about you start by taking that stupid helmet off. Let my baby see what she's working with."

A small thrill ran through you when you heard Frank address you as his. You watched as Matt pulled his mask off, revealing the rest of his face. He looked a little nervous but you couldn't see why. He was absolutely gorgeous. His messy hair from the suit only added to the effects of his boyish charm. You noticed he did look rather tired, but that did nothing to dull his handsome features. You could tell you were gonna have a lot of fun with this one.

"He's even prettier than you," you joked.

Frank swatted you lightly on the ass and pushed you in Matt's direction. "Watch it," he growled playfully.

You stalked over to Matt and kissed him lightly on the cheek before pulling him over to the couch.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" you asked gently.

Matt swallowed thickly, trying to adjust to his situation. "Yeah, I'm okay," he responded. You hoped he'd settle in soon. There was something about him that told you he could be a lot of fun when he warmed up. Then again, that was what you were there for.

"What do you want?"

"I'm not exactly sure. Really, I can just go if-"

"No!" you interrupted. "I don't want you to go, I want to make you feel better. I'm okay with whatever you want, promise."

Matt seemed to be struggling to come up with what to say. Honestly, you were feeling a little nervous too, even though there was no reason to be. Suddenly, you realized what the issue was.

"Hey, Frank?" you called out. He came over to the two of you holding a couple of beers in one hand. He passed one to Matt, who accepted it gratefully.

You waited until he was next to you before admitting your problem to him. "I think we feel a little weird because we don't have any rules. Could you maybe. . . tell us what to do?" you asked.

Frank nodded, sitting down in the ratty old armchair next to the couch.

"Why don't you ask me what you wanna do with him, and I'll give you the go-ahead. Sound good, baby?"

You looked over at Matt who seemed to have relaxed some. You definitely found the source of the problem. All you needed was permission.

"Can I kiss him?" you asked.

Frank's eyes were sparkling with his newfound control. "You can kiss him all you want, sugar."

You slid closer to Matt, turning his head towards yours. "Stop me if you get uncomfortable," you whispered, and then leaned in to press your lips to his. Matt groaned and immediately deepened the kiss, eagerly exploring your mouth with his tongue. It was obvious now how much he needed this.

He tasted good in a way you couldn't explain, and you didn't want to pull away until you'd figured out what it was. You could feel the throbbing in your core picking up with every passing moment. Your breath caught when you felt Matt reach up to run his fingers through your hair. Wanting to move things along, you climbed into his lap so you could be pressed against him, chest-to-chest.

"Pull her hair. She likes that," Frank suggested.

Matt complied, tugging gently, then harder when he felt you shiver against him. Leave it to Frank to know exactly what you want and when you want it. You pulled back from the kiss to look at your moderator, rolling your hips hesitantly to gauge his reaction. He nodded, and you watched him palm himself roughly through his pants. That was all the encouragement you needed.

Returning to the kiss, you began grinding down hard against him, hoping that he could feel your movements through his thick suit. Matt reacted in a way that showed you he certainly could, gasping and grabbing onto your hips to push up against you. You moaned when one particularly hard thrust allowed you to feel the outline of his cock through your clothes.

"Oh, what the fuck," you breathed, pulling away from the kiss in shock. There was no way in hell he was that big. You settled your weight fully on his lap, gently rocking back in forth to feel more of him. You had to make sure that you weren't just imagining things. You weren't. He was absolutely fucking huge. You weren't sure how he was supposed to fit inside you, but dammit if you weren't excited to find out.

Matt seemed amused by your reaction to your recent discovery. He could smell the sudden increase in your arousal that accompanied the feeling of you getting wetter. You felt his hands tighten on your hips, holding you still as he grinded up against you. Every thrust was deep and dirty, inciting the growing heartbeat between your legs. It felt like he was showing off, or using his knowledge of a secret you had to tease you.

"Feel something you like, baby?" Frank asked from the sidelines.

"Uh-huh," You responded inattentively. You were too focused on the feeling of Matt's bulge rubbing against you to say much more than that.

"Why don't you head on down to the bedroom, alright sweetheart? We'll meet you there in a minute," Frank urged.

Reluctantly, Matt released you and you wandered down the hall to wait for the two men to come join you.

Frank waited for you to be out of earshot before moving to the couch next to Matt. They sat for a second, sipping at their drinks before Frank spoke.

"I know you have a fuck ton of ideas about how you should treat a woman, but I'm gonna need you to forget that shit before I take you back there, okay? I'm doing this for you, but if you don't make this good for her, I will kick you out, got it? She's not interested in your kindness tonight. She wants you to treat her like an object. Like a dumb whore you're just using to get off. I know you've got a dark side in there somewhere, Red. I need you to tell me right now if you think you can use it."

Matt never expected that to be something that would intrigue him. It had always seemed so cruel and taboo. . . but if it was what you wanted. . .

"I can."

"Good." Frank stood up and began walking towards the bedroom. After a few steps, he remembered something and turned back around. "Also, what the hell, man? I'm not letting you fuck her without stretching her out first. I know I said you could hurt her, but I don't want you to make her bleed."

When they made it to the bedroom, they found you laying back against the pillows, gently teasing your clit through your panties. When they came through the doorway, you pulled your hand away, looking up at Frank shyly. He raised an eyebrow at you, scoffing at your innocent expression.

"You couldn't wait two minutes?" He sighed. "I'm not gonna embarrass you in front of our guest, baby, but next time you might not be so lucky."

"I'm sorry," you whined.

"No you're not." Frank came around the bed to sit next to you and directed Matt to sit down on your other side. "I think it's about time to take this off, what do you think?" Frank asked, tugging on the hem of your (his) shirt. You nodded, and he pulled it over your head, leaving you completely naked save for your soft cotton panties.

"What do you want right now, baby? His mouth or his fingers?" Frank offered, turning your head towards him. You were a little confused that those were your only options. Weren't you supposed to be making Matt feel good? Confusion aside, you still couldn't choose. They both sounded very appealing.

"Damn, Red. You must've done a good job back there. She's already having trouble thinking," he teased, flicking you gently on the forehead. "Why don't you use both?" he suggested.

Matt smiled, beginning to understand how Frank expected him to treat you. "If she's all fuzzy from a little kiss, are you sure she'd be able to handle both?"

"I guess we'll just have to find out, won't we?"

You weren't sure what it was, but when Frank talked about you like you weren't there, a combination of arousal and safety washed over you. It always seemed to put you in a different headspace.

Matt climbed on top of you, finding your lips again as he slid your underwear down past your knees for you to kick off. He pulled your legs apart and began tracing your folds gently with his fingertips. Every touch was a completely new sensation. Matt was experimenting, figuring out where you were most sensitive, which motions you preferred and how hard he had to rub your clit to make you whimper.

He circled his fingers around your entrance, dipping into you just enough to feel you pulse and tighten around him, trying to pull him deeper. Right before you started begging, he pushed two of his fingers all the way in, curling them to explore your soft walls. It didn't take long for you to gasp and melt into the pillows as he brushed against your sweet spot. You hid your face in his neck, whining as he assaulted it over and over while bringing his thumb up to massage your clit.

Frank shushed you gently from his spot on the bed, reaching over to stroke your hair as you shook from the intense stimulation. You felt yourself dripping down Matt's fingers, and you could hear the wet sounds you were making as he fucked them in and out of your tight heat.

He pulled you right up to the edge before you heard Frank tell him to stop.

"Not yet," he muttered. "She'll get worn out after the third one, so you should probably make 'em count."

You huffed as Matt pulled his fingers out, earning you a proud and dangerous smirk. He gave you another sweet kiss as an apology.

"Sorry, angel. I don't make the rules," he reminded you.

Any disappointment you felt was soon replaced by the image of Matt sliding down the bed to get between your legs and pull them over his shoulders. Almost as an afterthought, he brought his hand up to his mouth to taste the palm you had drenched. As soon as his tongue touched his skin, you saw a muscle in his jaw twitch. His eyes darkened to look almost predatory, and he tightened his grip on your thighs. He glanced in Frank's direction, silently begging for his permission to proceed.

You didn't see Frank's approval, but you knew exactly when Matt got it because he dove into your cunt like it was a fucking desert oasis. In a lot of ways, it was. He wasted no time with teasing, instead shoving his tongue inside of you as deep as he could get it. Your vision went blurry as your eyes rolled back in your head. Grasping desperately at his hair, you pulled him harder against you until you were worried you would hurt him, but he barely seemed to notice.

He drew his tongue out to give your soaked pussy a few hungry licks, drinking up everything that dripped out of you. The wet noises he created with every suck or swipe of his tongue were enough to have your face flushed with embarrassment and excitement.

Feeling ignored, Frank grabbed your jaw, pulling you into a fervent kiss. He dislodged one of your hands from Matt's hair, guiding it over to rub at his clothed erection. You squeezed him through his pants, humming happily when you felt him twitch and grind up into your palm. Deftly, you undid his button and zipper, tugging his pants down just enough to slip your fingers under the waistband of his underwear. You didn't do anything else until he said it was okay.

"You want it, baby?" he murmured against your lips. You nodded, pushing your hand farther in, but you just barely managed to brush against it before he grabbed your wrist. He broke the kiss to look you in the eye, moving his hand from your jaw to gently hold your neck.

"You gotta use your words, sweetheart. You know that," he crooned.

"Please, can I touch it?" you sighed, moaning when Matt started stroking your clit again. Frank used his grip on your wrist to pull your hand deeper in until you could firmly grab his aching cock. You began tugging it slowly as it pulsed and hardened further in your grasp. You swiped the pad of your thumb over his slit and felt him drip onto your fingers, easing the glide of your palm.

You felt yourself getting close again when Matt stuffed his fingers back inside you and sucked hard at your clit. This time, no one stopped you from falling over the edge. You sobbed as your release rushed through you, tightening your thighs around Matt's head and your hand around Frank's cock. Matt groaned against you, savoring the scent and the taste of your satisfaction. Frank hissed at the added pressure, thrusting up into your fist which was slick with his precum.

The two men reluctantly pulled away from you as you came down from your high, giving you time to catch your breath. They returned to their positions on either side of you, stroking your hair or your shoulders as you refocused on reality.

"You were right," Matt announced, breathing almost as heavily as you were.

Frank smirked, looking over you to assess Matt's disheveled state. "Yeah? 'Bout what, exactly?" he asked.

"Everything," He admitted dreamily. To anyone who didn't know the effect you had on fortunate men, he might seem drunk or high. You supposed he kinda was.

"You were talking about me?" you whispered, hiding your face in Frank's neck. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him.

"I was just braggin' about how good you are, baby," he promised.

Matt laughed quietly at Frank's statement like it was an inside joke no one else would understand.

"He said a lot more than that," Matt disclosed to you. "He said you were the biggest slut he'd ever met. Honestly, he would not shut up about how tight you were, or how good you tasted. I thought he was exaggerating, but I think you just proved me wrong."

You smiled into Frank's shoulder, enjoying the attention. He tapped you lightly on the hip to get you to focus on him.

"I believe you were just given a compliment," he signaled.

Taking the hint, you rolled over to face Matt, angling his face towards you to give him a soft kiss as a thank you.

You looked down to where he was straining against the fabric of his suit. A small wet spot was becoming more visible at the tip of his swollen bulge. You caught yourself before you stared for too long, worried you might start salivating if you let your mind wander far enough.

"That looks uncomfortable," you pointed out. "You should probably take it off before it starts hurting you."

Matt agreed, standing up beside the bed to start stripping off his clothes. If he were dressed normally, you would offer to help, but you didn't even know where to begin with that thing.

"I'm sure she wants to return the favor," Frank advised Matt. "I'll go ahead get her stretched out while you use her mouth, alright?"

When Matt was in just his boxers, you tugged him back down to take your spot in the middle and climbed on top of him. Frank had stood up to finish taking off his own clothes, and when he was done, he kneeled behind you on the bed to get you in the right position.

You found yourself face-to-face with Matt's thinly veiled hard-on and your ass up high for Frank to take you from behind. He slid three of his fingers inside you, pumping them in and out a few times to see how relaxed you already were. As soon as you had freed Matt from his final barricade, Frank pulled his fingers out and shoved his cock inside you in one smooth thrust. You moaned loudly at the sudden intrusion, wincing at the stretch but enjoying it nonetheless. Frank gave you a moment to gather your bearings before he began to move.

"Focus on him, baby. He's the one you're supposed to be paying attention to," Frank directed. That was easier said than done when you were being relentlessly fucked from behind, but you had been wanting to get your mouth on him for a while now, and you weren't gonna pass up the opportunity.

Now that you were seeing him in person, Matt's size was almost intimidating. You were glad Frank took it upon himself to stretch you out first, because you were sure you'd be feeling it in your stomach when it was time to switch. His head looked tight and angry, and you watched as a small bead of clear fluid welled out of the tip and ran down the side. You leaned in to catch it with your tongue, whining softly at the taste.

"There you go, sweetheart," Frank praised.

You licked a long stripe up the underside, stopping when you got to the top to suckle gently at the head. You wrapped your hand around the base to stroke him firmly as you focused on taking the first few inches comfortably. It was already stretching your mouth quite a bit and your jaw was aching from trying to force yourself down on it. Before long, your spit was dripping onto your fingers and sliding down to settle at the base, creating slick sounds as you tugged at his length.

You moaned around him when Frank gave a particularly pointed thrust, nailing your spot dead-on. Provoked by your reaction, he repeated the same motion until your eyes rolled back in your head and you could no longer focus on the task at hand.

"Come on, pretty girl. You can take more than that," Frank fussed. "If you want his help, you can ask for it. Don't be shy, baby."

You were reluctant to ask because you wanted to prove yourself to Matt, but you didn't think you would be able to take more on your own. Usually, you were pretty good relaxing your throat, but there was no way you could swallow even half of him without choking. If you wanted to make him feel good, you would need him to take over and force you to blow as much of him as he wanted.

You pulled off of his cock teasingly, hollowing out your cheeks on the way up and swirling your tongue around the tip. You gave it one more little kiss before resuming your strokes, looking up at him to see which motions garnered the best reactions.

"Please," you whined, using your other hand to guide his to your hair.

"Please what, sweet girl?" Matt asked, petting you gently where you placed his hand. You swallowed your pride, giving in completely to both of them. You no longer had anything to prove. You were ready to be used however they saw fit, not caring about anything except making them feel good.

"Please, fuck my mouth."

"Aww, is it too big for you?" Matt consoled, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "Do you need my help, angel? You're already being fucked on one end, is that not enough?" he mocked, tightening his grip on your hair.

He knocked your hand away from his cock, replacing it with his own so he could rub it across your lips. You opened your mouth for him, and he slowly pulled your head down, forcing you to take him in until you choked. He held you there for a moment, groaning and thrusting up into the wet heat of your mouth before letting you take a breath. He continued like that for a while, guiding your head up and down, forcing you to go deeper each time until you couldn't take anymore.

Behind you, Frank wedged a finger in beside his cock, grunting at the added friction. You gasped at the new stretch, your release slamming into you unexpectedly. You arched your back and pushed into the feeling as he deftly attacked your sweet spot. Frank grinned at your reaction, smacking your ass once to watch you jump and hear your muffled yelp.

"I'm just tryin' to get you loosened up. I didn't mean for you to like it that much, you slut," he teased affectionately. He slipped in another finger, curling them to tug gently at your entrance until he felt that you were ready.

He took his fingers away, giving you a few more hard thrusts before he slid his cock out too, leaving you completely empty. He left a sweet kiss at the base of your spine, letting you know you had done a good job, and moved around you to talk to Matt.

"She's ready for you, if you're interested," Frank informed cockily. He watched how Matt was thoroughly fucking your mouth, hitting the back of your throat with every thrust, pulling you down to meet him half-way. You were doing much better than Frank had expected you to. It looked like your mind was somewhere far away, and you were just letting Matt use your mouth as a cocksleeve.

He started slowing down his movements, letting you up further and further, until you were back to just sucking at his head while he gently stroked your cheek with his thumb. Finally, he pulled you off of him with a soft, wet pop, edging out from under you so he could switch places with Frank. You whined at your sudden emptiness, burying your face in Frank's stomach as he took Matt's vacant spot.

"Is she always this desperate?" Matt asked, replacing Frank behind you. Frank laughed, caressing your head softly as you began mouthing and licking at his abs.

"Pretty much. Actually, she's doing better than she usually is. I think she's just upset that she didn't get you to finish."

"Really? She likes that part?"

"Oh, she loves it. Some days, she even asks me to pull out so I can come in her mouth. Ain't that right, baby?"

You nodded into his hip, sucking a dark bruise into his v-line.

"Why don't you go ahead and finish me off," Frank suggested to you. "I'm sure it'll make you feel better."

He grabbed himself around the base, enticingly pressing the wet head against the seam of your lips. Without hesitation, you took him into your mouth and swallowed him all the way down. You moaned lowly, purring at the feeling of being able to take him comfortably down your throat. He wasn't small by any means, but he was more familiar and significantly less jaw-breaking that Matt.

"Fuck, baby," Frank groaned, tugging at your hair. You were content just to stay like that for a while, holding his heavy length on your tongue and feeling him subtly grind his tip against the back of your throat. With your head still, you could feel every little twitch and taste yourself in every drop that leaked down your throat.

"You wanna move at all?" Frank asked, his muscles tight with restraint. In response, you nuzzled your nose against his skin, swallowing around him in the hopes that he'd let you stay there.

"No? You just like having your sweet little holes filled, huh? That's fine, sugar. You don't have to move an inch, but I'm gonna need more than that if you wanna make me come. Do you wanna make me come, baby?"

You hummed your assent, the vibrations sending a shiver up Frank's spine.

"Then suck," he commanded, and you obeyed. You used as much suction as you could manage, creating a satisfying friction without all the typical motions. You teased the underside of his cock with the flat of your tongue, listening to his quiet grunts as you drew him closer to the edge.

Behind you, Matt was listening to the sound of your wet cunt dripping onto the bedsheets. He kneaded your ass and thighs in his hands, ensuring that you were fully relaxed before trying to fuck you. Soon, he was nestling his cock between your soaked folds, lining himself up with your tight entrance.

He rubbed the small of your back as he began pushing himself in. He was met with an alarming amount of resistance, and he didn't even get the first inch in before you were clenching down around him and letting out a pained whimper. He pulled back, afraid he would tear something if he carried on.

"Frank, it's not gonna fit," Matt told him. Frank huffed, too busy chasing his own pleasure to think about problem-solving.

"It'll fit, just keep going," he reassured. "She likes the stretch. Hurry up and fuck her already."

"If I tried, I would break her," Matt warned. "Why don't we test out a different position?"

"Fine. Hang on for just a second."

Frank tightened his grip on your hair, whispering a quick apology before pulling you halfway off of him. He gave you no warning before he was slamming back in, forcing a surprised squeak out of your chest as he ruthlessly fucked your mouth. Barely a minute passed before Frank's thrusts grew sloppy and more desperate. His cock pulsed wildly against your tongue, and he let out a guttural groan as he came hard down your throat. You eagerly swallowed every drop that spilled out of him, waiting for him to soften a bit before releasing him from your mouth. Laving sweetly at the sides, you cleaned him up as best you could before he pushed your head away from oversensitivity.

"Alright," Frank mumbled, scooting over so you could take his spot in the middle. "On your back, baby."

You flipped over to face Matt, opening your legs so he could settle in between them.

"Pretty slut," he commended, leaning in to kiss you as he lined up with your needy hole once more. "We're gonna make it fit, alright? Don't you worry your cute little head about it."

As soon as the words left his mouth, he began pushing his hips towards yours, his thick cockhead stretching you out obscenely. You winced at the pain, trying to force yourself to relax, but it wasn't working. Matt grunted at the vice grip you had on him, but he didn't advance further until he felt you could handle more.

From beside you, Frank played with your hair and kissed your neck in all your favorite spots until he had taken your mind off the pain. When Matt felt you unclench, he gave you another inch, once again stopping to allow you time to adjust. He continued on like that for a while, feeding his cock into your pussy in small increments until he was completely buried inside you.

As soon as the pain subsided, feeling something that deep was absolutely incredible. You felt yourself get wetter when you realized you could just barely make out the outline of his length poking through your tummy. It was evident to both of you from the very start that this wasn't gonna last long.

"Holy shit, you're squeezing me so tight," Matt groaned, starting a series of very shallow thrusts to get you used to the feeling. "This is what you were made for, sweetheart. You feel so fuckin' good," he praised. Slowly, he began picking up speed, fucking you harder and deeper like he couldn't control it anymore. You felt so full, you figured it was a miracle that he was even able to get half-way in. You couldn't stop the noises that Matt punched out of you with every heightened thrust. Because of his immense size, there was never a moment when he wasn't rubbing directly against your most sensitive areas.

Matt could sense that you were getting close, and he knew he wouldn't be far behind you. He started snapping his hips into yours impossibly harder, spurred on by the prospect of your impending release.

"You gonna come on my cock, angel? It's okay, you can come," Matt encouraged. He heard you cry out and smelled the sudden spike in your arousal. He knew he had you right on the edge. "Come for me sweetheart," he breathed.

You almost screamed as you came, your body arching up off the bed, every muscle tightening and trembling as your pleasure coursed through them. Matt cursed at the feeling of your walls clenching and fluttering around him. He let out a subdued moan as he fucked into you three more times before coming deep inside you. You felt the comforting warmth dripping down your thighs when he slipped out and collapsed on the bed beside you.

When you came down from your high, the night's exertion finally caught up with you. You cuddled into Frank's chest, and he pulled you closer, murmuring to you about how good you were for them. Matt slotted his body into place behind yours, leaving kisses on the back of your neck and stroking your side gently.

"Thank you," he whispered, and before you could respond, he was already asleep. You were about to follow suit, but a thought popped into your head, keeping you awake.

"Is this gonna be a one-time-thing?" you asked Frank, opening your eyes to see his face. He didn't seem surprised by your question. Honestly, he seemed like he'd been expecting it.

"It doesn't have to be," he responded. "If he's ever up for it again, I'd be fine with it."

You nodded, closing your eyes again and starting to drift off to sleep. You passed out in less than a minute, but not before you heard Frank say something that, in the morning, you thought must have been a dream. Nevertheless, it was nice to pretend it was real.

"I love you, baby."

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[amysgiantbees]

I LOVE Wyll and I understand why they did the rewrites I think he's a wonderful character and wouldn't dream to trade him for his EA counterpart. However, since they chose to rewrite him the lack of material does a disservice to his character.

I love Gale and Astarion and would not change their stories for the world but they aren't really integral to the main plot. Wyll is though and yet Astarion especially has SO much dialogue he comments on EVERYTHING and Wyll barely has anything to say even on the stuff that's important to him, like Gortash's coronation.

It's just so heart braking that Theo, his voice actor, is so passionate about and loved doing his romance scenes so much but Wyll has the least amount of hours dedicated to it.

Scenes I would have liked:

Wyll talking to a child or an innocent post Karlach and he either gets hugged and gets to be surprised that people still see him as heroic. Or he's a bit too smug about it if he killed Karlach.

Wyll meeting up with a member of the flaming fist he used to know in Act 3- maybe they were trainees together when they were teens - and getting to talk about the old days like Karlach and her friend.

Wyll getting to be really surprised Florrick still wants his help in Moonrise after he's been transformed and she puts 2 and 2 together at his reaction and asks if this is why he left Balder's Gate and he tells her that his father asked him to leave. Florrick says that's BS and can become a pseudo parental figure.

The companions dialogue reaction to him braking his pact is fixed so everyone is more like how they react to Shadowheart killing her parents and aren't instead jumping down his throat like he's a power hungry maniac. It's clearly leftovers from EA Wyll when he was more power hungry but it throws his whole character off because clearly this version doesn't struggle with selflessness, he is nothing but! He needs to put himself first over his shitty dad for once in his life. Like the only one I even kind of like is Halsin's dialogue about how a plant sometimes need to strangle a tree to find it's own light. I'm wondering if that isn't something to do with Halsin being expanded upon later in development so it was easier to match it to the new Wyll. Like Wyll damning himself for eternity is satisfying if he's been selfish, but at present it's just him risking himself again and not even for someone we know yet (or *spoilers* someone useful like all the dragon tip does is give us a bit more info about the Emperor and give Wyll some confidence).

I think it's VERY bold of Ravengaurd to say he WILL make it up to Wyll. Not that he'll try but that he knows he can make it up to him. Despite throwing out the sweetest teen on earth even though he was clearly trying to tell him something. Despite likely hearing about the Blade of Fronteir's exploits and never reaching out. Even after being rescued by him to just be still so full of bitterness and hatred. Despite all his failings as a father and always putting his reputation and Baulder's Gate above his son he really thinks it'll all be water under the bridge soon. So, I would like it if your TAV was able to challenge this assumption.

I would like it rewritten so Wyll actually has it out with his Dad instead of tadpoling him what has happened post rescue. Let them actually talk finally. Wyll lacks so much agency and could really use a dramatic moment like everyone else get's in Act 3 to shine.

I would love if your approval is high enough or you're romancing him for you to be able to see his walls come down once. I think it would be so powerful if after this whole journey he's been so composed and careful and then whatever happens with the contract in Act 3 he lets you see how he really feels for once. Like you still have your talk and he's all composed and tells you he just needs some time. However, later that night when you've gone for a long rest you catch him on the roof of the Elfsong or something. He could be crying, or praying to Tyr to save his father, or screaming, summoning dark tendrils of magic and yelling about how he resents his power.

Also Florrick should not show up if you break the contract unless the Duke is dead. It screws up Mizora's dialogue and brakes it a bit. Like if Florrick didn't show up till after you killed Orin that would probably work because if you kill Orin first you probably aren't going to kill Gortash or go down to the Iron Throne. Or at least give it a long rest or two before she shows up.

There's also just dialogue that does not fit that's leftovers from EA I believe. Like after braking the pact TAV being able to tell Wyll he shouldn't be a duke because he's too power hungry. Or even the companion dialogue where Wyll is a bit of a playboy and flirts with Lazel and then Shadowheart immediately afterwards - it totally goes against his hopeless romantic nature. Not that I want them to take even more content away from him.

[ghostflowerhotpotch]

Ghosftflower: The Artbook Cut

Okay guys, sorry for not doing much lately, holidays aside my laptop died so I am using something else in the meantime, so I had been a tad busy lately.

That being said, the Art Book arrived today! There wasn't a lot of ghostflower sadly, but I wanted to bring something regardless, so let's dig in!

Honestly while I don't consider myself an expert on these types of book, I own a few, and this one is...strange to say the least.

The formatting is off in a few parts, some things that don't make sense with what we are told in the movies, sections of the art book that assume we saw something on the movie that we didn't- I may do a post about it because looking at this book somehow gave me more questions than answers.

But that's a story for another post, let's go!

(Sorry for the quality of the pics, my phone isn't the best and I am not a good photographer myself.)

This one is right at the end, as part of the decoration between the walls of the book and the pages itself; it shows the entire city, but I focused on them for obvious reasons.

Also because the ending shot of this particular scene is one of my favourites in all the movie and seeing it in it's concert art form means a lot to me.

These two were in between pages at the beginning, the text talks more about the general process on the movie than them, so not a lot we can say.

Still lovely, I honestly wish we had more of Gwen and Miles swinging across New York, there is something beautiful and enchanting not only in them moving around in a way only a spider-hero can do, but also almost like a dance between these two.

Not so much ghostfloweer, but I still liked this pic of them together in Hobie's world.

The book acts as if we were suppose to see this world so one of those crazy things about this art book is seeing the stuff that was in the movie before it was cut.

Honestly the making-of this movie would either be insane or extremely edited because this is nuts.

Oh ho ho, we are getting to the MEAT.

Okay, I don't read Scripts very often, but the times I had has been interesting, specially since a lot of times it can reveal some small gags that either got cut on the movie, or that things that were in plain sight that you didn't notice. DEFINITELY will be reading the Script for this movie once I get my hands on it.

In this pic, it shows a deleted joke, either this was going to be in the cut of the movie when the book was in development, or it was left there but was already planned on being scrapped.

What I like about this deleted dialogue is that it shows, once again, that Gwen isn't always at the top of her game. As cool as she can be, she is still a teen who hasn't figured everything out.

I honestly find her more endearing trying to stick the landing and failing that just being cool and collected all the time.

Sorry for the long box of text, wasn't sure where to cut. There are two parts in this I want to highlight.

"They're both trying to impress each other,"

I found this extremely cute because while Miles trying to keep up with her and impress her is obvious (Just like everything else with Miles, as a said, the boy wears his heart in his sleeve and we love him for it,) but to be honest I didn't think Gwen was trying to do the same.

Now I imagine Gwen looking around this New York and trying to see what she could do to impress Miles- I love these earnest dorks.

The awkward gazelle part is also pretty much present in the movie; however I do like the comparison on how Miles himself knows now more than ever what he is capable of, which really shows in the rest on the movie, including in the train chase scene.

(Not really Ghostflower, but I LOVE how Miles never doubt on himself despite what he heard, need to talk about that eventually.)

More art of this beautiful scene, which was sparkled around these notes.

There is not much I want to analyze here as much as to, emphasize it?

Analyzing this movie so much and so often has really gotten to appreciate it to a whole new level, even if during said process I was able to see more of the mistakes and issues underneath.

This scene is really this and more, and what is astonishing is that is not that they are capturing the essence of the scene in some words, but rather come with the concept and create said scene, which is a lot more complicated.

And yet they pulled it off beautifully.

I really liked to highlight this part because 1) I and everyone else may need to start paying close attention to lighting because wow that detail is extremely cool, and 2) It really highlights a whole new layer to this scene.

They are getting close, both physically and emotionally, yet all the things they hide, how they hide themselves in a way, gets in the way of what they truly want. Is amazing because is a struggle that in the details is very much Spiderman, but below it is so human. Which honestly, part of the reason Spiderman as a whole as become so beloved over the years.

(Side note: Stan Lee decided to make Peter Parker in a era where superheroes were adults who basically could do anything, so coming with a teen who would also had teen issues was something that got people calling Stan nuts. Crazy how things how it worked out I'm right?)

Different stages development of this scene because of course I needed to include this, even if i can't say much of it really.

Not much to say here, except that this brief goes beautifully with the next excerpt of the book that I enjoyed.

"At that moment, anything is possible for the two of them." Isn't all of this phrased so beautifully?

While not telling us anything new, I want to relish in this little bits that just makes the scene feel so much whole as you read this.

How both Gwen and Miles don't want this to end, to keep the warmth between them going, to just linger because neither of them want to let the other one go. Frozen in place unable to move forwards for thall the unsaid things, yet refusing to move back.

They are lovely.

And that's all I have for them sadly! This book was extremely odd, it was very much lacking a lot of Miles and Gwen (Which kind of tracks, art books go mostly about design and their design's haven't change much,) but the fact that most of this information was at the end, alongside other things, makes me curious about what the heck went down while making this.

Or other stuff because is not the first time we see the remnants of the other versions of this movie peaking by.

[auncyen]

pre-canon fic feels like a balancing act with Siffrin.

the Thing is. no one in the party figures out any of Siffrin's issues during months of traveling with them except for noting their infamously bad memory. Which gives the impression that Siffrin is pretty good at recovering or redirecting from other spotty moments. Also, the fact that the group is startled by Siffrin forgetting what they were talking about mid-conversation implies it's probably the first time that's happened and thus pretty rare.

Like Odile and Isabeau do seem to be aware Siffrin is not particularly good with feelings. Odile will note at the end that they should try letting down their walls more and Isabeau tries to rope them into feelings talks that never happen. But at the same time Odile notes she's not particularly good with feelings either and like. neither really give off the impression that pre-loop they thought Siffrin's reticence was particularly noteworthy? the "taciturn" dialogue especially paints this as something the group is aware of but in a very lighthearted, 'oh that's normal it's just a quirk of Siffrin's to tease about' way. His breathing exercise is noted, but never seems to cause any questions about why he does it regularly enough for them to notice (this might have been partially because Mirabelle herself has anxiety and Isabeau sounds like he probably has/had issues with it, though not as severely?)

So like. it's basically figuring out "how Concerning can Siffrin be while not making the rest of the party oblivious" lol.

[jamiesfootball]

29 for the whump dialogue prompt perhaps?

"Tell me where it hurts, and be specific."

He doesn't know how it went wrong so fast. He never fucking knows.

"Get him out! Get him out of here right the fuck now!"

He never knew how it was that his dad could ruin everything as quick as upending a box, shaking out the bits of Jamie - smacking the box for good measure to knock out all the stubbornly clinging fists - until he was nothing better than something his dad went and spilled on the floor. A fucking pile of Legos for people to dodge around less the sharp pieces of him prick the the soft padding beneath their feet.

"Everybody, shut up! Jamie, Jamie, bruv, breathe. Breathe. In and out like. Can you do that? Does it hurt?"

It felt like being underwater, it did; or like they were in an indoor pool. Sweat all dried until it was cold and clammy. Everything echoed, a public's worth of voices shouting to be heard over each other ("What did you hold me back for?!" "Me?! You were right there!") while the walls bounced everything back, and over the din came Colin's voice, both muffled and clear- "I heard something snap."

Dr. Sharon was going to be so disappointed with Jamie. Jamie was going to walk back into her office with the crumpled up portions of himself bundled in his arms, and she was going to frown, polite and quiet and judging while Jamie lined up all the pieces in front of her, trying to explain to her what he'd done wrong and begging her to show him how to make it better.

"Beard's got it from here. Him and the boys in security 'll figure it out. Now, how's our- is that blood?"

Because he was a coward, he'd serve the best parts of himself first. The chunk of him that hadn't meant to let any of it happen. The lump that understood how his presence on the pitch led to the team losing. The slice of him that had honestly, stupidly thought his Dad would be so caught up in his own team winning that Jamie's own garbage performance would go unnoticed (amateur thinking to go with amateur playing). The ration of him that hadn't been rational at all - had opened his mouth to argue when he knew better, didn't he, lad? Should know better by now. He hadn't been given the signal. Couldn't be trusted with his own words - had to wait for someone to tell him it was alright, otherwise look what he'd get?

"Tartt? Are you listening?"

He'd show Dr. Sharon the slab of him that wanted to do right by the team, and she'd tilt her head to the side and remark that the slab looked a bit spoiled now, didn't it?

Something brushes his shoulder, a touch so lacking in violence it doesn't register as real.

"Come on. Jamie. You need to let us get a look at you. We need to know where you're hurt."

He never fucking knows.

Something strong grips the back of his neck. There's nothing left of Jamie now; just bundles of raw nerve endings telling him run and hide and the dislocated parts of his body reporting back that they're not capable of either right now. His lungs aren't working right, and there's no running or hiding anymore - there's just smaller. Tugging close the pieces of himself - the broken tiles of himself - and sweeping them close in his arms where they're less likely to get shattered any further. There's retreating, dropping deep into the recess of his head, anything to spare himself from witnessing the ugly spectacle he's made.

The grip on his neck disregards what he wants. Cups the delicate space below his jaw between two hands. Examines him while Jamie flutters in his grasp like a moth avoiding the light.

"Jamie, this is serious. Tell me where it hurts, and be specific. We need to know if we need to get you to hospital."

Point to any piece of him, where his dad's gone and left him on the ground.

"Fuck it, he’s not answering. Somebody get the medics."

[carionto]

I just wanna know if it'll work!

The Monolith!

A massive perpendicular structure - 1 meter deep, 4 meters wide, 9 meters tall - with a perfect 81 centimeter diameter circle cut, with its center 64 centimeters from the top.

Naomi Glasnikova was grinning like mad. She couldn't figure out where to put squares of 4, 5, 6, or 7 in the design without overcomplicating things, so decided to just forego them. It'll be fine, she's sure everything will work out just as planned.

What is the plan, her fellow scientists from the Coalition species ask? To see if placing ominous black metal alloy structures around a planet with primitive lifeforms will make their brains go "Oh, this is different, I should... *think* about it. Yes. Thinking is a thing I can do now. Thus, with the power of thoughts I can look at other things and go "Oh, what if I did this!" and make myself evolve into a civilization (once I figure out how to come up with prerequisite concepts)."

Is the inner dialogue Naomi was having. Her colleagues, both Human and Alien alike, had long abandoned the idea of trying to talk to her about her projects. She would just get into this deep staredown with you while simultaneously not paying any attention to your existence. Her mind begins to race with the possibilities, the what ifs, who dunnits, why nots, etc., and after a few minutes of complete stillness she would suddenly rush out, writing furiously on her digi-pad, often bumping into chairs, tables, walls, other people, one time she almost vented herself from the station. They put a micro-tag on her pad that would wirelessly turn off nearby lights at any intersections that didn't lead to her office. She subconsciously veers toward bright lights.

This latest monolith project came about after one of her equally eccentric interns (nobody knows where they come from, she just seems to naturally attract ones with similar brainwaves or something) showed her an ancient fictional documentary about possible technological developments in the early 21st century. The image of this simpler monolith instantly embedded itself into her mind.

WAIT! I've got it! Four groups of monoliths arranged in different patterns. The group of 16 will make a perfect square. 25 a star. 36 a hexagon, and 49 a... hmm heptagon would be too similar, and it doesn't look right no matter how you shape it.... hrrnnn No wait, a seven layer circle! One in the center, fourteen in the outermost and the rest... I'll do the math later. The areas will need to be perfectly cleared and flat too. Oh! Line patterns on the ground itself. Ones that show core scientific truths! One of the primitives will surely one day follow the lines and map them out either in its brain or on a simple data recording apparatus and see Science! They'll be so stunned! Gotta write that down, get one of the helpful people (her interns, whose names or faces she doesn't even know, yet they don't care either. Look, it's weird, but their kind of non-relationship works out somehow) to begin production. They will need to be made of non-corrosive alloys, of course. Each with a different core metal though. But then the color might change. No paint, that is an unnecessary element. Hmm... Evolution will take millennia, hopefully a few less with my help.

Last month her focus was on making a fully transparent species of frogs to see whether they would go extinct due to being unable to see their partners, or overrun the ecosystem. Nobody has seen the results of that yet.

We also don't know what she's actually a PhD of. Her diploma just says applied robotics, and it is a legit diploma from the Henderson University of Greater Estonia. But her published thesis is on viral infection vectors in sub-tropical moths. We thought she might be a fraud, but the science checks out in whatever she has put out so far. Whatever she is, she is allowed to do whatever she wants. Like most scientists out on these stations now that I think about it.

What are we even doing here, other than... Science?

Mmmm, fuck it, unlimited funding. Let's go!

[striderepiphany]

My favorite reddie fics masterpost

I have an absolutely insane number of reddie fics saved in my bookmarks for how recently I joined this fandom so I decided to share my absolute favorites with you. Please give these authors some love and let me know which ones are you've read and enjoyed!

the year of the goat and your kid back by derryfacts2

1 chapter, 14,838 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: The day you get the most important email of your life, there’s a new black skidmark on the wall of the stairwell, and you know exactly whose fault it is. “Margaret,” you intone to the harried, wild-haired woman in the lobby. She sighs at you as she tries to jimmy her mail key loose. “I know.” It wouldn’t even be that bad if the kid would just skateboard outside. Or get good at skateboarding. Either of those things. Maggie’s a nice lady, though, and she’s had “trying my best” scribbled all over her since they moved into 6B maybe eight years ago. So you try not to be a dick, even if her son is a gold-standard pain in the ass. He’s good for three things: smells, noise, and reminding you how big Eddie must be by now.

The first It fic I read that made me go "holy shit, this is fantastic" and remains one of my all-timers (hence why its first in this list). Really fun and unique outsider POV from Eddie's estranged gay dad, and tells a very sweet story mostly through dialogue. Young adult Eddie and Richie are very cute.

i think the clock is slow by derryfacts2 (again)

3 chapters, 15,815 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: So there was that reason that work wasn’t boring, too. There was Richie’s soppy campaign of making cow eyes at the back of Eddie’s head as he passed, gently pressing Betty for details about his personal life (“I don’t think he has one. He had this awful fiancé a few years ago, but we’re all glad that’s over”), and chasing the incomparable high of a quiet, muttered “Thanks, Rich” whenever Richie picks something up for him from the copier.

Richie is a wannabe stand-up comic daylighting as the receptionist at Eddie's office. Eddie is a tightly-wound corporate asshole. They are both disasters. Or: five times Richie watched Eddie and one that Eddie watched him back.

I really enjoy workplace dramas and this one satisfied the itch so well. So many good scenes and dialogue, this author characterizes them in a way that really works for me. The perfect read-in-an-afternoon fic.

listen to my heart (can you hear it sing?) by vampirerising

12 chapters, 137,708 words, Major Character Death. Summary: "You need to wake up now,” Stan says softly. “This isn’t real.”

“I know, but I can’t,” Richie sobs. “I don’t want to be here.” Not again. Never again. It is dead, why is It still haunting him?

Stan fixes him with one of those looks of his, the one where he can see his every thought as if it were written on his face. “That’s not true, Trashmouth.”

Alternatively: We all know Richie gets caught in the Deadlights, but do we really know what happens after?

(Deadlights, timelines, Stan’s ghostly meddling—oh, my.)

This one is fucking weird in a way that I absolutely adore. Kind of like a sci-fi novel in that it requires you to pay attention to figure out what the fuck is going on but its so good and worth it. The MCD is Stan, not Eddie, and the last couple chapters are actually a very normal domestic Eddie lives AU. One of the first reddie artworks I made was fanart for a scene from this fic that I really enjoy.

a strange sense of familiarity by Katranga

21 chapters, 103,571 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: "So Eddie, what brings you to the bar tonight?" Richie asked. "Gonna rebound from the divorce? Pick up a hot young twenty-something to feel young again?” “Fuck you,” Eddie said, jutting his chin forward. “What a terrible way to ruin the mood.” “I’m sorry, all my moods are poorly cultivated. What mood were you looking for?” A nervous lump grew in Eddie's throat. He threw back his drink to get rid of it.

Hand wrapped around the glass he’d just slammed back onto the bar, he said, “The mood that gets me leaving with a schlubby forty-something.”

Pre-chapter two, Eddie and Richie meet and don't remember each other, but have an instant connection anyway...

This one is just... so fucking good. Decently long without ever feeling like it's dragging. Part 1 is them developing their totally-casual-I-swear relationship, which blows up right when Mike calls them back to Derry. Part 2 is them navigating both killing a nightmare clown demon and the awkwardness between them. Also everybody lives! So that's nice.

change partners by avacadomoon (with podfic available)

1 chapter, 30,453 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: "Rich," Eddie says heavily. Meaningfully, and Richie holds his breath, both afraid and hopeful that Eddie is about to say something really sappy, like I always knew and it didn't matter to me, or you know I support you no matter what. Eddie takes a deep breath before he speaks, and Richie closes his eyes, braced for it. "I didn't look at your dick pics."

"Well hey, Eds, thanks," Richie says, laughing incredulously. "Thanks for that."

I LOVE THIS ONE SOOO FUCKING MUCH. I urge you to consider this as a rec for this author as well, as they have a bunch of other reddie fics I think are fantastic. I have a weakness for any reddie fic that lets them be just a little mean to each other. As a treat. (Also the podfic is very well done, you should check that out too.)

check raise by avacodomoon

1 chapter, 15,061 words, No Archive Warnings Apply. Summary: "Eddie, not a fan of stand up comedy, not a fan of his beer," Rich says, leaning back on one elbow and squinting at him, like he's lining him up in a camera lens frame, "but what is he doing drinking alone?"

"I was alone, and now I'm not," Eddie says. "Some prick sat down next to me and started yapping."

"Ah, unpleasant to talk to," Rich concludes. "Explains a lot."

I know I meant the last rec as a blanket rec for all this author's works but I'm including this one specifically because it has a twist ending that is well-foreshadowed and it slapped my dick clean off.

Things that Happen after Eddie Lives by IfItHollers

11 chapters, 107,947 words, Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings. Summary: In a world where Richie manages to save Eddie from It after the deadlights, they still have problems on their to-do list. Featuring everything from Derry to Los Angeles—Richie Tozier's murder trial, Eddie Kaspbrak's divorce proceedings, bedsharing of the platonic and non-platonic varieties, an investigation of magic, a truly disgusting séance, the quintessential morosexual road trip, and OH MY GOD THEY WERE ROOMMATES.

Definitely NOT your average Eddie lives AU. Drama! Mild peril! Psychic abilities! The ghost of Stanley Uris collect calling from beyond the grave via Richie Tozier's vocal chords! Fun and freaky and weird. Three things that make any fic a Josh favorite.

I'm going to stop there because I'm sleepy but let me know if you want more! Like I said I've got like 70 of these lovingly tucked in my bookmarks and I'm happy to share with the class.

[rjalker]

[ID: a long 6-panel MS Paint comic, titled, "I read Charles Howard Hinton's An Episode of Flatland (dot dot dot) so you don't have to! (It's bad!)".

Panel 1 is labeled, "not even pretending to be to scale", and shows a circle in the center labeled "Astria", with the edge covered in stick figures who have both arms on one side of their body, either facing the west for females, or east for males, with a mars or venus symbol over each head to show who is what. The west side of Astria has a darker rim labeled, "Black Sea", and the east has one labeled "White Sea".

On the side of the panel is a cirlce mostly offscreen labeled, "Ardaea, another planet in their star system".

In the lower corner a larger circle labeled, "sun that either doesn't have a name or I forgot it. I have a headache I'm not putting in any more effort to find out if the sun has a name".

Panel 2 shows two sets of people represented by right triangles, with males facing east and females facing west again, with their back to eachother. First we have Unæans, who are light skinned. They are represented by white triangles. Then there are Scythians, who are dark skinned, represented by triangles filled in with black with a crayon texture. Smaller text reads for them, "used to oppress the Unæans because the author's racist".

Text reads, "Astrians are not literally triangles but are represented by them to show how they face only one direction. Despite only having one single eye each, the original illustrator drew them with two, one on each side. Because he didn't read the book I guess. I don't blame him. Unless it was the author, in which case…Man, seriously?".

Panel 3 shows a 2D stick figure looking to the west and saying, "Blank space!". A yellow splat in the middle of the screen reads in all caps, "Wrong!", then shows the stick figure being viewed from another angle so they, and their dialogue box, appear as nothing but a straight line against a light blue background, with a section of white on their Left labeled, "the alongside being - aka their name for any dimension beyond the perception of a lower-dimensional being".

Panel 4 reads in all caps large text at the top, "but what is the plot?!?!", then reads:

"The plot is that every 15 years winters get really cold and bad. But this time it's gonna be the end of the world. Because Ardaea is apparently gonna crash into Astria entirely. And is gonna plunge their planet into Death Winter. A rich guy named Cartwright starts building underground shelters packed with supplies to try and help people survive.

His brother is a guy named High Farmer and he believes in the 3rd Dimension and claims to be able to use it somehow to make himself float and all this crap which he literally never demonstrates.

Hugh teams up with a soldier named Harold Wall to try and convince people that the Third Dimension will somehow magically save them all. And you might be thinking, 'Oh! Because they're gonna ask for help from 3D beings, right?' Wrong.

No the plan is to literally create a dictatorship and force everyoen to pray that Ardaea doesn't crash into them.

And then this works. For some reason.

Despite none of Hugh Farmer's claims about being able to use T 3 D to fly ever being demonstrated. And then they're all talking about being able to use T 3 D to grow…extra eyes? And all this crap??? It's not reasonable.

And while all this is very much not going on, there's a crappy romance between Laura Cartwright, the daughter of the rich guy who was building shelters, and Harold Wall, the now-Dictator. She's the one who introduced him to Hugh Farmer, her uncle.

It's implied many times that they're soulmates. They miscommunicate a lot and also Harold is an asshole anyways.

Also early in the book there was a lady named Mrs. Castle who was implied to be a 3D being or at least friends with one. We were told we'd get this explained soon. Then she was never mentioned again.

But then the author was going on about 2D beings having 3D souls so that's. Apparently what he meant. He was a really bad writer."

Panel 5 is black with white text, reading:

"It was so boring and convoluted it was literally making me fall asleep.

So the moral of the story is set up a dictatorship to make people pray the world doesn't end and it simply won't. Because your soul is a tiny 4D thing piloting the mecha of your giant 3D body. also if you think about it really hard you can probably grow yourself an extra eye or something. Somehow. For some reason.

It's bad. 0/10 do not recommend."

Panel 6 is white with black text again, reading, "also literally every scene in the book after the Introduction is just physically impossible for these people to be doing with the rules he told us into the introduction. it's atrocious."

End ID.]

fortunately, it's public domain, so it's free to read, and you can rewrite it to not be absolutely terrible and mind-numbing and sell your version. the version we deserve.

[quigzahhutt]

12. for the hurt/comfort prompt asks my good sir 🕺🕺 🫡🫡 for whoever you please

this is such an interesting one! I had a hard time figuring out how to contextualize this in a way I found interesting but I think I've got it >:3

for the dialogue prompt ask game!

Prompt: "can you talk?"

Pairing: Lando Norris/Max Fewtrell

His knuckles meet the door with a hollow sound, the flimsy nature of these driver room doors means the sound echoes strangely around the small hallway.

"Lando, buddy, are you ok?" Max feels silly calling through the door like this; privacy was never a thing for them– it was always either burst in without warning, or shout something and then burst in. Establishing this level of hesitancy is completely out of character.

"I know you haven't been feeling well, mate, you're worrying me," he continues talking though the wall, ear pressed to the thin frame to try and pick up any signs of life in the room.

He leans in and almost falls flat on the floor as Lando swings the door open suddenly, causing him to tumble gracelessly into the small room.

After flicking Lando in the shoulder for almost killing him, Max realizes how truly awful he looks.

Where Lando's face isn't flushed, he's horribly pale, nearly green around the soft tissue surrounding his eyes. His brows are constantly pinched, mirroring the taut nature of his shoulders.

Max tries to reach for his shoulder, but Lando flinches away from him and that's when Max knows something is seriously wrong.

"Are you sore? Does your... is your skin achy?"

Lando just huffs at him; it's a humorous sound, kind of like he's making fun of Max, as if he's telling him "yeah, you muppet." He can practically hear it in his voice.

The silence is very unwelcome. Max is aware that Lando's throat has been real bad, but to the extent he isn't even making any noise at all? He can feel his brows furrow together.

"Can you talk?" Lando shakes his head, "At all?" Max stresses.

The look he gets in response is comical, crooked and dramatized, but it makes them both laugh; Lando huffs out an unimpressed sound, one that's accompanied by a harsh swallow before he crumples again.

A chronic grimace has made itself comfortable on Lando's face, and Max has to stop himself from reaching out instinctively; he would rather avoid a harsh smack on the shoulder today.

They sit in silence for a while, listening individually to the busy sounds of the hospitality on the other side of the wall. Someone is talking particularly loudly, and the clinking of various dishes acts as a buffer.

Through the door, Daniel enters his own room on the other side of the hallway, the hinges clicking shut and seemingly shutting out the entire rest of the world before he starts half-singing, half-humming a random tune.

Max looks across from him to find Lando typing something furiously on his phone, twisting the device around so Max can read the screen.

'it hurts too much to take my race suit off can you help me?'

"'Course, mate," Max snorts, "is it your shoulders?"

Lando visibly relaxes at that, and nods his head slowly, his face twisting in pain again as he goes to unzip his suit.

It's a methodical process, one that Max has done for himself a number of times. It's definitely strange, feeling Lando's hardened body beneath his hands instead of his own; he's touched Lando plenty before, but for some reason, the gentle touches he's utilizing to ease the sleeves off makes it all different.

He has to grasp at Lando's shoulder to tug the second sleeve off, and the hiss he gets in response doesn't go unnoticed, and a soft, soothing affirmation slips out of Max's mouth before he could even realize.

It's nothing weird for them. They say things like that all the time, encourage each other a bit too intimately. People look at them funny, yeah, but it's not weird to them; it's just how they've always been.

But right now, all soft touches and tender angles? Max starts to feel weird over it, the cauldron in his belly that Lando seems to control begins to boil over.

Once the sleeves go, the rest of the suit follows quickly, and the trousers are easily tugged off after Lando's hips prove a bit of difficulty.

When had Lando's body changed so much? It feels like just yesterday the two of them were sitting together on the stairs of his mum's front porch, soaking up the sun, practically nothing but skin and bone and baby teeth.

Now he's– he's solid, taller than him, even if it's just by a bit. His hair is curlier, and his teeth have straightened out artificially. He's lean but bulky and so different from how Max knew him all those years ago. His smile is still the same, though, wide and gappy.

Sometimes Max feels unreasonably pissed off that other people get to see it; he wishes he could keep Lando's smile all to himself, and he usually has to throw himself into a random task to take his mind off of that line of thinking.

The fireproofs prove to be more of a challenge; Lando's still a bit sweaty so the fabric is stubborn, sticking valiantly to all of his more intimate places. Max averts his gaze from the damp lines on Lando's inner thighs, inching up and up and up to where Max has never seen him, the only inch of skin he doesn't know like the back of his hand.

He shakes his head a bit too noticeably and begins treating this a bit like those practice pit stops; the ones the teams like to make the drivers do just for shits and giggles.

Roll the waistband, ignore the damp elastic of Lando's Calvin Klein boxers, inch the fabric down his thighs and then tug on the ankle cuffs to pull them all the way off. Easy enough.

While he was working on the trousers, Lando had wiggled his way out of the shirt and was already throwing on a big knit top.

How he's wearing something knitted, Max has no idea. The man is sweaty enough as it is, and yet he's throwing on a jumper– Lando does that all the time and it absolutely drives him up the wall.

The bottoms come off easily and Max breathes a grounding breath as Lando immediately replaces them a new pair of sweats.

"You won't be too hot?" Max asks as soon as he's collected himself, raising an accusatory eyebrow.

Instead of fighting back like he normally would, though, Lando just pouts, licks his top row of teeth like he does when the sim is being a bit tricky.

"No- come on, mate, I wasn't being serious, it's fine," he immediately backpedals, "I just know that I would get hot, is all. I'm just worrying about you, like a fool."

Lando quirks his lips up in response, a smug thing, as if he had just won whatever interaction they just had.

"Let me worry about you a bit more, yeah?" He waits for Lando to nod, "I'm taking you to the doctor." He says before Lando can say no.

---

ACKK I've never written this pair before but I like them!! a lot !!! I hope u enjoyed :)

[vargaslovinghours]

Requestober 2023: Vargas Edition

The playlist has returned for this year! There will be a few in between, but it should be updating at least once a week on either Wednesday or Friday or both - keep an eye out for your req(s)!

I considered a couple different lines for day 1 - there are just so many Narrator lines that could work for Scriabin! Any of the many times where the Narrator is being sadistic, it all just works. Plus, it’s fun to imagine Scriabin trapping Edgar in the same way, just shoops a wall right into his path haha

But in the end I went for one of the tags I left myself on the original TSP/Vargas crossover doodles, it does still live in my head rent-free after all. You can see in the background that those “invisible” tears were intended from the beginning as well :3c

There’s also something funny to me about Scriabin using the word “rubbish” haha ♪ How posh

Edgar, as usual, getting blame for something that was definitely his Narrator, I mean Scriabin’s fault lol

I really wasn’t sure what to do with day 2 at first - I’m too scared to watch any of the SAWs, or look them up on YouTube >~< I tried finding transcripts with stage direction or people describing them in text online but I couldn’t really find anything, I really do appreciate my friend for telling me about one haha. Even with that though, I still had to do a lot of guesswork! Something about wrists, fear, not doing well - Scriabin is very cute hiding behind Edgar but it’s still not very obvious what the theme is, huh?

I was able to find a very brief animation of I think? the trap that had been described to me but even that was a bit much for me :’D I was a very wimp that day! I didn’t even have it in me to draw the trap itself in the sketch! There’s something a bit ominous about not being able to see into the trap completely, only the blood pooling at the bottom ♪ But I’m still happy I went with what I did in the end, though I did have to change Scriabin’s dialogue from fear to accusation - though that tracks for him haha

Day 3 was silly and therefore easy to whip up haha ♪ The angst is done, the blood is done, this leaves only kisses! Any opportunity to use my pencils to make kiss-marks, I will take lol. Clearly this is what the prompt was pointing at! Obviously! Lol

If you look, Jake’s lips are painted pink and Scriabin’s red, and they have each other’s lipstick marks on their faces lol - I am attention to detail when it comes to kisses ♪

I did still end up making an alt even after pretty much decided on the first one, it’s still fun to think about Scriabin interacting with Jake before he gets his own body ♫ He’s so smug lol, at least they’re easy to cover! Ish! Mostly! Probably itch tho lol

Day 5, yaaay some Biblical Edgar <3 I have been out of practice drawing wings lately so they’re basically just Big Shapes here lol, it’s all about blocking out the space they’ll take for when it’s cleaned! I am quite happy with how he turned out digitally, his cute face ♥

Day 7 got a couple passes as well before settling! It’s a theme lol, though there were both kidverse! The prompt mentioned “brothers” but that doesn’t necessarily mean when they were kids - they can be silly and sibling-like even After, they have the range. Still, Edgar pushing him on the swing as a kid was a cute idea so I’m glad I at least scratched it down haha. Why’s he so heavy? He’s dense ♪

The alt was the winner tho! I love how much like a bug Scriabin looks here haha, how could he have possibly seen this coming??

Day 8′s sketch was done outside in the dark actually, stargazing very appropriate!  You can kinda see me go back and forth on their clothes in the moment lol, Edgar’s striped shirt visible on his upper arms underneath his long sleeves and I still ended up going with a scarf! I also planned to make their breath clouds but I forgot them in the end, that background took up a lot of my focus lol. Also how come Edgar’s feet turned out better here than in the final version >:P

Gaster! A warmup for Day 9 since it’s been a bit since I’ve drawn him, especially with the cracks in his face! Scriabin is annoying his offscreen so it still totally counts as being Vargas-themed lol

Their poses were a bit subdued initially so I knew I wanted to try again, but at the same time there are a lot of elements here that I liked! Especially their hands, Gaster holding his hands in fists at his sides rather than speaking to Scriabin through sign language, and Scriabin with his flourish-opened palm, inviting ♪

Actual pose skeletons lol, though Gaster’s was a bit top-heavy. It all worked out in the end at least :)

Day 11 was a very fun concept! Turning Scriabin into an Enderman was an especially fun idea if Edgar could figure/find out that he could hide from him using a pumpkin mask, though I’m sure that would make Scriabin mad as well once he found him haha. Just sneeaaak quietly behind him, he’ll never know! Also the pumpkin having Edgar’s glasses, goatee, and scars carved into it haha <3

All the same, I’m glad I went with what I did - Scriabin’s pose is so much more dynamic! Very fun! His hands and his legs, and the way his coat flares out! Plus putting his Ender teeth on display was a lot of fun haha ♪ Poor Edgar can’t catch a break no matter what world he’s in, at least I didn’t actually turn him into a sheep lol

Day 12, yaaaay I finally got to Uncle Jake! So nervous <3 Don’t break the baby, don’t hurt him don’t move too much ahhh! Haha, terribly cute ♥ I do still really love how confident Edgar is here - he’s usually so nervous around Jake, but oh how the tables! Dadgar with a support system <3 His FWB comes to say hi to his son, it’s very wholesome hehe ♪

Day 13 was actually drawn way of out of order, between several of the later days and even day 12 I think lol, it’s so hard to convince my brain to listen to new music haha. It was quite a lot of fun making the text not look like it’s “spoken,” outside of a text bubble hehe, I don’t do that too often! And of course still deeply inspired by his palette challenge, it is too pretty to not pull from every not and again <3

Honestly I initially had no ideas for day 14, and yet this was still the only sketch I ended up with! My earworm at the time came in clutch, honestly do listen to Everything In You it’s such pretty yearning starcrossed song ah <3 All these musical doodles haha ♪ Sweetness sweetness <3

And of course when they’re that close there has to be a kiss! Scriabin is surprised, but how much? :3c Edgar giving Scriabin kisses of his own accord 💖 That theme never really left me either hehe

Day 27, the last Vargas day! Had to get in one Snake Charmer before the end huh haha ♪ It’s too bad my Ladyverse!Naga idea was a bit too long or I would’ve done that, but I’ll never turn down the potential for pretty clothes! And spiders for that matter haha, I went with the Acanthoscurria Geniculata - Brazilian Whiteknee again :) As much as I love Scriabin as a Bold Jumper, tarantulas just have such gorgeous proportions! And of course, I always enjoy drawing Lady!Scriabin, so it was doubly fun to draw her as a spider :)

That’s all of this year’s Vargas sketches! A fun bunch! And it was fun to mix a few others in as well :D

[ashersbraincell]

Thanks to @clanwarrior-tumbly bringing the pre-angler lines to my attention, I have taken a deeper look into the lines that can possibly appear and come up with multiple theories on what the colour variations in text could mean. Before I start yapping, I want to credit @clanwarrior-tumbly for their theory of the self-aware player character as it is not something I had come up with myself

Alright, yapping below cut

Keep in mind all the info I have is from this fan(?) wiki entry: https://urbanshade.org/wiki/Anticipation

As much as some of them are probably just jokes/references, many of them seem to follow certain patterns and this prompts me to think that they have been picked for a reason, therefore carrying significance.

A lot of these themes include death/coming back from death, loops/cycles, and obviously stuff aesthetically related to the game, ie aquatic themes and themes of darkness. The first two examples certainly give credibility to the theory proposed by @clanwarrior-tumbly !

However, if you look on the link, and I assume they appear the same way in-game, some of these lines are differentiated by colour. Which is an odd choice to make. Personally, before I go into analysing colour variations I mostly agree that the white text could be attributed to the player character, as there have been just too many different lines for me to have combed through each and every one to check whether they would theoretically fit the character we play as. One proposition I have not yet had the chance to explore would be the done before(in UNDERTALE’S true lab entry theories no less) technique of seeing how the writing styles of each piece of dialogue compare and see if there are any common themes among certain variables, such as “Every Word Capitalised Like So” vs not.

First of all, the Wiki makes the argument that the red text could be used to represent the good people. And while the example of “Who are you? I don’t know. What are you made out of? Bad People.” certainly gives validity to this idea, in other examples of this colour choice being made I can’t exactly see them as coming from the Good People. For example, “Things Are About To Get SCARYSCARYSCARYSCARYSCARYSCARYSCARYSCARYSCARYSCARYSCARYSCARYSCARYSCARYSCARY” seems to mostly be used for effect as it wouldn’t make much sense for a character to speak just the red lines? Some have attributed red text to A-60, and while some lines fit those others don’t seem to. A fun tidbit is that all the Moon related lines are highlighted in red aswell. All in all, my guess is that red text doesn’t belong to any particular character as it cannot be consistently assigned to any just one, and that it is instead used for effect, emphasis or just to differentiate between speakers.

But red isn’t the only colour used during this “anticipation” dialogue.

The other colour that the wiki seems fairly confident about assigning to a character is green, and I think rightfully so. It is HIGHLY probable to assume that green text belongs to Mr.Lopee. It is not only the colour of his jumpscare, but one of the quotes used for it is also “Don’t get left behind”, which, if I’m not mistaken, is either the name or description of the badge you get when jumpscared by him. The interesting thing here is the other line that appears in the colour green: “Monkey’s On Typewriters. Eventually, You’ll Write Shakespeare”. As the wiki states, this is a reference to the infinite monkey theorem(search up yourself I ain’t explaining allat). I struggled a little to figure out how the infinite monkey theorem could link to Mr.Lopee, and what I managed to come up with was that it can be boiled down to something highly unprobable happening in the context of infinity. This, in my opinion, fuels @clanwarrior-tumbly ‘s theory by adding to the many ways this game breaks the fourth wall. What I’m trying to say is, I think this is either a warning or an observation by Mr. Lopee. The infinity in question is the sheer amount of players and how many times they re-play the game over and over again. The observation theory would mostly just link this to how the game is difficult to beat, especially in-universe(be honest, what kind of average prisoner would by chance happen to survive allat?) yet it is possible with the amount of tries we take as the player to complete it. Or, alternatively, the rareness of certain events/achievements/easter eggs happening anyway due to the players re-playing the game “infinitely” to get said events. As a warning, it could be hinting at how the players’ infinite influence on the game’s looping events could eventually cause something monumental, something big, like Shakespeare’s works were in terms of impact, to happen. Possibly hinting at a future update? Idk

Purple, like I will go on to say for Grey, would’ve had me completely stumped, but alas I was lucky enough to be watching a playthrough that brought to my attention the use of purple text elsewhere. For reference, the anticipation dialogue in purple is “Night Falls.”, which is apparently a reference to something, but as I said I don’t find boiling all of these lines down to from what they are references of too fun for theorising. Otherwise, it is used when interacting with the Ham Radio(which is also a reference to a game, but funnily enough NOT the same game as the anticipation quote so the purple connection cannot be argued to be there). The dialogue from interacting with the Ham Radio is as follows: “Can you hear me? Do you know who you are? Can you hear me? We can hear you. Do you know who you are? We can hear you.” So, it would seem that whatever the entity that uses purple text is, it is an entity that, albeit with a delay, mimicks/repeats what it hears. This would, in a way, suggest that “Night Falls” was something this entity has heard in the past from someone else and is choosing to repeat prior to an angler attack. I was stumped for what the significance of this could be, and so far all I have is my friend’s idea that this could’ve been something either Sebastian said as a badass phrase when he caused the lockdown by releasing all the entities. Aside from being entirely metal and fitting the idea of being prior to an angler attack, though, there isn’t much evidence to support this and it is thus a loose thread for now.

Speaking of loose threads, I am ENTIRELY stumped on what to make of the use of Grey text, as it appears in just one of the anticipation quotes and nowhere else in the game from what I know. The quote is: “Let’s Bleed Out On The Black Grassy Fields Of Nowhere Together.” And, as I said it IS written in Grey but I cannot highlight it as such on Tumblr unfortunately. The only thing of significance I could say for it is that it chooses to capitalise every word but that’s about it. The wiki is also short of commenting on what this could be a reference of, so near no leads for this one I’m afraid.

[thetownwecallhome]

OOC: My biggest regrets regarding this webcomic. And, what's to come.

(( bad grammar intended.

In case you're worried I'm being badged by bad reviews and/or "focusing too much on the bad"--- no. These are self-criticisms I've always had about this comic. It's always a joy to see you guys like it so much and there are some comics I love more than others and return to reread just for myself; but I think it's fine to have a healthy self-critical lens about your work sometimes. Just as long as you don't go 2000s-era Lucas and try retconning everything. So without further ado:

>Dislike the earliest gag where Jack complains about being 'fat'.

>Keeping art consistent and low-effort so it wouldn't take so much work.

>Introducing the Holiday leaders like I did. So underwhelming.

>"Mothball" [*sideshow bob grumble of pain*]

>While we're on it that earlier depiction of Clown being a jerk to Sally and Sally needing to be pepped-up by Jack to feel good about herself. Like 'Mothball' is needs a serious rewriting of dialogue to make it bearable ((to me)).

>"Packing Up" for reasons that should be painfully obvious later when I finish making Halloween Town comics. (it goes against current continuity in my headcanon)

>Really I regret how I wrote Sally and Jack a lot throughout the years. You can tell I was battling different takes about the characters and rationalizing them. I made Sally way too demur and Fluttershy-ish when she's not that kind of shrinking violet meanwhile Jack's either too kind and mature or too wrapped in guilt. For Sally I think I was operating on the logic that og-Carolyn-Thompson-script-softspoken-Sally > better then how she is in the movie because someone in my life was trying to convince me Sally was underdeveloped, and with Jack it's being hit w people saying he's an absolute incel or got away with everything in the film* and my coping by giving him more obvious guilt. Though, in fairness, Oogies Revenge, Kingdom Hearts and the fanbase didn't help that disparity by claiming Jack's just a cinnamon roll. Half of the reason "Ask Jack Skellington" prompts ever existed is so I could have an excuse to make Jack the spooky-doofy manchild of terror he is. I neglected that part of him for so long and he and Sally would be so upset with me. I failed you my babies.

>I think the joke of Jack being way too naive about how violent the other holidays actually are and/or oblivious to what adults use Halloween for is overdone in my work. I've done that gag like four times now I think.

>Unnecessarily hating on Lock, Shock, and Barrel for no reason. I think it shows just how much I didn't care for the characters before Zero's Journey came out.

>The Beetlejuice ask/reply comic from like 2015 or 16 whatever is not canon.

>Jack and Sally were too smexual in my earlier gags. Good god I REALLY hadn't figured out my asexuality, or theirs, for that matter.

>Like Jack suffering more +being too riddled by guilt, I think I made Oogie way too OP in my Oogie's Revenge (the prequel story to the entire comic) outline.

>This is a problem I have with all of my work but I hate the walls of text and run-ons all the characters do. It takes me out of my own fanfiction when it's just so obvious when I'm talking vs when the characters are. "Sally and the Doctor suffers from this a LOT".

>So many decisions made regarding plotpoints and plotlines that I think I muddled along the way or did way too quickly as it's obvious I don't have an exact outline for any of this fan stuff I'm throwing out. I really wanted to emphasize Harley and Mayor's blooming romance more than I did. They deserved so much better.

>AUGHTHEAWFULSELF-EDITED TEXT I DID IN 2015-2016 WAS TORTURE WHY DID I EVER THINK THAT WAS A GOOD IDEA???!

---

All of this is to say, one day, if Oddities or my patreon makes enough dough and my SSI sitch isn't so fragile or fluctuating- I really wanna hire a beta editor/artist to be my extra pair of hands in sprucing this comic up and making it more articulate, readable and complete for my liking. And yes, it HAS to be a hired job. I can't promise big bucks but I refuse to hand that kind of responsibility to someone without compensation. This comic's too big.

As far as what to expect from the comic after this year, here's all I can tell you for my endgame plan:

I plan to go until 2027, when this blog will be 13 years old.

I want to make next year special as it'll be 31 years of Nightmare Before Christmas then.

You're gonna get a new character soon. Don't worry; they won't distract from the og cast too much. In fact they literally go to jail.

More of Halloween Town in the human world to come.

More Wolfman and Vampire brothers shenanigans.

Jack and Sally past tyme.

One of these final years Ima do something really special with the other holiday worlds and leaders. You'll see.

None of the characters will double die but I will be basically ripping off a spongebob episode.

No one from Halloween Town is ever going to meet anyone from New Holland. You are going to get a Beetlejuice character, but not a full blown crossover.

))

[fearowkenya]

Winds of Change

Chapter 3: When it Rains, it Pours

The gentle babbling of running water is dissonant in Ryo's ears as everyone slowly starts to regroup, making their way toward the middle of the central path, where—his breath hitches, sharp and cold against the inside of his throat—Shuuji is staring at the ground, head bowed and shoulders taut.

What happened in the waterway left its mark on everybody, and Ryo's doing his best to watch over his friends in the aftermath. Unfortunately, he doesn't have eyes in the back of his head, and neither does Shuuji.

ao3 link in the source, extended post-chapter commentary below! (:

i had a whole bunch of stupid temporary names for each section of every chapter during earlier stages of writing to help keep track of what order the segments were in. like i said on ao3, the working title for this chapter (the middle segment, specifically) was "The Gang Misplaces The Baby". Other notable ones were "be gay do crime hold egg" (ch1 pt1), "Get Punched Idiot" (ch1 pt2), and "EGG" (ch3 pt3).

ive been sitting on all my silly kunemon dialogue for WEEKS. im still not sure how i feel about it - on one hand, i kind of like it when you can only figure out what kunemon's saying through context, usually via ryo. but also i think it's really fun to explore what kunemon's voice sounds like in dialogue - if you translated all of kunemon's kews, would he speak the same way as jewelbeemon or banchoustingmon? it's hard to say, given that theres basically no time in-narrative save for the evolution event where banchoustingmon is center stage. that's part of why i think it's a shame that ultimate and mega stage evolutions are affinity-dependant rather than story-depedant. that said, i've heard that the development cycle for this game was BRUTAL, so i dont fault the devs for it. besides, it's kinda fun to try to figure out how to change ultimate and mega evo scenes so that they fit into a specific area of the story. i won't get into it now, but i have MANY thoughts on the subject.

i also have many thoughts about ryo. i know ive talked about this before, but he was the one to surprise me the most in truthful. i truly was caught off-guard at how much of ryo is hidden behind the walls he puts up at the very beginning. it's so delightful to me that this rough, foul-mouthed, prickly guy is arguably the most emotionally intelligent of the group. i bet he has no idea that his ability to read people is so impressive, and likely views his eye for detail is nothing out of the ordinary. i think these skills are both things that he started to hone at a young age, and now they're just second nature. although. i do think these skills completely go out the window when he's in distress.

also on the topic of ryo - i will die on the hill that he and saki have some kind of shared history. i dont think they go to the same school; there's a few references to saki probably being at the same one as takuma and minoru, and then at the amusement park in truthful, theres a bit of dialogue between minoru and ryo that suggests that the two of them go to different schools. so instead, i've mostly committed to the notion that they're …hmm… childhood "friends" is a strong word. probably closer to childhood "acquaintances". childhood "other kid i kept seeing over and over at the same place, and since theres no one else my age around here i dont have any other options". childhood "best available friend".

anyway, I think they were familiar with one another through their parents. it makes sense to me that one of saki's parents worked with ryo's mother or had some other kind of connection to her that faded after she died. or maybe ryo and saki ended up running into each other constantly while ryo's mother was in the hospital. in either scenario, a much younger saki and ryo would have been together frequently enough that they got to know each other pretty well as kids, then grew distant after their families' paths stopped crossing, not seeing each other again until the start of the camping trip. i think thats a decent reason for why ryo's not quite as temperamental with saki as he is with the others rightrightright at the beginning, and it would explain why he doesn't seem to mind her following him around and saying stuff like "idk what you'd do if i take my eyes off you" without him getting all that annoyed (relatively).

but yeah, this chapter was a LOT of fun for me to write. i really liked the idea of getting the immediate aftermath of the fight with wendimon from ryo's perspective. it was gonna be from shuuji's at first, but i think he would have been too caught up in shock and grief to be paying much attention to any of the others. ryo, on the other hand, is extremely observant and perceptive even though he's also pretty upset.

i had a great time writing shuuji listening in on kunemon and ryo's conversation. obviously i loved the duality of shuuji having no idea what kunemon is talking about while we the reader know that ryo gets whiplash between trying to cheer up a gloomy kunemon, exchanging stuff they've noticed about their friends, then being personally attacked about his feelings concerning a specific person (whose identity i hope was at least somewhat discernible without kunemon goggles). shuuji can understand the words ryo is saying just fine, but the information he learns catches him off-guard, and it occurs to him just how much distance there is between him and most of the group. this gave me a fun opportunity to think about what it's like to be shuuji at this specific part of the story - he's just had this horrible brush with death, and even though he's doing much better than he was before, he's at a point where he hasn't grown close with most of the others yet. we don't see much of shuuji having to build or rebuild his relationships with his peers immediately following the waterway - iirc the bulk of what we get is after those 10 days takuma was gone, and by then, the way he interacts with the others is much, much different.

i also really enjoyed getting a bit silly about the game mechanics in the last segment. finding random shit like plates of ribs and weird bananas isn't really addressed much beyond acknowledging that it was found. i think theres been SOME commentary about how the thing is weird, but to my knowledge, WHERE those weird things were found isn't acknowledged. nobody ever sits back like "hey so why the fuck did i find a pineapple inside of the piano" and i thought i could play with that a little!!

all right, thats gonna do it for this week. as you may have noticed, my ability to accurately gauge when i can post chapters is… hmm… questionable at best. i currently plan on posting chapter 4 on monday, but theres a small local con this weekend so i can't say for certain. my usual weekend chores will likely be pushed to monday unless im able to get them done tomorrow (highly unlikely), so we'll just have to wait and see!

thank you for reading, and as i said on ao3, im really really grateful for the comments ive gotten, even the ones in tags on tumblr. im always happy for more, and im so curious to know what stood out to people the most.

[darkpunkrocker]

Hey, Mun Do you have any advice in writing Sidney for a fanfic?

//Well first of- Holy shit thank you? I'm glad you like how I write Sidney enough to send this 👉👈🥺 I would also love to see your fic if you do finish and post it!

//Anyway, Well it sorta depends on how you want your version of Sidney to be! I basically take inspiration from ORAS and masters dialogue, which you can actually fine here [Link]. Other than that, because there's not a lot of info on him, I also go HEAVILY by my own HCs, Which I'll put under a readmore! (It's a lot so be warned.)

OOC:

My Sidney is from Virbank, Unova, hence the heavy New Jersey accent (which is fun to write~) I got inspo for his accent from Here, Here (smoking tw), and Here. He's also Omnisexual and technically cis, but doesn't really give a fuck about gender other than that. I also basically channel a bit of Tulio and Miguel from Road to El Dorado. Random, but they're so fucking funny and dorky, yet try and act suave and mysterious. ANYWAY-

He comes off as very boisterous and can have an attitude, depending on who's talking to him, how and why. In reality, he's actually a nice guy, loyal friend, a total dork, and a sweetheart. He's not afraid to stand up for himself and others, and would probably fight someone if they were fucking with any of his loved ones. His battling style is very offensive, meaning he's all about attack and power over buffers and defense, and in away I think this also shows through his personality too.

When he was younger he was a "problem child", mostly because of his... shitty home life and parents, and got into trouble A LOT. Even slept a couple nights in jail as a teen. Much like Grimsley, he enjoys casinos and gambling, although he's not as "addicted" as his friend is. However, rather than card games (besides poker), he enjoys mostly dice and roulette games instead. He also enjoys playing pool at bars (usually against Glacia and Drake) but will also play with whoever wants to.

He's very supportive of young trainers, and will go out of his way to give them advice and give them battling tips. He sees himself in a lot of kids and teens, and is actually very patient and kind towards them, especially if he suspects they live a life similar to his own childhood.

With significant others, he always makes a point to make them feel loved, and is VERY physically affectionate towards them. He enjoys gift giving as a sign of love (romantic, platonic, familial, etc), and likes spending time with them as well. He enjoys flirting with his SOs or any interests, where he comes off as "suave" (either seriously or playfully) and likes to make the other laugh.

Also, much like my Piers muse, he also goes by a punk code, and is respectful towards others and stands up for minorities as well. Unlike Piers however, he can be a bit more aggressive towards authority figures and will fight back if he has to. Course, he doesn't physically fight others as much as he did as a kid, but he'll throw a punch if some asshole is in his face, threatening him. He's also known to be at protests and riots, and isn't afraid to give them his full support and help.

I think... that's it mostly? So sorry about the wall of text lmao, I hope this helps you! And also remember, these are just suggestions! You're allowed to write Sidney as you see fit, have fun with it! He has SO MUCH POTENTIAL, and it's sad that not very many people make fanfics and fanart of him (and dont even get me started on how some of these fics will portray him as a sleezeball and overall shitty person. I won't go into detail, but It's disgusting at times and makes me so disappointed cuz there's so little with him to begin with).

NOW GO FORTH AND WRITE, FRIENDO! And again thank you so much for asking me, this actually made my day. I love talking about my muses (AS YOU CAN SEE), and I'm glad you saw my Sidney fit enough to want to try writing him on your own!

If you ever have any more questions, feel free to DM on my main account @galactic-mermaid! I'll be happy to help you)