#it's part pride part love; at least this is what i'd like to think; he'd step in & protect them before they ever actually get annihilated

[ryllen]

a true powerful leader, that aims 'to-protect', and never 'to-be-protected' in the first place

[fraugwinska]

Since @chefskjssart's artwork that I commissioned was such a BANGER, I felt like I needed to do something to show my gratitude. So, I messaged her and gave her free choice over a little One-Shot I'd gift her. And that's how we ended up here :D Where are my little TV Sluts at? You can thank Chef - and I hope you all have fun ;>

NSFW - Explicit Sexual Content - Minors DNI - 5.7k words

"Gotta say, Val, the revenue of your movies really skyrocketed this quarter, fuck me."

Vox flipped through the quarterly reports, eyebrows raised and a grin on his face while Valentino, very pleased with himself, lounged on the chaise next to Vox's desk, smoking.

"I told you I've made a good investment." He grinned and blew out a puff of smoke. "All the horny bitches out there are eating my movies up."

"It's more than that, you're even making headway into other rings, holy shit! We've even got a foot in the Lust Ring market, which is almost impossible with that kind of competition..."

Valentino hummed approvingly.

"And the best part: I didn't have to do much." He added and let the tip of his cigarette rest against his lips, his grin widening. "My newest author is a kinky little genius."

Vox turned his attention to the papers again, his smile slowly turning into a frown as he scanned the declining sales in Voyeurscopes.

"What are you talking about? All of your authors write pretty much the same shit, what could be so special about-"

Valentino laughed and shook his head. "That one is - believe me, carino. Poor bitch has the mind of a succubus on crack but she can't get off."

Vox looked up, an eyebrow raised in skeptic questioning.

"Can't get off?"

"Can't feel anything. Can't cum for the life of her." He replied, leaning back and spreading his arms. "Numb like a fucking dead fish."

"Or maybe she just hasn't found a good dick." Vox mumbled, returning back to the reports, skimming over the numbers.

"Mh, you be the judge amorcito. Because I tried." Valentino growled, taking a drag from his cigarette. 

Now that got Vox's full attention. The TV demon stared at his partner for a few seconds of silence, then laughed maniacally, almost falling off his chair while Val rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Fucking weird little thing, she is. She can write the craziest shit, the hornier the better. Writes like a damn porn beast, but has no clue what good sex actually feels like."

Vox heaved, wiping his screen as if in tears.

"Ohoho, Christ on a Cracker Val, maybe you've been out of the business too long… are you maybe losing that golden touch?"

Valentino sneered. "Ay, and you think you would've been able to get that bitch to cum? Be my guest, I'll gladly watch you fail."

Vox grinned at the moth, his eyes dangerously teasing. The reports were long forgotten - this was too entertaining, and Vox loved to be challenged, because he loved the feeling of superiority he felt when he succeeded. And that feeling would be so much more satisfying when he'd beat his long time partner and porn prince of pride at his own expertise.

"Wanna up the ante? Make a little wager out of it?"

Valentino scoffed, then chuckled deviously. He took another drag from his long cigarette, his cerise teeth glistening with red saliva as he began to drool in anticipation.

"You know I like to play, Voxxy. Especially if the odds are so much in my favor."

Another script done.

Your best one yet, if anyone asked you. But you knew no one asked ever, so why bother?

You stood up from your desk in your private office - being Val's favorite pen pet had it's perks afterall.

You skipped the stage of employment where you'd be cramped in one of these horrible cubicles together with the other overworked, caffeinated and tired writers, typing another outdated secretary-fuck-fest-plot while the other employees complained about their last bad lay and the shitty pay.

At least you didn't have to deal with any of that. Your room was quiet and peaceful, the door able to be locked shut and the walls soundproof. No distractions, no chit chat, no loud coworkers or malfunctioning printer noises. Just the humming sound of your computer, and the whirring of the A/C Val had granted you - a luxury that most of your colleagues bitched about behind your back.

You stretched, your tired bones popping into place and you sighed. You were done for the day. Finally.

With the deadline looming over you, you had been a bit late with the last part, and the thought of being late with your work made you sick. But Val pressed for another banger (pun intended) like your last one, 'Dante's Infern-Hoe' and you didn't want to risk the benefits you were offered so temptingly by being sloppy.

But the script for 'The Devil wears Nada' sat now, freshly printed, next to your laptop, the file saved locally and in the cloud, with about an hour to spare still. You smiled, content and relieved. An hour of paid slacking off was nice, and you checked with a glance that the electric door still was set on LOCKED before you flopped down at the two-seater by the window, grabbing the remote from the small side table and turned on the TV.

A familiar voice spoke through the speakers, and you relaxed into the pillows with a small sigh, eyes closed.

As shitty as the program in Hell was, one thing it had going for it was Vox. That smooth, hypnotizing voice of the overlord that held pride's media empire in his claws was a delight to your ears, and even the mindless, overplayed commercial jingles were pleasant enough if he was the one narrating them.

For the millionth time, it seemed, your hand wandered under the hem of your pants, fingers rubbing lazily at your cunt, as you listened to him talk, advertising the latest angelic protection device that didn't do what he promised it to do.

It was insanity at this point, doing something over and over again expecting a different outcome. Every night your fingers were cold and wet with your slick and your clit bloody and raw while you felt nothing of even your most violent and feverish touches, trying for minutes to hours to experience a sensation you wrote daily about without the satisfaction of any remarkable buildup or release.

It was no use, you knew it was a fruitless attempt, just like all the others. The most you got out of your endless tries was a slight tingle one time where you were so desperate you fucked yourself with an electric rod on its highest setting, resulting in a power outage in your apartment and a big fat fine from your landlord a few days later.

Still, you craved it. Craved to one day feel at least something. After the disappointing One-Night-cannot-Stand-the-thought-of-it with your boss, the literal porn mogul you were ready to just give up. If the face of pride’s sexdrive couldn’t get you over the edge, was there any chance at all?

Valentino had been the last in a long line of desperate attempts, paartners ranging from incubi, paid whores, porn actors to even sexbots made by Asmodeus, costing you a pretty penny just for the hassle of trying to get through the return hotline to get your money back, explaining No, you don’t know how it was possible that the cock of the ‘Fuckboy 3.0 XXL’ broke into pieces after one time usage. 

You chuckled humorlessly at the memory - It was truly a pathetic time in your eternal existence, filled with you masturbating alone in bed like a sad porn star, yearning to experience sex like you wrote about in your scripts. Maybe this was hells way to punish you for your sins, your personal plan of torture - To never experience the very thing that possessed you on the daily.

The television droned on in the background, Vox advertising his latest technological developments; new features on your phone that you really could not care less about. Despite his unusual appearance, Vox was one of your absolute go-to Stand-in's for your plot protagonists. Charming, suave, depraved when called for and a dominating, thorough lover that took what he wanted, but with so much skill that his partner would cum threefold before he'd even begin to think about finishing. Cocky and yet sensual. Aftercare included. All the things your colleagues were too dumb to include, no wonder their scripts were a bust.

Yes, it was hell and therefore tastes were more... depraved than in the living world, but that didn't mean the populus secret wishes for some sort of common sexual decency was out the window, goddamn.

Your mind wandered away from your depressive ruminations, your hand never stopping its circular pattern around your swollen clit as your thoughts started to wander to its usual place, the only way that came close to what you longed for and what was the source for all of your best-selling porn scripts. Your boundless realm of fantasy.

'Come out, come out, wherever you are...'

Vox is standing in your doorway, his silhouette prominent against the bright white neon light coming from the corridor of the empty floor. His suit, neatly fitted to every curve of his slender body, is showing just how thin his waist really is, but that does not come even remotely close to describe his broad shoulders and firm, wide chest, contrasting it deliciously. His navy blue skin reflects the harsh lighting in the hallway, his screen sharp and clear, digital eyes never leaving you as he closes the door behind him, dipping the room you're in in darkness, the only source of light his brightly illuminated screen where his digital, mismatched eyes are solely fixated on you, hiding behind the long backrest of your couch.

'Found you, babydoll.' he says with that god forsaken sultry voice of his as he reaches for your throat, long fingers wrapping themselves around your neck as your breath hitches and he pulls you up from your crouched position, his long tongue running over your collarbones, the wet trails feeling as cold on your skin as his appendage feels hot. 'Now remember what I said? Ready or not...'

He presses you into a wall, his big, hard erection rubbing teasingly through the layers of fabric on your already wet core as you whimper with want. '... here I cum.'

You moan his name, the imagined feeling so painfully surreal, and you wished once more that your working fingers would elicit some sort of real, bodily response.

A cough makes you freeze in your movements. Your fantasy shatters like a mirror shot with a bullet and your eyes fly open, expecting to see maybe a dumb segment of a rerun of 'Vox2Nite'. Instead, you see the actual, real TV demon overlord, standing live and in color just a few strides away with an expression that was a mixture of confusion, curiosity and slight annoyance.

"I'd ask if I am interrupting, but it seems you already had me on your mind, huh, doll?"

Realizing that you weren't - in fact - hallucinating, you immediately whipped your hand out from under your panties, sitting up, flustered like a child caught with their hands in the cookie jar. How did he get in? Did you forget to lock the door? No. Did he unlock it?! You must have missed his opening and closing of the door over the voice in your fantasy. The same voice that is now echoing in reality. Oh what a shameful ending for a perfectly good fantasy orgasm.

"Um... shit, sorry, Mr. Vox, sir. I was just, you know..." you scrambled, getting nervous under the actual gaze of him as he folded his arms, waiting for you to end that sentence with a pitiful smirk. Jesus Christ, those arms are slender and muscular…

"Thinking! Just thinking, making script... scenarios..."

"Uh-Huh. And how is that coming along?" He asked, seemingly unfazed by the display before him as he took a few steps towards you.

"Oh, uh, haha, I didn't really... finish..."

He stopped directly in front of you, shutting you up with a low chuckle and his hand around your wrist, the one attached to the hand that had been in between your folds just literal seconds ago, lifting them up to look at the still shimmering wet residue on your fingers with a sneer.

"Mhm. Yeah, I've heard you have some problems with that."

Now that was embarrassing as it was alarming, and you ripped your hand out of his grip. Or better, you tried to do so anyway. It was a pointless exercise, his hand had an iron-tight grasp around your wrist as he pulled you up with one swift motion, so fast you stumbled into him, face to chest, breath caught in your throat as you were made suddenly aware how huge he really was compared to you.

"W-wow, my kinda pathetic reputation precedes me it seems. That's..." just great is what you wanted to say, but all words failed you when he lifted the hand in his grasp to his face, his thick, long tongue slithering out of his mouth just to wrap itself around your digits, lapping up the sticky residue of your arousal, watching you as your pupils widen and you squirm in his grip, mortified and turned on at the same time.

"Eh. Not as pathetic as my business partner's failure to provide something he's built his reputation on, sweetheart. Unusually smart of him to get you under contract before you shout it from the rooftops." He hummed as he tasted you, sucking in the pads of your finger hungrily and without hesitation, and all you could think of, frozen stiff like a deer in headlights, was: What the fuck is happening?

"But Val never had the kind of mindset I have... I don't do failure... or better said: I always finish what I start." His low rasp vibrated in the air around him, echoing in your head, and the heat his voice had brought to your skin left your mind racing. You asked yourself panicking if you had written too many dumb porn plots or if he was really implicating what you thought he was implicating.

"So, whaddaya say, doll..." His breath tickled your cheek as he leaned in closer, pulling you flush against him, a soft grunt of content as his hard dick pressed into your soft belly, his mouth right next to your ear, one of his hands running teasingly down your sides as he licked your ear shell. "...care to see if I can end your unlucky streak?"

'Fuck, yeah.' You thought, and almost moaned out loud as you let your head fall back to make room for his waiting mouth, when suddenly you stopped in your tracks. His hands were already groping over you greedily, squeezing your ass, your thighs, your breasts as he looked down on you, surprised to see your conflicted face.

"W...Wait. What's in it... for you?"

"Mh, you're clever. That's a new one." Vox laughed, his hand running up to the side of your face to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing small circles on the corner of your lip. "Me and Val made a little bet, you see, and well... Let's just say: I want this to work out just as much as you do, since my success depends on yours."

"Oh.." So Val was talking about you, that bastard. He had you sign an NDA when he hired you, given that you had been unwilling to make a soul contract with him, but you guessed that that had been naively one-sided. Asshole.

Vox stroked your bottom lip, parting them before you opened them slightly on your own accord, his dark blue tongue languidly tracing the edges, waiting for your decision, coaxing you to decide in his favor. And even though you were kind of pissed at Valentino for running around telling people about your... situation - you couldn't deny it was tempting, turning fantasy into reality. And what was another overlord trying to do the impossible? Worst case - he'd try and fail, just as all the others did before, like the stupid moth pimp. At least you'd have some leverage for maybe another good deal for your silence on it. And in the highly unlikely best case…

With your decision made, you flicked your own tongue against his, humming at the unfamiliar taste and the sizzling static electricity on your tongue. Vox grinned, his sharp teeth pressing onto your lips, nipping at the sensitive flesh and growling with approval when your lips parted.

"Ohoho, baby, this is gonna be fun."

Vox ran his claws through your hair, loosening your already messy bun until your hair fell free with his playful pulls as he explored your mouth, deepening the kiss with every lick, until he could push his whole tongue into your mouth, moaning and grabbing the back of your head tightly as you let him fill you without the slightest hint of protest, fighting a desperate losing battle for air.

"Fuck, don't you need to... breathe?" you whispered after he finally pulled back, a wet trail connecting his tongue to yours, grinning down on you while your lungs burned for oxygen.

"Perks of being state of the art, sweetheart." he watched your swollen, drool covered lips - parted to catch your breath - for a few seconds longer before he inquisitively tilted his head. "Did you feel any of that?"

You contemplated lying, but figured honesty would probably be the best in this situation, shaking your head and giving him your most pitiful attempt at an apologetic smile, already bracing yourself for him to give up or get mad. "My lips tingle a little."

"Mh." He huffed as he pushed you back into the two-seater, your back hitting the cushions with a soft thump, and unceremoniously pulled on your very not-sexy-at-all sweatpants and slightly-more-sexy-but-not-quite panties until they slipped over your legs.

"How about this then?" He pressed his knee in between your legs to nudge them apart. "Can you feel any of this?" He spread your already wet slit open to run a cold claw over your hole, softly dipping first one, then two and lastly three of his fingers inside to stretch you further open and push it back in, repeating the movement slowly while keeping his eye contact trained on your face.

You hummed non-commitally, closing your eyes and pressing yourself into the cushions, trying to feel for any sensation that should come with every slow drag of his digits pumping inside of you, and not finding any of it was so fucking frustrating. You felt like you were not only disappointing yourself, but him, as stupid as that sounded. But with every added finger and still a lack of response, you saw the progression of frustrations in his face that you knew all too well - eyebrows furrowed, irritated twitches of the corners of his lips that turned into a snarl with the third added digit. You frowned, sighing and bit your lip - nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing, and fucking nothing again, just another wet hole, the clenching of your walls a habit and reflex only, no pleasure whatsoever.

"It's no fucking use..." you whined, pressing your hands to your face in frustration and fear of looking back into his eyes, "I can't feel anything at a-aaAAH...!"

Your back arched at this strange jolt running down your spine, forcing you to grind down on his hand as a strong electric current buzzed from his claw tips right through your cunt, curling in your stomach in a hot wave of wanton need and knocking the wind out of you. Your eyes flew open just in time to see the flash of victorious satisfaction on his screen before his face turned fuzzy as you began to tear up.

"There's some reaction. There we go, sweetheart." He cooed and curled his fingers in that deliciously sinful way again, making your breath catch in your throat. For the first time since you can remember, you FELT. You dropped your hands from your flushed, hot face onto the plush of the couch, fingers desperately digging into the fabric, and stared at Vox with wide eyes. He winked, nudging his head to his buried fingers, and with a shattering gasp you could see neon blue bolts of electric sparks traveling down his slender arm, crackling around the soft flesh inside of your pussy that had never felt so sensitive.

"How are y-aaaa.... aaa-AAah...." he silenced any questions you might have had or possible retort with another shock wave traveling through his hand as he dragged his fingers in and out in an agonizingly slow pace, it had your ears ringing with white noise and your eyes water with unknown, strange pleasure.

You were shaking, and though it should have frightened you a lot more than it did to be electrocuted while doing something that could be considered borderline treason to Valentino (And it still had your cunt dripping on a whim), but there was nothing left for you to think of other than the sharp shocks making every nerve inside of you buzz, your thighs already trembling in anticipation of the possibility of an unknown, but oh-so-wanted climax. Yet it was somehow still out of your reach, out of your range of senses.

"I feel like we are getting closer, babydoll." The TV demon chuckled darkly, his voice over amplified, the electrical buzz reverberating loudly in the soundless room. "How 'bout we kick it up a notch, huh?"

He pulled out his fingers in a quick, cruel movement, making your pussy clench around nothing as you already mourned the feeling. Before you had the time to voice your loss however, he had your thighs already in his hands, pushing them back to almost fold you in half and spread them apart as wide as he could get them without hurting you. With a smirk he stuck out his tongue, inhumanely long, thick on its base and pointed at the end - and let his electric energy visibly spark around it. Holy Shit.

The moment his head dipped down and his appendage swiped through your puffed, red folds, you could feel your insides buzz in sync to his delighted moan. He began eating you out feverously and obscenely, not holding anything back, just like you wrote your most popular protagonists to do - NO, this was so much better than anything you've ever written or fantasized about, his tongue twisting in patterns that felt like nothing you've ever even came close to imagine before. It was like he powered your whole nervous system, overriding every strand of nerve with his own electricity, amplifying any touch, any lick and any suction that would normally not even register a thousand-fold.

"O-Oh my g... F-fffuuuuhhh-ck.. meeee..." you moaned in confusion and amazement, your legs shaking helplessly on either side of Vox's rectangle head as he fucked his tongue into you, switching between the deep, long, thorough thrusts and fast, small, teasing flicks into the wet heat of your cunt, coating his screen in a shining mix of your natural juices and his blue neon saliva. He sucked at the protruding of your swollen bundle of nerves, your sensitive clit twitching under his attention - it was maddeningly unreal. You felt like a complete, utter sham - if this was sex, you've never written it anywhere correctly.

"I'm working on that, sweetheart."

Vox smirked against your pulsing core, humming with satisfaction at your wet, gaping slit begging for him to push back in and fill you up again, making you ache for his tongue deeper and deeper, forcing every shred of sense you had to leave your mind as you bucked into his grip in desperation, chasing another intense jolt he held just out of your reach as he laughed deviously at your hungry reaction to his teasing antics.

You didn't care how pathetic you looked, how undignified or desperate you sounded. This was nothing short of fucking fantastic, this all new, unknown sensation that you deemed impossible to ever experience and an real, tangible orgasm so close you could almost grab it. You felt a violent greed, you needed more of this, more more more, you needed to cum and you knew exactly that only Vox was able to do it - but you needed him inside of you, pushing you into oversensitivity, no matter what was required to get you over the edge. Fuck all dignity, that ship had sailed the moment your back hit the couch.

You shook your head vigorously, choking down sobs of grateful pleasure that racked your body with every curl of his tongue inside of you and a guttural moan, high pitched and broken.

"P-Please... ah, Pl..please..." you panted and Vox felt for your thighs to hold you steady. His claws sank in with such force into the soft meat of your legs he drew blood. "F... Fu..Fuck me.. please." you stammered and he smirked, a look of pure joy in his digital eyes as he stared you down.

"Oh, I will, baby." He smiled against your core, curling the tip of his tongue around your clit with just the right amount of pressure that your entire vision went blank with a broken cry and the strongest wave of static he'd managed to work you up to so far. "Don't worry about that, I'm not nearly done with you."

He fucked his long, slippery tongue back into your quivering pussy, his thumb taking the place on the sensitive bundle of nerves where his pointy tip had been and you cried out again as he found that one spot you've always read (and written) about. You had questioned it's actual existence, believing it to be one of those wishful myths girls dreamt and you by proxy wrote about - Until Vox and his fucking talented mouth and miraculous tongue brushed right up against it with expert accuracy. It made your eyes roll to the back of your skull, mouth open to cry out as your back arched like a bow string.

"Yeah, there? F-Fuuuck..." The overlord growled, watching your blissful face twist with a new kind of overwhelming pleasure. "You gonna cum for me baby? Come on, let go, good girl..."

You knew the reader-pleasing phrase by heart. You used it a hundred times and fantasized about it even more - It shouldn't have that effect on you, but yet it was that comment of his, spoken in a raspy low rumble directly into your cunt that finally pushed you over the edge, leaving you panting helplessly and cumming.

Hard. Harder than you've ever dreamed about. Every nerve ending on overdrive, every hair standing on edge - it felt like getting struck by lightning, the static electricity sizzling through your blood vessels like a thunderstorm as he was still thrusting that goddamn magic tongue into your spasming hole through the clamping of your muscles, taking you through it with small, measured licks to keep you on the edge a little longer, whines and hiccups mixed with breathless laughs leaving your raw throat as you slowly returned to reality.

This was it, what you've always longed for, you realized after your vision came back to you, staring down at the smug looking TV demon who was still settled between your legs, his glowing screen painted with the remains of your climax. You managed to give him an exhausted smile, blowing a stray strand of wild hair from your face with a quick puff before dropping your head back in the pillow, absolutely spent. Vox pressed a toothy kiss on your thigh and pushed himself back to his feet.

"You've got quite the gushy orgasm, doll, damn..." he wiped a thick blotch of your arousal from the corner of his screen, the neon blue stained fingertip disappearing in his mouth as he hummed appreciatively and licked it away. Then he looked over you, slumped lazily on the sofa, your face flushed, your hair all tangled and the exposed pieces of skin covered with a shiny layer of sweat.

"Shit, sweetheart, you look goddamn good when you're all messed up like that..." He eyed you intently and leaned down, his heavy frame caging you in underneath him, one hand trailing a line from your still heaving chest, between your breasts and up to your throat.

"T-That was.. wow. Just... wow." Clearly illiterate and 50 IQ-points dumber post-orgasm, you cleared your throat, trying to compose yourself. While you were a little disappointed that you still hadn't really fucked, he did what he promised to do. Got you off - and how. You were grateful.

Sad that it was over, maybe even sadder that the chances of a repetition were likely zero - Vox was a goddamn overlord, and who were you other than a nobody with a hard-to-please cunt?- but grateful nonetheless. And you felt the need to let him know that.

"I don't know how to than... w-what are you doing?"

You sat yourself up on the elbows with a dumbfounded expression as Vox began to undress himself, his jacket, bow tie and undershirt discarded within seconds onto the ground and he practically pounced you as he began to undo the belt of his slacks, trapping you in between his legs and under the very prominent hard-on he sported.

"What, you really thought that was it? Make you cum once, win my bet and ding-dong-ditch like a fucking amateur?" Vox laughed as he pulled his massive length out of his pants - Words were your bread and butter but they would ever fail you to describe the gloriousness that was his cock.

Almost as thick as your underarm, smooth and almost shiny, glowing with built-in LED lights along the underside of his shaft and practically weeping with precum. He knelt down on the sofa, taking your hand to run it over its full length, smearing the sticky residue along your fingers, his almost bioluminescent cum dripping thick and slowly from the angry swollen tip. "Fuck no, sweetheart. In case you forgot, let me remind you..."

He leaned down to your ear, a violent electric bold jolting from his cock through your hand right into your overwhelmed, disbelieving brain as he guided you to line him up with your still throbbing entrance.

"I always finish what I start."

Vox had never been in a better mood.

His phone - finally surviving for more than just a few days, since his win against Valentino prevented the moth pimp from smashing it, even in one of his many temper tantrums - buzzed again. A notification of another upload into the cloud. He smirked when he saw the name of the user.

The whole conversation after he fucked Val's writing savant into Limbo and back had been a fucking blast for Vox - he reveled in the morbid joy of cashing in his stake while teasing Val that he'd have to wait another eternity for the chance to make Vox star in a double length porn with him - a fantasy of the moth Vox has been always against. Not to mention that Vox had accomplished what Valentino with all his 'mighty dicks and porn mastery'-aura couldn't. Which (rightfully) sent him into his biggest hissy fit yet, so enraged that, in lieu of Vox's phone to throw against the wall, he threw his newest Robo-Assistant Kitty out the window.

Although Vox had been certain he wouldn't lose the little bet against his partner, he still felt a little relief that his ass wasn't on the next new load of crappy porn DVDs. Granted, that would've surely caused sales to skyrocket - but with his revived and improved little star author that was more than just unnecessary.

Val's fears that a good dicking with a Happy End would sort of break the little writers 'Sex-Spell' and her scripts turn into shite like the rest of Val's useless crew produced proved to be the exact opposite. Ever since Vox made her cum - on his fingers, mouth and cock for multiple times that fateful night - her scripts improved even more, resulting in stellar sales reports, a major spike in cashflow and a personal inquiry letter for a meeting from Asmodeus himself (which Vox contemplated to frame and hang over his fucking bed like a medal of honor).

And since Valentino, in his hurt pride and childish, stubborn pettiness refused to speak or fuck with him, Vox had no qualms of paying his little writer a few more visits. Every time he found impish joy in finding new ways to make her cum, and after one shag-date where he actually stayed long enough for an after-sex-cigarette and some smalltalk, he discovered that she wasn't just a kinky, but also an interesting bitch with great taste in whiskey and a crude sense of humor that was just up his alley.

"I'm curious doll." Vox said as he took another drag from the cigarette before he handed her the bud, throwing his arm around her shoulders and pulling her onto his bare chest as he lounged on the new, bigger sofa he got for her office (more space and much more versatility) "What the fuck did you do to end up in hell? You don't seem like the ax-murder type."

She chuckled mischievously. "I was a pretty popular crime author back upstairs. I hit a pretty bad writer's block, and decided to get in some field work to inspire me for more creative ways of murder. No axes, but I did have a fable for knives." She grinned, inhaling the thick smoke as he laughed and the way her tits pressed into his skin had him almost hard again. "You know what's the most ironic part?" She asked, putting the bud out in the ashtray on her side table and glanced back over her naked shoulder to him, a devious glint in her eyes. "I got the electric chair for that." That woke his cock fully up again, and he couldn't help but take her for another round.

His assistant babbled something about his schedule, but Vox didn't listen. Instead, he planned on visiting her office again, maybe he'd even stay after and order sushi for two, who knew? The media Overlord smiled smugly as he opened the database and looked over the newest script you had uploaded to the cloud. It was when he read the title that he burst into ringing laughter.

'Electrocutie - One Big Cock Shock'

[ominous-horse-noises]

im ab to be annoying ab dimension20 fhjy but im genuinely loving the character arcs for the bad kids this season?

kristen going from self-annihilatingly stupid to trying to build a genuine bridge with the man who not only wielded the religion that traumatised her (bobby dawn), but also was trying to ruin her life, just bc she thought a grieving father ought to be comforted in some way? her genuine distress at being unable to revivify buddy even though the two had only had negative interactions, or her biting her tongue in front of her parents so she could better look after her little siblings? grappling with the fact that she still, on some level, expected practising religion to be easy and convenient for her as a holdover from an entire childhood spent being a Chosen One, and finally putting her nose to the grindstone and committing to working her ass off for a deity that couldn't even benefit her for a hot minute? making an effort to be cordial with tracker's new gf and letting go of that codependency? the kristen applebees from ep20 would NOT do all the same stupid shit as ep1 and i love that.

fabian being humbled by the narrative again and again has been an absolute treat for his character. the whole ivy/mazey situation was great: freshman/sophomore year fabian would've gone for ivy no sweat, i mean her character seemed pretty similar to pre-redemption aelwyn and he had a huge crush on her then. but this time, when he realised he'd hurt a genuinely great person, and intentionally swallowed his pride to make it up to mazey, even though it required him being 'uncool' with the whole twister thing. his general arc of learning that earnestness and humility doesn't make him less of a man felt like a natural extension of fabian defining his own version of masculinity- sure, a 'maximum legend', but also someone deeply involved in the arts, and someone who is less afraid of saying sorry and being vulnerable in front of someone he likes

fig. fig fig fig. what a woman. its been absolutely fascinating watching build her sense of identity over these three seasons. at her core, fig is a character that loves so deeply. in freshman, she was terrified of the depth of her own devotion, so she tried to distance herself emotionally from everyone. in sophomore, she built herself around that love for other people. in junior year, fig's arc has been learning she can do both: that she's defined by her love for others, but not solely by it. ik emily wanted to retire the character before this season but i think fig's paladin arc was the best capstone to her journey possible.

gorgug's arc has been about establishing clear boundaries for himself and i love it. im aware there's been some Discourse ab the mango soda scene but to me that was pretty easily chalked up to teenage insecurity. a big part of gorgug's arc was trying to believe in himself when everyone around him told him he was too dumb to follow his passion- imagine struggling in an area that you have no natural aptitude for, and someone comes along and also trounces you in the one area you thought you were the best in. i'd be petty and reactive too (gorgug follows up calling her a freak with the fact that she beat the shit out of him, so its clearly him just still smarting from a bruised ego and not actual malice). in general, i've really like gorgug learning to put his foot down and say enough is enough without completely losing his gentleness.

adaine hasnt had an obvious arc, but considering she addressed most of her baggage in the first two seasons, i'm not surprised. i would've liked to see the other bad kids address her 'teenage adult' behaviour, but her self-awareness about it and relying on fabian to pull in clutch for the oracool stuff still felt like she'd learned to rely on her friends at least + her reaching out to aelwyn and the two of them healing from their parents together has been rewarding it its own right.

riz is perfect and has learned nothing. his neuroticism is part of his natural swag

[prudentseer]

etho down bad on his knees for joel after initially rejecting him but pride-and-prejudice-enemies-to-lovers-period-drama style

sorry i had to find someone who might(?) share the vision

Hold my hand when I say this anon but never be afraid to drop your takes into my inbox, I love to hear them regardless of whether or not I see the vision.

Fortunately for you however. I SEE THE VISION, I UNDERSTAND YOU.

The "fell first--fell harder" dynamic for boat boys fits SO WELL in my mind because of double life. Etho being wary of Joel, kinda sad that he's teamed with him and by the end he's right there with Joel in chanting "The ship burns everything burns". Also their dynamic in limited life where they were "exes"...they are enemies your honour. I call that character development.

In fact, I see the vision so much that I actually wrote something in a more arranged marriage, period drama-esc style a long while back. It's unfinished (and a bit out of order for context purposes) because historical fiction is not my specialty and I know it's not exactly what you asked for, but it's what I had and I thought I'd share a snippet (it's 1.2k words I don't think I can exactly call it that anymore) of it.

It was odd, really, how much love could feel like an obsession.

He expressed it as quietly as he possibly could in forehead kisses and small gifts; just so it didn't collect in his chest to claw at the confines and suffocate him. And it was probably dramatic to say but with the lack of air he felt around Joel it truly did feel as though if he didn't let some of it out of his heart, he'd explode.

Or even worse, he'd tell Joel how he really felt.

He'd gotten dangerously close on occasion after too many drinks by the fireplace or Joel dancing a step too close. But he didn't.

Because Joel didn't love him back.

And why would he? Etho had all but forbidden him from doing so.

This day had felt equal parts fast and agonizingly slow. But he had a feeling that a marriage he didn't agree to, with someone he barely liked, for power he couldn't have might have something to do with that.

Joel rests on the edge of the bed, one leg up and crossed on the mattress while the other dangled loosely over the edge. His tie hung loose around his neck and his shoes long kicked off but his suit still on. Etho leaned against the dresser across from him, arms folded and mouth pressed into a firm line. The grandfather clock ticking beside them. It had been three minutes and 29 seconds since they've entered their shared room and neither of them had spoken.

It was much easier to watch as time passed silently than it was to look at the person in his bed, the matching ring on his finger.

A heavy sigh startles him from his thoughts. "Listen, could you at least pretend to tolerate me?"

Etho blinks slowly. "I--"

"Don't say you have because how you've been acting like there's been a knife at your throat the entire day." Joel interrupts, running a hand through his hair. A nervous tick, something Etho noticed in the time they've spent together. "I've sent you three letters since we last saw each other; none of which you replied to, you were barely there for any of the planning process and when I see you for our actual wedding, you can't even look me in the eye."

"That's because--"

"Of what? Because I told you that I loved you?" Joel rolls his eyes. "God, excuse me for putting an effort to make it work with the man I've been betrothed to for over a year."

He remembers the day. They'd been exchanging letters weekly for several months at this point but it was only their third official time meeting in person. It was a nice day so they took a walk through Joel's garden and I instead of the flowers Etho noticed that there was this look in Joel's eye, a smile on his face and a certain tone in his voice...Joel didn't even need to tell him. He just knew. It made it extremely uncomfortable to see him again, that they both knew.

He glances down at the ring on his own finger before shaking his head.

"I'm never going to love you like you want me to."

"That's fine." Joel states, a small twitch in his face betraying his words. "I'll...I'll get over it eventually if it means you'll work with me."

Etho tilts his head. "Work with you?"

"You don't have to love me. You don't even have to like me or be friends with me..."

"But...?"

"But we're going to be a team." Joel finishes, pulling off his tie in one swift movement as he does. "This means you're going to sit next to me at gatherings, you're going to dance with me at least once when we're invited to balls, you'll eat one meal a day with me, you'll share a room with me and please for the love of God, at the very least don't look like you're going to throw up when you see me."

A compromise. A reasonable one.

"I can do that." Etho replies, as level as he can, straightening his own tie as he does. "On one condition."

"What?"

"You won't ever expect anything more."

He's being bitter and he knows it. Taking out his anger out on someone who doesn't deserve it, someone who didn't ask for this either. It's unlike him really, that he can't bring himself to care.

"You're not exactly making it difficult lad."

"Joel--"

"You have a deal."

Etho nods. "Then I'll play the part."

"You'll play the part *well*."

"I promise."

Etho didn't remember exactly when it stopped being a show to him.

"Really interesting page?"

Etho blinks himself back into reality, Joel staring at him so intently from his side of the bed that he feels his chest tighten. "What?"

Joel chuckles, rubbing his eyes sleepily before shuffling close enough that Etho can wrap an arm around his shoulder. And he does, squeezing it lightly as his arm curls around.

"You've been staring at this page blankly for the past ten minutes." Etho glances at the grandfather clock in the corner. It's been longer. "You don't have to read the book if you don't like it."

This book was Joel's recommendation and Etho had to admit that it was good, he'd just been...very distracted lately.

"No I like it's just..."

"Yeah?" He smiles, head bumping Etho's shoulder. It burns. Every touch Joel gives him feels like fire has been set to his veins. "What's wrong?"

And his eyes are staring up at him so soft and kind and warm and understanding and it feels like he can tell him anything. Almost anything. The words feel heavy on his tongue, going down like oil as he swallows them.

"Nothing, you should go back to sleep."

He won't be able to resist forever but he buys himself one more day.

Joel's nose wrinkles. "You--"

And Etho is saved by the fact Joel's interrupted by his own yawn.

"You know I'm not stupid right Etho?" Joel states, settling further into Etho's arm as he does. Etho only pulls the sheet tighter. "You've been weirder than usual and if you won't tell me, I'll figure it out myself."

Theoretically, he could tell him but what then? He wouldn't leave, he wouldn't laugh but if Joel knew what Etho felt for him, he would never let him get this close to him again.

And it'd exactly what he deserved.

Karma for being an asshole to someone who just wanted to not be treated like dirt by his husband of circumstance and all he can do is accept it. Accept that he missed his chance.

Maybe one day his heart will catch up with his brain.

"Goodnight Joel."

"I'm serious." He yawns again, head tucked into the crook of Etho neck; breath tickling his clavicle. "I know you better than you like. Just wait."

It's true and it's even scary sometimes. Etho wonders how on earth he got so lucky to have someone that understands him like Joel. Someone who was willing to stick by his side through everything.

Etho waits until Joel is settled, snoring softly again before he places his book down gently on the nightstand, blowing out the table side candle. He tilts his head and presses a soft kiss to the top of Joel's head, waiting in case he stirs.

"I love you." He whispers into his hair, taking a breath when there's no response.

And the part of his chest settles just enough that he feels like he can sleep too.

[tigirl-and-co]

Specks of Dust in Hallowed Halls

Part 2; Linguistics

Part 1, the introductory chapter, is here!

Now we get into the shippy stuff! And bonus points for anybody who recognizes the book I've chosen here

"Howlsong, who had fallen asleep at the outer edge of the canyon while he waited, led them silently back through the forest. Fritti, full of vague resentment and doom, had no conversation to offer, either. After a long stretch of unspeaking travel, Pouncequick finally broke the stillness.

"Just think, Tailchaser," he said, "we've actually been to see the Queen of Cats!""

You were curled up in a nook that you had unofficially claimed as your own somewhere in the human residence. Made more comfortable by a few blankets and pillows, you had chosen it for its out-of-the-way location and because Metroplex could both see the spot with a camera and use a nearby speaker to talk with you.

In your lap was your phone, currently accessing his personal communication line, which let him hear your voice.

Metroplex loved your voice. It was his favourite sound, the most wonderful melody he'd heard in all his unfathomable eons of existence. Every syllable, every stutter and stumble was permanently caught in his memory circuits, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

And when he learned you had a collection of books back on earth, he had practically begged you to import some to read to him. Not only was he desperate to hear your voice, Metroplex was also curious about you. What you liked to read, what the human culture you hailed from was like, what you thought about things...

So, you found yourself contacting a friend on earth to bring a few books to the supply ship every so often, and spending a bit of extra cash to get them shipped here and back. You didn't mind. It felt nice to be heard. To have your interests acknowledged and considered important.

And, quite honestly, you simply enjoyed hearing him speak. The deep rumble was both soothing and impossible to ignore, and his contemplative nature gave every statement the gravitas of some ancient philosopher comprehending the universe.

"So, Metty, what'd you think of that chapter?" you asked, keeping your own opinions out of it. You were just as interested in his thoughts as he was in yours.

A few moments of pause. "Hm... are human noble courts typically like that?"

You chuckled. Of course that's what he picked out- he'd borne witness to much more sophisticated councils time and time again. In fact, some other part of his processor was probably preoccupied with one now.

"Honestly? Never been. But if I walked in to one and it went like that, I wouldn't be surprised in the least. Fancy people looooooove making overly complex routines and rules and then not actually doing anything to help." You looked up into his camera and beamed at him. "But I get the feeling that sort of behaviour isn't unique to my species."

You felt as much as heard his merriment at that one. "No, it truly is not. Although I've found Cybertronians prefer bureaucracy to bloodlines."

You snuggled back into your nook, still making eye contact with the camera as you got ready for what was certain to be the nerdiest bout of flirting any human had ever partaken in outside of a lab. "Ah, humans most definitely get up to red tape and government nonsense too, but I'm afraid that compared to millions of years of rule-writing, ours would pale in comparison."

You smirked. "Although I'd like to see what would happen if somebody addressed Prime as 'Your Regal Softness.'"

Metroplex desperately wished he had finer control over his internal mechanisms so that he could embrace you right now. But he would have to settle for watching you curl up against his walls. "Knowing that mech, he would assume it was an actual title and wear it with pride."

You burst out laughing at the image, and how it didn't seem all that far-fetched. You both respected Optimus, but that didn't mean you couldn't be irreverent about him in private.

And as you chatted with the titan, book now just conversational fuel, you were struck by how easy it all was. The meandering levity, the way you each made both space and time for each other...

And how easy he was to love.

[cinderella-ish]

Fruits Basket Queer Headcanons

The more I watch and read Fruits Basket, the more I get the sense that no one is straight here. Well... almost no one. So, in honor of pride month, here are my queer headcanons for the cast of Fruits Basket!

(Disclaimer that these are my own personal headcanons, obviously nothing official, etc... I try to draw on evidence from the text, but I'll admit I'm occasionally going purely off vibe. Also, I'm bi and genderfluid, so that's the lens I'm bringing to this. I'd love to hear your headcanons, especially if they differ from mine! Enjoy!)

Genderfluid and/or genderqueer: Ayame and Ritsu

I (probably somewhat controversially) think a lot of the gender non-conformity among Fruits Basket characters is just that: gender non-conformity. Momiji is one example; he dresses in girls' clothing (though not "like a girl") until his growth spurt, but it seems important to him to be seen as a man from at least that point forward.

Ritsu is someone whose gender identity and/or nonconformity really should've been explored more in the manga - as written, it feels like Ritsu's exploration of gender was viewed as something he'd grow out of, rather than a search for understanding himself. He doesn't really seem to mind being identified as either male or female, though he obviously feels a lot of shame about his comfort with wearing women's clothes (though no one around him when we meet him really seems to mind, which is nice-- I also appreciate that Ritsu was shown to have friends who adore him outside of the Sohmas). Anyway, the fact that he seems okay with being referred to as both a man and a woman is the entire basis for this headcanon.

Ritsu also idolizes Ayame, and I think part of this stems from Ayame's own security in his non-traditional gender presentation. We don't really get a lot of Ayame's thoughts on gender, despite his line of work, but he strikes me as the sort of person who would enjoy playing with his own gender presentation and would be more than open to exploring his gender identity (and probably has!). I think Ayame would lean more toward having an expansive view of masculinity rather than dressing more feminine when he feels more feminine, but I also think he would embrace the different ways people might perceive his gender.

Transgender Woman: Akito Sohma

This I think is quite clear in canon. Akito was assigned male at birth, then transitioned to female.

What makes it hard for some people to see Akito as trans is that the reason she was assigned male at birth was not the typical reason people are assigned male at birth in our world (it was her mother's demand, rather than a guess based on the shape of her genitals), but I don't think that makes her any less trans.

Under the Ace and/or Aro Umbrellas

This umbrella is a little tricky for several of these characters, because they've been forbidden from dating, or had very controlling parents, or thought they'd only hurt anyone they loved, so they haven't necessarily had time to figure out whether they've just repressed that part of themselves or they just don't experience attraction at all/without a strong emotional connection first. (Not everyone needs time to figure that out, though!) But anyway, here's who I think would eventually find themselves under at least one of these umbrellas!

Asexual/Aromantic: Kazuma

I love the tidbit that Kazuma tried dating women, but talked so much about Kyo that he never got a second date. I like the interpretation of him as a gay man, but to me, he reads as asexual/aromantic. Dating just doesn't even seem to be on his radar!

Demisexual/Demiromantic: Kyo, Shigure, Machi

A lot of the fandom sees Kyo as demi, and I'm totally here for that interpretation of him. He generally seems annoyed by or frightened of girls who aren't Tohru (frightened either when there's a risk of transforming, or when Kagura is involved). Also, it's CUTE that Kyo takes after his dad (Kazuma) in this way.

At first blush, it seems very unlikely Shigure is under the ace umbrella, but I couldn't stop thinking about his brief relationship with Mayu. He's the one who suggested they date, yet he seemed completely disinterested in her. He did sleep with Ren, but that was only for revenge and because he imagined Akito would look like her if she'd been allowed to grow up as a woman. I genuinely believe all his "high school girls" ickiness was an act, much like most of his personality.

It doesn't seem like Machi can totally tell if/when she likes something (or someone!). This makes me wonder if she's just never had feelings for anyone before Yuki.

Demiromantic: Rin, Hiro

Rin seems open to sexual relations with people other than Haru, but I genuinely can't see her having romantic feelings for anyone other than him. I see Hiro similarly with respect to Kisa. I think, if they ever split, it would take an extremely long time for him to even be open to falling for someone else.

Under the Bi/Pan+ Umbrella

So, I'm not making a distinction between these two (and other orientations that fall under the same umbrella, like poly- or omnisexual) because that seems like a very personal, internal conversation. I know some people make a distinction between the way bi and pan people experience attraction, but some don't, and that feels too prescriptivist for my purposes here. So, these are characters who I think experience attraction to multiple genders!

Tohru obviously falls for Kyo, but she also thinks Akito is cute, she thinks Rin is "shapely" and "beautiful" (her words!), and she goes along with it when Saki talks about them getting married.

Yuki ends up with Machi (and I love them together!) but I think Kyo was his first crush. His arc is also very relatable for a lot of queer folks (myself included!). And he's a disaster. Long live bisexual disaster Yuki Sohma!

Shigure is tricky, because the flirtation between him and Ayame could just be a joke, but I personally think it's a joke that arose out of some fun nights spent together...

Akito obviously likes men, but she also flirts with Tohru when they first meet.

Saki talks about marrying both Tohru and Kazuma. She's probably joking about Kazuma, but she's generally a very literal person, so I don't think she's joking about Tohru. She also marries a foreigner canonically, and that foreigner is probably a man.

Momiji talks about finding an amazing sweetheart-- not an amazing wife or girlfriend!!-- one day. I think he was being very intentional in not specifying his future partner's gender.

Hatori is the one I feel least sure of, but my headcanon is that he gets so annoyed and embarrassed by Shigure and Ayame because he doesn't want anyone to know he was totally part of at least a few of those trysts...

Mutsuki and Hajime are definitely together, right? And it seems like the fandom mostly sees Mutsuki as bi, which... yeah, that tracks.

Hatsuharu's first love was Yuki, and his last love was Rin.

Kakeru has a girlfriend, but for some reason, I have it in my head that he always refers to Kyo as Yuki's "hot cousin"? Did I just imagine that? Anyway... even if I did make that up, I think his backstory is a great analogy for the experience of coming out. He was trying to fit in a box and decided he was done with it. Pure chaotic bi energy.

For Ayame, see Shigure and Hatori above. (Also, “I am a bottom ALL THE WAY!!!”)

Mine is admittedly here just based on vibes.

Mitsuru likes Ritsu even though she's not entirely sure of Ritsu's gender!

Kimi is also here purely based on vibes.

Gay and Lesbian

Hiroshi has always struck me as gay. I can't really explain it. I usually have absolutely awful gaydar, so it's odd that he gives me such clear gay vibes. I wrote him as gay in my longfic, Bloom Within Us, and I'll probably always write him as gay.

President Takei obviously has a crush on Yuki. We don't really see him show interest in anyone else (partially because he's such a minor character). He also seems to still be a bachelor in Another, which could be because he can't legally marry yet...

My headcanon that Kunimitsu is gay kind of popped up as I was writing Bloom Within Us. There's no particular reason, and he doesn't give me strong gay vibes or anything.

Hajime and Mutsuki are definitely a couple! (Right?!) And it seems like most of the fandom sees Hajime as gay which... yeah, I can get behind that.

Akimoto (Arisa's senpai from her gang) is another character who gives me such strong vibes that I thought it was canon that she was a lesbian. Whoops. Anyway, I headcanon that Akimoto is gay, and referenced that in one of my oneshots.

❤️🧡💛💚💙💜

Controversial omission: Arisa Uotani. She says she likes Kureno because he reminds her of Tohru, but she doesn't like Tohru? Yes, she gives me major queer vibes but this to me points to her being straight. Also, based on the way she reacts to her friends developing crushes or falling in love (and the way they react to her falling in love), I don't think there's anything between her and Saki or her and Tohru (as much as I love fics that pair her with Saki!). I also think not every relationship with lots of physical affection and strong feelings of love has to be romantic.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed reading my queer headcanons! This has been in my drafts for months, so I'm really glad Pride Month gave me a reason to finish this post!

Happy Pride!

[gaypirate420]

Curiosity here: {Discussion}

If you could re-write Jasper but keep 2 things about him, what would you keep? Besides appearance and gift! How would you explore this new version of Jasper?

For me, I'd keep his army past and Alice. But I'd explore how he changes over time and comes to realize how bad being on the Confederate side & being racist is. (I think you get it I'm trying to keep this short.)

Such as what makes him change and how he copes with his new understanding, and y'know the whole process of that.

Ofc, she comes into play too, maybe she's the catalyst that gets him to thinkin' about the topic at the surface, but it eventually goes deeper as she overtime explains things to him, and he thinks further on his own. IDK BRO I'm just thinking and wanted to read what you'd do. {Have a discussion.}

I'd change him shacking up w/ the Cullens though...or maybe their relationships with each other. I'd love to explore everything basically around canon while still being divergent to an extent. (Canon Related?)

He'd be the main character, but I think you already knew that if you read or at least skimmed this. But I have a terrible fear of people misunderstanding me. (⊙﹏⊙)

But yeah, I was just curious! I know a lot of people have done all sorts of things with him in Fics regarding his past and such, but I do always enjoy reading your responses to things.

This is just a purely hypothetical discussion. {If this was ever made that would be ambitious as hell cause like mf is like... 150 years old!}

I don't even want to think about all that time, and they never sleep either so like holy hell. So many moments of introspection and guilt and etc. to write I'd have a mental collapse. {But that's me when I write anything but also editing sucks ass.}

But not to mention ofc the huge amounts of research everything would take, and I am a huge perfectionist.

-Sincerely a mutual who tried to ask a few questions then freaked out over my own questions.

I'm making this anon now because I fear this ask now.

I think we have the same idea dear mutual!

(this is so fucking long omg I went off the rails, let me know what y'all think.)

I wouldn't rewrite anything, I'll just play it differently, I'll give it a nice depth.

I've always been on the side that just rewrite or ignore Jasper's confederate past is- not ideal. Yeah it's okay for a silly little comfort fic with your favorite vampire but not when talking about his actual canon characterization.

I would keep him serving for the Confederate army. I know a lot of people don't like that about him, but, I think it's a huge part of his character but there was something lacking there.

And what was missing is guilt.

Jasper, as to how he is written, and how we see the scenes of his past are played on both the book and the movie makes him look like he wasn't ashamed of his racist past or that he was even still prideful for it.

And it's so weird for me, how could this man who spent a century long depression, a self described "monster" a "nightmare" that just floods with self loathing couldn't feel guilty for not only taking someone's life but their freedom?

How could he feel guilty over killing the newborns but not black people? It doesn't make sense and it makes it worse, it makes you think that he, in modern times, it's still a confederate and also because vampires are "mentally frozen." He's not changed that much really then.

(I think Jasper lacking guilt and remorse about these fact about him is because of SM and her own views she not so subtlety spread all over her books though.)

So yes, I am keeping him as an ex-confederate soldier. Jasper was 17 so we are just to assume he was ignorant, and that's okay, we can live with an ignorant white boy for now. I cannot stress enough about how there is no need to make mental flips and splits to justify this choice of thinking in a 17 y/o southern boy from the 1840's. But, he gets to change, he, after the first years of him killing the newborns reflects about this, he might not be completely educated but he has the spirit.

Now let's talk about Alice.

I love her, but, if we are really analysing this then her and therefore the rest of the Cullens (because they welcome her and Jasper on their family) are okay with Jasper serving for the confederacy and I don't like that.

Why did Alice make him feel hope and all this shit and get him to change and learn a new life but didn't make him reflect on that maybe, perhaps, fighting for the enslavement of an entire race wasn't a good thing to do.

She says "you'll never be that again." referring to him being a vampire killing machine, not a racist, may I remind y'all.

So, I think the change would be about Alice teaching him things, Jasper spent so much time with Maria and then he was seriously depressed, I get the idea he wasn't interested on- going outside besides to feed from humans.

I think there are two types of vampires, those who love seeing humanity grow and change and come up with all these little inventions and then the ones who just see humans as prey.

Alice being the first and Jasper the second, but not for long after he meets her.

I think Alice could update him about the modern world that was the 50's, she would educate her that yes, Jasper's gentlemanly ways are charming and make her blush and giggle but there are some comments that aren't okay, just because in "his time" it was "okay", "funny" or "right", to say these things doesn't make them less offensive, dismissive and hurtful.

Alice would ask Jasper what did he felt while serving? And why? Was he even fully aware of what he was fighting for? Did the years of him seeing countless human's fight and go to wars that got bloodier and more destructive made him stop and think about the damage of his own army career?

Make the man reflect. Make him think for days and days about these questions he asked himself but never truly took the time to answer them. I need Jasper to have a slight mental breakdown before he gets to know the more peaceful life with the Cullens and Alice.

Alice asked these questions in her endless curiosity, not in innocence, but rather to know Jasper, really know him and understand him.

I want him to feel disgusted about having to feed from humans now that he realizes how much harm he did, and that's were the Cullens come in, Alice knows about her new family of course and it's more than excited to know her mate wants this life too, not because oh he's so in love with her he'll do anything (he is) but because he wants to change.

Carlisle let's him stay because he knows this, he understands in a way and he can't help but sympathize with him and Alice wanting to change herself and help her partner.

But Jasper can't fully because his body is asking him to kill constantly. He doesn't want to keep harming people, but his body can't forget, not only his body it's scarred as a reminder, but there's this annoying bloodlust that doesn't want to go away just yet.

But he has Alice, holding his hand and make him feel like everything will be alright.

Jasper is struggling but he is changing, he is getting more and more mental peace, finally, after a century and a half. It's slow, it's painful but it's there, self forgiveness and change.

One of the things that I love, a concept, Jasper being into philosophy, history and just literature, him loving to learn.

I love that in Breaking Dawn Jasper wanted to help Bella with her thirst. And of course I love him being hurt when she's way more successful than he is after so many years.

Seeing someone who you share the same experiences is so amazing, it helps you, but seeing them overcome this challenges that you also endure it brings you down on such a horrible way, it hurts you, but it makes you think of who you were before and how much you have accomplished. How much you've changed and that's my take on Jasper Hale.

I am not normal about him.

Also, I think I would change vampires not being able to sleep or cry, I think Jasper deserves both, as a treat :). I love him.

[drarry-is-totally-cannon]

Drarry & The Goblet of Fire: 4th Year Rewrite

Chapter 8 ~ The Quidditch World Cup

Harry arrives with the water, having only sloshed a bit onto his jeans, which he counts as a win. Outside the deceptively small tent, Mr. Weasly struggles with a pack of matches. At least twenty of the small sticks lie discarded and broken at his feet, still, he shows no signs of frustration, merely curiosity.

Taking pity, Harry heads over to him, setting his pail carefully down.

"Would you like me to show you, Mr Weasley?"

Ron's father nods enthusiastically, "Oh, yes. I'm no Molly, but I'd like to have something passable on the table before we head over to the arena."

Harry chuckles. Arthur Weasley talks about his wife as if he fell in love with her yesterday. Harry can't even remember Aunt Petunia saying anything about Uncle Vernon at all.

Harry doesn't bother asking him to just use the perfectly good fireplace inside the tent. He already heard him scolding Fred and George for trying to open the windows. "We must appear as muggle-like as possible." He reminded them, despite the blatant magic that fills the air around them.

"Well, it takes a bit of practice, but what you've got to do is . . ."

-

A quick learner, Mr. Weasley gets the fire started in only three more tries. Harry carefully stores the matches in his pocket, safe from Mr. Weasley's innocent destruction.

"Where should I put this?" he asks, gesturing to the pail.

"Oh, right, Ginny told me you were fetching water. You were gone a while you didn't get lost did you?"

"Oh, no. I was with Dean and Seamus."

"Good, yes, I saw Mr. Finnigan earlier. Poor man, he said he was used to all this, but these things are a bit much for anyone. He seemed alright though. He may be a muggle, but he's still Irish. Ah, right, just leave the water here, Molly packed ingredients for soup. 'Said there's no way I can mess that up. Ron and Hermione have gone to get souvenirs, you probably find them at one of the stands."

"Thanks." Harry nods and runs off again, not missing Percy telling some poor little girl and her nana off for shooting fireworks. Something about the statute of secrecy.

"All this noise? How can anyone work? Of course, Mr. Crouch is having no trouble, I must strive to be like him. I cannot be late with this report!"

-

It's easy to spot the cart of Bulgaria merchandise even through the mass of tents. The whole thing sparkles red.

"Hey!" Harry greets his friends, causing Hermione to jump. 

"Harry! Where have you been? We haven't seen you since we got here." She frets over his glasses, still askew from ducking and dodging sparklers. 

"And what are you wearing?" Ron asks, aghast. he'd been eyeing the Bulgaria scarves.

"Oh, never mind that we were looking for you." Hermione continues to fret, sounding an awful lot like Mrs. Weasley, while Ron glares at Harry's gaudy Irish pride-wear. Truth be told, he'd forgotten he still had it on.

"I was just getting water for the soup." It's part of the truth. "Seamus gave me this, I didn't exactly want to say no. The Irish are scary when they're excited."

This distracts them. "Soup?" Ron's face pales slightly, "You mean, dad's cooking?"

"Yeah, is that bad or something? He said he wasn't that good but . . .?"

"Be afraid Harry, be very afraid."

-

The soup went mostly untouched, which was probably a good thing seeing as it was an odd green-ish colour despite containing only carrots, beef and potatoes and some herbs, nothing that should've resulted in that colour. In Harry's opinion, it even slightly resembled the polyjuice that he, Hermione and Ron had brewed only a year and a half ago. He thinks Hermione saw it too because she exchanged a glance with Ron as he passed her the salad.

Only Fred was brave enough to try it after a dare from his twin and younger sister. He's looking a little green now, but he braves the steep arena steps without complaint.

Behind them, Harry, Ron, and Hermione munch on the snacks Harry and Hermione bought from the souvenir cart, hiding them behind their backs when Mr Weasley looks back to ensure they're still following.

As they reach the next landing a new group of wizards join them. With their neat black clothing and nearly white hair, there is no mistaking them.

"Bloody Malfoy," Ron grumbles through a mouthful of Crowley's Crackle N' Pop Crisps.

The elder Malfoys don't seem to hear Narcissa and Lucius chatting superficially with Mr. Weasley, but the youngest turns around, sneering.

"Yes, Weasley."

"Sod off, Malfoy," Rons says, words still slightly muffled.

Draco just laughs, a high and sharp sound, and turns around without a word. If Harry hadn't been watching him so closely he would've missed the wink and slightest nod of his head towards a lower platform.

The group starts walking again, and both Ron and Hermione look expectantly at Harry, usually, he would've said something to Darco by now, some insult or another, but after hearing Mr. Malfoy in the woods, the words don't come easily. Certainly, they're there, he knows in his head exactly what to say. 'Yeah, sod off, you slimy git!' but it seems so unnecessary a response to what was barely an insult.

Still, it would seem weird if he, a boy known for standing up for his friends, did nothing so he mutters "Arse." just loud enough for Draco to hear but not his parents.

A moment later, as they reach the Minister's box, Harry hears the quietest whisper, "Like my arse, do you, Potter?" The continuation of their joke from earlier makes Harry nearly choke on his crisps with laughter. 

"You fucking wish, Malfoy," he says, the laughter disguising his words just enough. The adults give him funny looks.

"Enjoying yourself, Mr. Potter." Minister Fudge says amicably.

Harry sputters, trying to compose himself. "Oh, er, yes. This is such a wonderful event that you and Mr. Bagman have put together."

The Weasleys and Draco glance at him, the statement is clearly out of character, but both the minister and the Head of the Magical Games and Sports Department are pleased with the flattery.

"Indeed. May the best team win." Bagman cheers, but it isn't hard to tell who he's cheering for. Fudge seems to notice this as well, as he quickly tugs Bagman's flashing team scarf off, trying to maintain composure.

"Take that thing off, Ludo. We're supposed to be impartial." he hisses, before returning to his chat with the Irish minister.

"Hey, it was a gift from him." Bagman points carelessly to the Bulgarian Minister sitting a few seats over, making conversation with Lucius Malfoy. "How was I to tell him I can't take it? He doesn't speak a word of English."

Harry looks behind him to find that the Weasley boys have already scattered around to the railing, preoccupied with the omnioculars Harry bought for himself and Ron. Hermione, meanwhile, is in an odd position.

She sits on her knees, backward on one of the chairs, looking down between the rows.

Understandably curious, Harry walks over. "Hermione, what are you doing?"

"This is Winky," Hermione says, clearly distressed.

"Winky? What the hell is a 'Winky'?"

-

The green fireworks are brilliant, but no one is looking at them anymore. Everyone's eyes have been drawn down towards the field where about ten women dance. They're majestic, supernatural, extraterrestrial, and Harry has no earthly idea why but they remind him of Draco. Maybe it's their dazzling white blonde hair or the elegance with which they move. He can't think of the reason. He can't think much of anything right now.

The next thing he registers is a hand grabbing his wrist and pulling him away and down a set of stairs. He wants to protest. He doesn't want to stop watching the dancing women. He feels like were he to do so, something horrible would happen though he can't think of what.

As he's pulled, Harry turns back for a second and sees the other young men in a similar trance-like state, while the older gentleman politely looks away. He sees Hermione, unphased and still trying to console the drunken elf as she covers her large ears against the chants.

He whines when the dancing women disappear from his sight entirely.

A slender finger flicks his nose and the warm fuzzy feeling dissolves, or rather fades, not gone just diminished. 

"Oh, stop drooling, Potter. You're surrounded by much prettier girls every day." Draco, it seems, hasn't missed a beat, his tone is sarcastic as usual.

Absently, Harry notes that the resemblance between Draco and the women has increased in the dark spot under the stairs. His hair seems to glow, lighting the small space. But it's only for a second, and then it's gone. 

'Probably just all the arena's lighting charms anyway.'

Harry rolls his shoulders and stands up. He hadn't realised how slouched over he'd been, watching the women. He feels a little sick from the trance like he'd been drugged. His head swims and he grabs onto the closet thing he can find which is, of course, Draco Malfoy.

Draco blushes. Harry doesn't notice. 

"'The actual bloody fuck was that? What are those things? I was about to . . ." Harry searches for the right words, sifting through the memories tinted by the fuzzy glow, "Jump off the railing or something. Thanks for getting me out of there." He can still hardly believe what he'd been about to do.

"Yes, and I just saved your life, Potter, now you owe me now. You were acting like even more of an idiot than usual."

'Like I wouldn't do anything for you.'

"Obviously." Harry grits his teeth, embarrassed about his reaction. He risks a glance back at the women, but they look entirely different now, snarling, with bony wings piercing through their backs like Renaissance paintings of fallen angels. The fuzzy feeling is gone, replaced by disgust. 

Yet even now, it makes Harry uneasy, like they're something that could be used to distract the masses during an attack. But of course, thoughts like that are merely a side effect of constantly being hunted. Still, Harry jabs an accusatory thumb at the bird-like creatures and asks, "What. The hell. Are they?"

Draco looks almost like he wants to laugh, but then thinks better of it, seadying Harry and explaining calmly. "They're Veela."

"And Veela are?" Harry prompts, a little angry, though he's not sure why. Every other male and a few females were doing just the same as him, all heart eyes and open mouths.

"Veela are one of the few hundred species of humanoid magical creatures. Most of the time they appear as beautiful people, but their true form is that." Draco frowns down at the screeching creatures. "It comes out whenever they get angry or are preparing to attack prey. Don't worry they won't attack now, they're just throwing a tantrum."

"You can understand them?" Harry asks.

Draco ignores the question, pressing on with his textbook-like explanation, "They also go by the name 'Sirens' or 'Harpies'. They're the less prevalent but more violent cousins of the Water Sirens, also known as Merpeople. They're also somewhat connected to the fae evolutionary line. Some live in forests, some live in coastal areas, and some are nomadic. No matter where they live, they enchant prey, lure them, and then go in for the kill. Bulgaria's mascots are female, so they didn't work on me. Obviously."

Harry rolls his eyes, "Let me guess, I was in the hospital wing when we learnt this?"

Draco laughs, "No." then he hesitates, "Actually I only so much because they're part of our family history." He doesn't continue, looking suddenly wary.

"Oh, did your family like to fight with them for land or something?" Harry asks, thinking that this is something Hermione would find more fascinating, or perhaps distressing given her reaction to Winky's treatment.

Draco looks slightly offended, "Who do you think we are, Harry, some band of pillaging thieves."

" . . . Well, we are British."

Draco cocks his head, not understanding the reference to muggle museums that Harry had been dragged to on the occasions Mrs. Fig couldn't take him.

"No, the Malfoy family has always had excellent relationships with magical creatures. Actually . . . my mother is half Veela." He waits, studying Harry's face, waiting for him to make an expression of disgust like he what he gave the creatures earlier.

But Harry is silent, a thoughtful look on his face. He doesn't know what to think, but he knows that it must have taken a lot for Draco to tell him this, to reveal that the supporting pillar of his superiority complex is a lie.

Maybe Harry should feel like his world has been shaken by this revelation, he doesn't know. All he knows is that his first thought is 'That's really cool.' even though that's lame if you're older than 10.

'Potter actually taking time to consider something? This is bad, bad, bad.' Draco can feel himself beginning to shake.

But all Harry says is, "So you're not a pureblood?"

". . . Yes." The words are nearly inaudible amidst the cheers and jeers of the rabid audience around them. After a second Draco speaks up again. "Father doesn't talk about it. Mother doesn't do much either. Mother doesn't have the same mother as her sister. Her father had a short relationship with the Veela who would become her mother when he was in France for his travels. But the Veela didn't want a child or a family, she was a nomadic forest dweller, a friend of the fae, so she left my mother in the care of my Grandad, who was heartbroken. I've never met my mother's mother, but at least Grandad's wife is nice. Mother says it's important to know about your history so we visit Grandad in France a lot. Dad doesn't come." The last part is said quietly.

Harry has the sudden urge to hug Draco but doubts that Draco would enjoy that even if the boy looks sadder than he's ever seen. He does nothing for a moment, then, "I'm sorry."

"I don't need your pity, Golden Boy." The words lack vitriol, and then gathering his composure, Draco finishes his explanation. "Since Veela are so rare, they don't get talked about much. They're sort of controversial. It's kind of a 'Wizards leave them alone and they leave wizards alone' thing."

"Oh, good to know, I guess?" Harry eyes the hissing creatures as ministry officers escort them from the field. They go less than willingly.

"There isn't too much known about them, and they like it that way. Most wizards, unless they're researchers, never meet one. Professor Quirrel told us he did, but . . ."

Both boys snort.

"Yeah, he probably wasn't the most reliable, after all, he had a lot going on in his head."

With the terrible pun, they descend fully into ache-inducing laughter, not noticing the players of both teams racing onto the field for introductions.

The boys turn to watch the ceremony silently.

Even with the deafening noise, it's still too quiet. Harry's ears ring.

"Have you ever been to a game like this?" It's a stupid question. 'Of course, he has. What's wrong with you?' Harry mentally smacks himself.

Draco doesn't look at him like he's stupid, or scoff, surprisingly. He just nods. "Yes. I sit somewhere in a box like the ministers by myself while Father schmoozes."

'That's sad.' Harry thinks, watching Ireland's chasers without really seeing them. It's getting too loud again, and the feeling of foreboding is back.

"Can you tell me about them? The games, I mean." 'Anything, really. Just to fill the silence, just to make this ringing stop.'

Draco nods and launches off into the story of the latest Magpie's game he attended. His words are coloured with rare smiles. And Harry watches him, taking every one of those smiles in as if he'll never see it again. Maybe he won't.

'He looks so different.'

And when Harry looks away, back to the game he so loves, allowing Draco's voice to blend into the background, it's Draco's turn to stare.

'He never looks at me for long. Like it hurts him to stay in one place for more than a few minutes. Is that because of He-who-must-not-be-named?' He sighs.

Meanwhile, Harry is more than a little annoyed with himself, for paying so little attention to his favourite game when this is probably his one chance to go to an event like this. He barely notices when Draco passes him a pair of Omnoculars he brought from home. He takes them wordlessly.

Events like these are regular occurrences for Draco so he takes this opportunity to stare at Harry unabashedly.

'He's so still now, focused. Merlin, he's something when he concentrates. Summer holiday almost made me forget. But more than anything, he looks at peace, content, and happy. I could never make him look like that, not when the last war drags behind my name like one of Mother's capes. I don't even know what Mother and Father's part in it was and yet that is all he'll ever see when he looks at me. Should I ask him? Would he tell me?'

-

The boys watch in silence for a while longer. Harry watching the field and Dracow watching Harry. But it isn't long before they get talking again, at first about the plays and then about home, or in Harry's case, the Burrow, and then about school.

Harry stops himself just as he almost mentions Sirius. He wants to, so badly he wants to, he's never wanted to tell anyone about his secret so much before. 

'The Malfoy's are related to the Blacks, right?' Harry remembers seeing the two names together when he was searching for Nicholas Flammel in first year. 'That would make Sirius, Draco's cousin. He wouldn't rat out his own cousin, would he? But then there's Snape . . . that complicates things. The Malfoys are close with Snape who hates my father, and Professor Lupin and probably anyone who knew them. Does that carry over? I know they'd hate my muggle-born mother, or at least Mr Malfoy would, but Sirius is a pureblood. No, better safe than sorry. Even if Draco wouldn't snitch his father might force him to, and then the ministry would catch Sirius.'

With Harry's hesitation, the conversation comes back to the topic both boys have been avoiding. How could it not when thoughts of Voldemort swirl violently in both of their heads?

Draco's face darkens. "Harry . . ." He says his first name hesitantly, worriedly, so different from the affectionate 'Potter' that's become a nickname.

Shyness isn't a trait Harry has seen in the Slytherin boy since he first approached him in the Library in second year. It looks wrong on him. Harry looks up, meeting grey eyes with his own green ones. Hoping to stare as intensely as Draco does, though he doubts he will succeed.

"Yes, Draco." Whatever it is Harry just wants him to just spit it out instead of fumbling around the bush. The feeling of bad things on the horizon has Harry on edge, he doesn't want to waste time

"H-has your scar been hurting, or anything like that?" Draco looks down as he says it.

"What?"

"You heard me." Draco snaps, then softer, the desperation he's worked so hard to hide leaking into his tone, "Please don't make me ask again."

"Oh, okay. . . . Yes. How did you know?"

"It's just that you mentioned last year that it hurt whenever He-who-must-not-be-named was near."

"Yeah, I did say that." There's something in Draco's voice that has Harry on edge. He's heard him jealous, annoyed, angry, smug, joyous, but never like this, never so devastatingly afraid.

"Have you noticed anything off lately . . . like any signs?" The question is vague, and they both know it.

"Signs? Like on the road? You know I'm only 14, I can't drive yet, not that the Dursleys would let me." The sass is only meant to fill the silence. The words dissolve into the thick air, almost as if they were never said.

"It's just that . . . I . . ." He stops, opening and closing his mouth a few times only for no sound to come out. The air is thick enough with sparklers and shouts to wrap itself around you and squeeze the air right from your lungs.

"Look, Draco, whatever it is, you can say it to me. I've gotten great at keeping secrets, and if it's about Voldemort I need to know!"

Draco flinches at the name, at Harry's sudden intensity, but nods, exhaling heavily, "I think something is going on, a-and I-I think it has something to do with my father."

Harry's eyes widened. "Your father?" But it isn't hard for him to believe. He saw how easily he'd slipped that book into Ginny's caldron that day, even if he hadn't noticed the practised motions at first. But Draco is his friend, he doesn't want him to have an evil father, impossible as it may be for him to do anything about it.

Draco's lip trembles. He knows it too. He didn't see the slip happen, but he heard whispers at home about the monster deep in the bowels of the castle, heard enough to slip the page to Hermione in the library. He knows, even if he wishes he didn't, even if he wishes he could unhear everything and be happy again like when he was younger. He knows, and as much as anyone would like there's no way he can't.

"Yes." He doesn't continue, not trusting himself to hold it together. He curses the weakness internally.

Harry waits, trying as best he can to tamp down the reflexes that tell Draco to spit it out and listen patiently. When he sees that words are failing him he decides to go first.

"You know, I've been having this dream, but it doesn't feel like a dream." It's the first time he's told anyone, "It feels like I'm really there, like somehow I'm seeing something through someone else's eyes, but I have no idea whose, and no idea why. The dreams are different every night, but they always have the same few things. A snake, and this man who looks about a half step up from complete madness. And they're plotting to kill someone . . . I think they're plotting to kill me."

Draco's looking at him now, focused and thoughtful, calming down. 'Good. I don't like seeing him so worked up, it's wrong.' So Harry continues.

"The latest one was an old house. The Riddle Estate, his estate . . ."

-

When Harry finishes Draco doesn't look calm. He looks even more panicked before, hands gripping the railing so hard his knuckles turn white. He pushes it down, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, calming himself before he speaks.

"So you think that he's back." He doesn't even want to say it aloud.

"I don't know what to think. I thought he was gone in the first year, then his diary came back, but the diary was destroyed so he shouldn't be able to, and yet . . ."

Darco nods, looking out at the crowd. 'All those people, thousands of people . . .' He tries to imagine the size of the crowd with all the muggle-borns, and half-bloods gone. It doesn't look good.

"Father has been talking about an event to happen at school this year, but there have been . . . other things as well." He can't look at Harry.

"Other things?" Harry has to prompt Draco again. It's like he can't make himself say the words like he's too afraid that will make it all real.

"He's had these people over."

"What people?" Oddly, as Draco keeps talking Harry grows more patient, not less, maybe because he can see the other boy fraying at the edges, a singular thought eating at him.

'I knew my father wasn't a kind man, but is he an evil one?'

"I- I don't know but they all wear these big black cloaks, like dementors. They go to the basement and lock the door, but I can hear them through the vent in my room. The things they talk about, Harry . . ." It's the second time today he's used Harry's first name, only about the third time ever. "Horrible things. Making Hogwarts more selective is one thing, but torture is-" a sob cuts him off, "I- I think my father is a murderer . . . I think he's one of them! And I think they're planning to do something tonight!" 

Draco crumples in on himself. Normally he looks older than Harry, so much more mature, and polished, but now he's just a 14-year-old boy who doesn't want a monster for a father. He might like to play at it with his friends, but he doesn't want anything to do with real evil.

Harry is deeply confused. "One of whom, Malfoy? Do what?" He feels the slightest bit awkward using Draco's surname after Draco hadn't used his.

"Death Eaters, Potter, Death Eaters. Don't tell me you don't know!" He sobs again, distraught, face buried in his hands.

Harry doesn't know. He doesn't know what Death Eaters are. He doesn't know what to do with the sobbing boy at his feet.

"I don't." he says stupidly, feeling less like 'The Chosen One' than ever. He's said a lot of stupid things today. 'Another pattern.' he thinks bitterly.

This only makes Draco sob harder. "They're his followers, Harry. Who else would they be!?" The words are thick under the tears. Harry doesn't need any more clarification. The dream invades his mind again, the gardener once again falling at his feet, eyes still wide in shock from whatever reptilian creature he saw in that chair before his untimely death.

Struggling to blink away the green, Harry kneels down, levelling with Draco. Normally he's the paranoid one, and Ron is assuring him that nobody is trying to kill him. "Uh, look, Mal- er Dr- Malfoy, thanks for telling me, but even if he is a Death eater, Voldemort is dead, there'd be no point in trying to follow a dead guy. . . . And this event has got loads of security, like everywhere. There's no way anything could happen." It isn't comforting, and Harry knows it. He doesn't even believe what he's just said, after all, Hogwarts is the most protected place in England and Voldemort already got in once.

Obviously, Draco isn't comforted, but neither boy needs to mention that, so he just sinks further into himself. Then after a while, Draco looks up, his face like a small child, "Are you going to tell anyone?"

He should. He knows it. But with Draco looking at him so desperately he can only ask, "Do you want me to?"

Draco shakes his head, then nods, "I don't know."

'He's still Draco's father. Would it be better to have an evil father than no father at all? I'll never know, but we shouldn't rush into this. His father is a respected member of the Ministry, an accusation would likely be dismissed unless there was heaps of proof. I doubt some suspicious meeting would get it.' Harry feels as if he's been momentarily possessed by Hermione with how much careful thinking he's done today.

'What would Hermione do? Hermione would want to give someone the benefit of the doubt. She'd gather as much evidence as she could, analyse it, and then make a conclusion. The Scientific Method. But if there really is to be some sort of attack tonight, then we haven't got much time. And with the way Mr. Malfoy looked at Draco earlier . . . like if he couldn't be useful he shouldn't exist at all. I didn't like it. Having him spy would be definatley dangerous.' He doesn't know exactly why or exactly when the thought of Draco getting hurt became so utterly off the table, the same as Ron or Hermione.

"Okay, erm, I believe you. But let's just take this slow. We need proof. And he's still your dad, so-"

"I know that!" The words are supposed to sound biting, Harry thinks, but Draco's voice is too broken.

Before Harry registers his movement he's against Draco, arms encircling the crying boy, pulling him closer, as if only Harry's arms could keep him safe. 

Draco freezes, then leans into it. They stay like that for a while, neither of them knowing how to end the contact without seeing the awkward look that must surely be on the other's face. Eventually, they do separate, both blushing, and both ignoring it. Wordlessly, Harry helps the still-stiff Draco back to his feet.

Footsteps behind them make both boys freeze like deer in headlights, but it's just an old woman and a young girl.

'Aren't they who Percy was yelling at earlier?'

"Oh, no need to stop on my account," she assures them as she walks by, smiling sweetly as she lets her granddaughter lead them back to their seats.

At this, the boys spring apart, as if having just touched hot metal.

"Sorry." Harry offers dumbly. "It's just Hermione, she likes to be hugged when she's upset, and Ron always hugs Hermione and me so I thought- Whatever."

Draco nods but gives no more response.

The two don't touch again, standing an awkward distance, too close for enemies but not close enough for friends. Strangers.

[prydainroyals]

Dear Alice: Part 3

(Continued from here.)

---

"There's also Commander Murray, who likes it when we call him 'James' while not on duty. I'm almost certain the man is as tall as a tree. He's a brilliant fitness coach. Bit of a hardass, but he still manages to make it fun. He just won't let you be miserable unless you really need to take a break."

"And he's basically the base's Mum? He fusses over us and I'd wager he volunteers to be a sort of Morale Officer when he's stationed here. He loves organising group activities, which drives me bonkers sometimes, but at the end of the day, I'm really grateful. We have a spare storage room in the bunker part of the base he turned into a makeshift cinema, with a big sheet, a projector, fairy lights and everything."

"He's given me advice on things too. Not just about the Navy, but about life in general. I worry about being out of touch with actual, real people... but he's about as real as they come. Kind as he is, the Commander won't sugarcoat things. He'll tell you off if you need telling off, and he actually listens to you. As in, YOU, not... your position or titles or whatever, though he takes stock of those too. I dunno how he does it. I wonder who he talks to when he needs someone to listen? Maybe he gets something out of talking to all of us. It's not my business, I know, but I can't help but marvel at what sort of person has the strength to keep on giving like that. He and Harry are a lot alike in that regard."

"I imagine they're the sort of people who lean on each other. I'd hate to think they do so much for everyone while they go it alone."

"...and aaaaall across the field, speckled like diamonds, Harry... Oh, you would never believe it, lad..."

"What? What was it? You have me in suspense!"

"Toilets. Toilets everywhere."

Harry snorted and laughed in that good-mannered but knowing way of his. That way that said he knew someone was full of it, but he wasn't actually offended.

"Oh come off it!" he smiled. "There's no possible way you could have unbolted fifty toilets, transported them to the pitch, and strewn them all over without being caught," he pointed out.

"Certainly not without flooding the school in the process," Harry added.

"Of course not! We were keen enough to pay off the custodial staff with the money we'd pooled together. You have to remember: Mother Superior Florence was a terrible woman. It was a group effort. The younger Sisters stood by us, even."

Harry snorted again at such a fantastical story, and James sat back, his expression glowing with pride at a well-spun yarn.

"Alright, fine, enough with my silly stories," James relented, eyes still twinkling. "Tell me how you're getting on with Henry. How's he been?"

Harry's look of amused incredulity softened, his smile grew until it crinkled at the corners of his deep, dark eyes. He adored and missed his fiance, but wasn't always sure when it was the right time to talk about him.

"O-oh! He's well, thank you for asking," Harry bashfully answered. "We're well, actually. It can be difficult, having a relationship long-distance like this, but... we're managing, I think," he explained.

"I won't be up here forever, and much as I love assisting with the research and medical needs of this outpost... I do want to go home."

James gave a serious nod in response. "I know how hard it can be, trying to maintain a relationship across a tundra and at least one ocean. If you ever need to talk about anything, Harry, you can come to me about it. Alright?"

Harry's eyes looked so tired, but so grateful.

"Of course. And... and you can talk to me, James. I know you must miss Ethan terribly."

James blinked in surprise at the mention of his late husband, having honestly forgotten he'd confided in Harry about the anniversary of Ethan's death over a year ago. His posture slumped a little in resigned defeat, but his own smile softened, his bravado melting away to express gratitude of his own.

"... yeah. Yeah, every day. I'll be keeping that in mind. Thank you, Harry."

---

—

Interlude continued.

Happy Pride Month. <3

Fun fact: Commander Murray is a distant cousin of Arthur's, through Arthur's mother's family.

- - -

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[kitsune-oji]

Hiii! I love your blog and saw that you're requests are open. I wanted to ask if you could write some hcs about Diavolo having a crush on someone? What would he be like? Would there be a difference between a demon or a human? Would he pursue them quickly? How would the confession go? I hope that's specific enough and I hope you know what I mean. Thanks for doing what you're doing and have a great day🌸

Diavolo having a Crush

Thank you so much! Did you know my Blog before I deleted it back then? Otherwise I'd be a bit confused by how you'd be able to like it so much already haha-

Anyway, I hope this is what you were looking for!

Pairing: Diavolo x unnamed character/reader

Warnings: none!

A Crush on Another Demon

Diavolo having a crush on another demon always brings along with it the struggles of being not only a prince but the crown prince himself

If the demon Diavolo has a crush on is someone of higher standing - that means someone who can allow themself to possibly talk to him casually if he says it's alright, though it still wouldn't be on equal footing - then Diavolo may entertain the idea of actually having a future with them

If the demon is a regular citizen, then it really depends on how great the crush is because it will be a loooooot of work for Diavolo to be able to pursue them for something serious

I imagine, since he is a demon prince and their ideas of modesty are a bit different than those of humans, that he could have flings with pretty much any demon he wants. The problem is only when he actually has feelings for them and wants to "date" them (which could possibly proof to be a bit hard since as the heir, he will be pushed to marry, so instead of dating they'd probably be engaged for the demons to acknowledge their relationship)

Anyway!! How would he act in that situation?

Since it's a fellow demon, Diavolo would try to court them in a traditional way. He's a draconian type demon, so it's a good thing that he is so wealthy and powerful because...

He will try to show his crush how powerful he is! Power is attractive, after all. Be it carrying very and I mean very heavy things for/around them or even fighting in duels hoping they will watch, he'll do his best to showcase his abilities. The expectant, hopeful look in his eyes when he tries to see how they react is pretty adorable, actually

Bonus: if his crush is a demon who enjoys fighting, he will duel them himself to show them his strength

He will endavour to show them his wealth. With everything he has, he can give them so much, he can provide for them and promise them a live without worries - at least when it come to money and social standing. Expensive gifts, to the point of ridiculousness, will be offered to his crush. They talk about wanting some peace and quiet? Here, they can have this island if they want to, hell even build a mansion on it and hire servants so they can just lean back and relax whenever they want!

That being said, Diavolo will also make sure to adorn himself with his wealth. Rare gems and crystals and gold chains on his upper body, revealing more than they cover just so he can make sure they see his prowess, his muscles. Never forget, his sin is pride

In actual interaction with them, Diavolo tries to be subtle but elegant. Yet, his favoritism is obvious to everyone, even his crush if they're not very oblivious

A Crush on a Human

Now, I hope you read the first part up there because the problem is similar but just a tiny bit... different

You see, since his crush is a human, Diavolo won't really have to worry about social standing but he will have to worry about the fact that he has a crush on a being that most demons only describe as "delicious" at best and "undeserving of life" at worst

If we think of this happening during/after the exchange program and it's success, then he definitely has better chances at pursuing them without much backlash

Now, if it were up to him, he'd court his human crush just like a demon crush but that.. doesn't work too well

He knows that humans are different in many ways, so he tries to research the proper way to approach a relationship with one before he makes a move

Since witnessing a fight could scare his human, Diavolo will try to stick to more casual ways but because situations for that happen so seldomly, he will most likely come up with some random "game" in the name of strengthening unity and teamwork but actually he just wants his crush to look at him and marvel at his muscles

Showcasing his wealth will pretty much go the same, unless his generous gifts are too overwhelming for his crush, then he will try to dial it down and figure out what they need or like instead

His indecency won't change much, however. If it manages to fluster his crush, he would be delighted

Now, in personal interaction, Diavolo will be very gentle and offer them protection, even if they're a powerful sorcerer or witch. He wants them to be safe and honestly, he's a bit worried over them. If this annoys them and they show him just how powerful they are on their own, Diavolo will be astonished but it will only make him desire them more

In general

Diavolo would take his time in trying to show his crush what he can give them if they were to become his partner. Dates, gifts and displaying his might are mandatory before he asks them if they would consider being with him

However, he will state his intentions fairly soon, so there will be no confusion about his actions

Personally, he wants his confession to be during a date, where he can set up the perfect atmosphere and completely wow his crush, so that they wouldn't even think about saying no and yet

It is much more likely that he will end up confessing in the spur of a moment. At some point, it will just feel like the right time, even if they're just going over documents or walking down the streets of devildom on an errand or something

Being rejected would sadden him greatly, of course, yet he wouldn't show it much, in fear of pressuring his crush to say something they don't mean. He wants them to be able to be completely honest with him and tell him their opinion and at least that they rejected him means that they trust him enough to do so. He will need some time to get his bearings afterwards and since he now stopped his advances as well, Diavolo won't see them for quite a while. Throwing himself into work helps a bit and Barbatos has to even drag him away from the desk for once in his life. After he has grieved enough, Diavolo will act as polite and kind as ever towards the person he had a crush on, but he will be a bit more distant, just to keep his feelings safe

If his crush returns his feelings, Diavolo will be over the moon, hug them and spin them around if he's allowed and immediately begin preparing for a huge party/ball to celebrate - unless of course his partner does not feel comfortable with that, "but would at least a little one be ok?" After the start of their new relationship, Diavolo will keep showing his affections similarly to before, with gifts and dates, but he will also be much more free and deliberate with physical contact, at least as far as his love is comfortable with as well

[soobberries]

I want to hear your thoughts on something- ot5! voyeurism. Who do you think would be into it?

I cannot get this image out of my head: one member (bf? fwb? or maybe you're just a groupie(?)) sits behind you, his legs on top of yours to keep your legs wide open. He's got one arm around you to keep you pressed against him, while his free hand is busy stretching you out with his fingers as his four bandmates are stroking their cocks, focused on watching the way your cunt is slick, dripping with your arousal with lust-filled eyes.

One of them will prob whip out his phone and start filming to send it in the gc & rewatch later because they don't want to forget the pretty noises you make, both from your core and your lips, as well as how hot you look with a fucked out expression.

Ofc leads to a very messy sixsome. 👍

LMFAO I am soooo sorry abt the way I wrote this, I am very clearly not a smut writer, but I needed to get this out because my brain is having a meltdown 🥴🫠 accept my sincerest apologies 🤲

POHEW. Not a messy sixome >insert that thirsty emoji since I'm on my laptop and lazy to pull it out<

Please don't apologise for how you wrote this! I'm no true smut write myself so I can't say I'd do a better or worse job hehe~! Either way I'm just excited to share these ideas of course!

Hmm now let me think... I feel as though many of us are to an extent, voyeurs... I mean if you have to just think in simple terms of the consumption of porn and such. Plus if we want to give some level of validation to your scenario, we'd have to assume that they are all voyeurs, so let me discuss the scenario seperately to the general question of who I'd think is into it.

I also mentioned in a different ask that in theory someone can be really into something but in practice, not really. While I won't go into specifics like that other post, realistically, only one of them would be okay with true voyeurism...and i also don't know who it would be... Anyway being too realistic is boring so in a general sense, who's super into it?

I'd say resident weebs Soobin and Huening! Beomgyu closely after. The other two seem more possessive and while they'd be into watching you play with yourself, they don't seem to be into watching someone else play with you, get what I mean?

Now moving on, lets assign who's who in your lovely scenario hehe.

Idk my mind is so set on the person with their fingers being inside you being Taehyun lmao. We all know Taehyun is lowkey beefy so having his muscular arms and legs hold you down? sounds hot. Beomgyu is recording... It could be Kai but I just feel he'd be too focused on watching Taehyun's fingers slipping inside of you, mesmerised by how it seems to disappear so effortlessly, thinking about what it must feel like to have his own fingers inside.

I can't work out the logistics but I'd say it would make most sense to be fwb with Taehyun, and he openly shares your sexual escapades with the other members. And lets say you're friends with all of them to some extent or at least acquainted somehow... You at least have disgustingly obvious sexual tension with two of them (I'm betting on Kai and Beomgyu. Those two are just... intense.) Then of course after hearing about your sexual encounters on the occasion from Taehyun, as well as actually hearing you in the literal sense when Taehyun is fucking the living daylights outta you, the other two can't help but let their minds wonder on occasion. Perhaps one had a lewd dream about and the other secretly masturbated to your sounds one frustrating night lmao.

Either way Taehyun is definitely a little shit, enough to the extent that he'd bask in taunting the other members as well as you by playing with you in front of them.

It's easy to picture him dragging lets say Kai and Soobin (them being the most likely to take part in something like this without their pride getting in the way like Gyu and Yeonjun) to watch you since they were ever so curious. He'd ask you about the ordeal before, and ignoring the awkward glances and scoffs exchanged between you, Kai, and Soobin, unsure about what to do when actually faced with the situation, he'd order you to strip down and get on his lap.

Plus Taehyun manspread>>> ahem, anyway.

Once your situated on his lap, he pulls your legs apart, not really considering how embarrassing the whole thing would be for you, sticking his knees behind yours to secure the position, using his arms to pull you close to his chest, his lips trailing gentle kisses against your neck as he reaches down to rub circles on your clit.

Even if you were embarrassed, with the position and the way it feels to have him touch you, as well as the dazed stares of the other two, you'd be far too gone to really focus in on that feeling.

The other two, both with puzzled expressions, zoning in on your clit initially trying to get a grasp of everything, simultaneously being impressed by how well Taehyun knows your body as well as trying to explain why their pants suddenly feel so fucking tight. Taehyung would tighten one arm around your waist, leaving soft bites on your neck, and whispering all sorts of things to you "Are you extra wet because the others are watching?" "Feels like you're extra sensitive to my touch with an audience. He'd focus on you a lot more than the guys but he won't rule them out in that situation.

He'd probably call out their bulges and call them idiots if they don't plan to take this opportunity to touch themselves. Anyway I'm sure Kai is the first to pull his dick out, absolutely dazed by everything.

Then after some toying, Taehyun gets a second finger in no time,, starting to hit you're favourite spots, causing you to arch into him. Obviously hearing the ruckus the other two would get curious and even if they're taken aback by the site before them: Soobin and Kai touching themselves at the site of you crumbling against Taehyun's fingers, they'd simply lose sense of logic sooner or later, standing by the doorframe feeling themselves get turned on too.

Beomgyu, being first to pop out his camera, Yeonjun being the first to approach you directly kneeling down in front of you, ready to probably eat you out or at least ask Taehyun if he can put his fingers inside you, eager to see if he could also get you to make those same sounds you were just making.

Yeonjun's fingers and mouth busy themselves against you while Taehyun pulls you closer to him while he sucks on your neck and ruts his hips into your back, Beomgyu filming from the doorway as he rubs his bulge with his free hand. Once Soobin sees Yeonjun joining, he wills himself to move forward and attach his lips to your nipple and use his other hand to play with the other. Kai is the only one that remains dazed at the site, happily being satisfied without touching you for now.

I mean your senses at this point... how much will you truly process when there's already three men al up against you, making it their mission to just make you feel good.

it's putting a different meaning to tomorrow x together for sure...

Idk when it happens exactly but once you cum once, Taehyun for sure tells you to move so he can get rid of his pants, and when you stand this is the opportunity that Kai takes to simply come make out with you, maybe he'd take your hand and place it on his dick, hoping you'd help him. Yeonjun is experimenting with you still, basking in the way you squeeze around his fingers, and Soobin is in boob heaven so they're staying busy. Taehyun wouldn't hesitate to pull you back into his lap, shooing Yeonjun away so that he can fuck you like he wants to. Yeonjun doesn't even care much though, he's so fixated on your expressions instead, he may go help Beomgyu out if he's feeling fruity though idk... Beomgyu has been filming but he has to put the phone down at some point to focus purely on getting himself off... Then again when he sees what you look like with Taehyun's cock inside of you, he suddenly has this urge to also want to be inside of you...

Eh... I'm sure they figure out some way to take turns... He may opt to just shove his cock in your mouth though if the position allows for it.

Well as for the rest... I may have to consider actually becoming a smut writer and write the whole thing out hehe!

Thanks for sharing your lovely insights~!^^

[seoness]

Hi! I love your writing so much!

This question may be silly, but I was wondering if you think Sandor often feels lonely? Of course his scar alienates him quite a bit, and he doesn’t seem shy to mention that he’s a fierce man that loves killing. He seems very hostile and antisocial, but in the books it also seems like he’s often seeking out Sansa. Even if it’s to antagonize her, it looks like he feels the need to seek someone out and talk to them. He also talks a lot more than the show version, not exclusively to Sansa either.

Varys mentions that he gambles and goes to winesinks too. You’re always going to be in the company of others if you go to places like that, right? At the same time, he doesn’t seem to have any friends. What do you think? Is he lonely and trying to make connections in his own way, or does he not care to? Do you think it could be somewhere in the middle or something else entirely?

My assumption is that maybe he thinks it’s not a possibility for him. At the same time, he can be reasonably social, like at Joffrey’s nameday celebration. I was curious to know what you think!

So to figure this out we need to delve into his entire mindset. Sandor's worldview is simple and not entirely unfounded and he holds it as truth. It's a point of pride for him, that he can see the world around him for what it truly is. It isn't what the mummers sing of. It isn't a place of legends and gallant knights, it is ugly and horrid. Violence is needed, it doesn't matter if it's right or wrong, it gets the job done and most men enjoy it. Some may scrounge their nose at spilling blood, but they still enjoy the bounty it brings. By Joffrey favoring him, he is also afforded the luxury of not adhering to all the norms while still being at court where everyone else tries their utmost to keep to them. So not only does he get to enjoy Lannister gold, but gets to bother some lordlings. He's seldom alone. Tyrion points out that the Hound rarely leaves Joffrey's side. It's why he goes to Varys who says he goes to winesinks, tumbles dice, and visits brothels.

He's not antisocial like his brother but he's no social butterfly either. Feared by most yet his martial skills surely would earn him a great deal of respect. At least from those of lower standing. Before the Starks, Sandor was content at being a thistle amongst roses at court. Meeting them cast his semblance of a life into a downfall.

Sandor is cruel, sure, but never senselessly like Gregor. He knows that. His demeanor, harsh and spiteful, isn't something that attracts people to befriend him and I think that is by design. Many in Westeros have gotten themselves a meeting with the Stranger from loving or caring for the wrong person. He was already betrayed by his brother and father, so he might be inclined to not seek out and try his luck again.

Yet the Starks burrowed themselves into him by triggering him. Not just Sansa. The entire brood. He came from a shit family, served a shit family and suddenly there's this family that lives in a fairytale world of honor and duty. I'd also wager he'd smell their incompetence in King's Landing politics a league away.

Sansa clearly annoys him the most. He mocks her for her beliefs. He offers guidance. He sexualizes her. Nothing really latches on. Because his interactions with Sansa aren't about her, it's about him. His worldview fits a maze. Walk down a certain path and you'll land with a certain outcome. Sansa is walking along a similar path as him, yet what if she doesn't see the world as him after everything that has happened? What if she doesn't adapt the same way he did? Not entirely unlikely, after all, a little bird isn't bound to the path of a maze. The first interactions with her were warning her of the path ahead, then they try to nudge her in some direction he views better. He offers shortcuts in an attempt for her to skip some of the more painful parts he knows are around the bend. All the while, he doesn't see that what he really doesn't want is for her to fly up and find an outlook he never did. That's why, I don't think his interactions with her are about sating his loneliness. It's to embolden it. Justify it.

When Joffrey offers him the Kingsguard position Sandor agrees and points out that he doesn't have a woman to leave behind. I, however, think it's a deeper loneliness that isn't solved by finding someone to warm his bed at night. If he truly was that desperate he could have plucked a willing woman from Flea Bottom. It's a loneliness that has been with him since birth, denied the love of a brother and the protection of a father, denied a future he could have had.

Sandor savors that he can "see the world for what it's truly like" yet is mostly passive in it. A tool for that fucked up world to use and has allowed himself to be only that. Well, mostly. The few times he acts of his own will he helps someone. When he tells Sansa at Blackwater that he'd lost everything, he's not necessarily lying, but in that everything he was nothing.

We can see this better in the books. His brokenness. He was captured when he was found sleeping off a drunk. When building the palisade he's paid in drink. When he stomps into the Crossroads Inn? It's in search of wine. It's much more clear that he's a traumatized man who hardened himself to survive, but by doing so became brittle and had no glue to keep him together apart from drink and simple pleasures.

[samuhelll]

rate your muse's traits 0-10.

compassion. 3/10. not very good. he's hard neutral and wants no business in the plight of others. that said, he doesn't enjoy watching people suffer, either.

bitterness. 9/10. he's afraid. he's bitter. he's resentful. he hates that he was ousted from the Spires. he hates that he has to compete against something like War and Pestilence, as if the cards weren't fatefully and immutably stacked against him from the start. he hates that everything he's trying to do is failing. he's afraid and terrified of dying, the threat and knowledge of it alarmingly close in the rearview mirror. he hates that his failure reflects an inadequacy on his part. sam is bitter, bitter, bitter.

happiness. 3/10. sam comes across loud, bombastic, vivacious, and full of life. he doesn't quite light up a room when he enters it so much as he's banging pots and pans, impossible to miss. some people might interpret that as he's happy, but i think it's easier to interpret it as someone playing a character? almost phony?

politeness. 4/10. sam can certainly be polite, but i don't think of sam as business or formally polite so much as not explicitly rude. that said, he is not afraid of causing a scene and he will yell at you in public.

pride. 5?/10. he won't take handouts and he vehemently hates perceived pity. simply: he doesn't think he's better than everyone. he just hates it when you think you're better than him. sam's also not above begging.

honesty. 3/10. he literally stays alive by manipulating people. a little higher on the scale because he rarely outright lies. he mostly just doesn't tell the whole truth. but this is very habitual, and only about serious things. he lies about little thing on the daily.

bravery. 2/10. sam is afraid. he's afraid of death but also of pain. physical pain, emotional pain. sam will turn his back and high tail it if he senses it on the horizon. he will sell you out if he has to.

recklessness. 6/10. i'd say sam actually errs more on the side of caution. he's not mastermind methodical, but he doesn't do anything on impulse. that said, just because he thinks about it doesn't mean it's not a bad idea. he'll know that and might still go ahead with it, too.

ambition. 3/10. i used to think of sam as ambitious, but he's not, really. at this point, and for a long time, he's been on fight-or-flight. he's just trying to survive.

loyalty. 3/10. he's went behind the back of everyone he's ever known at some point. generally, in a situation where he has to choose between him and you, he's looking out for numero uno.

love. 4/10. i'm putting him low on the rating here because, while i do see sam capable of love, or feeling love, and all the motions of love—acts of service, quality time—he'd probably be terrible at it in more fundamental ways. he's selfish and he isn't honest/isn't entirely forthright - two absolute deal-breakers for the majority of people, and rightly so. he also lacks foresight and may do things that harm his partner or, at least, greatly upset them. then he'll do it again.

sense of family. 2/10. he doesn't have a family in any sense of the word nor does he have any relationship that can be classified as familial.

attractiveness. 5 or 6/10. middling. he looks like an average middle-aged man. thinning hair and receding hairline, impossible-to-miss laugh lines. stick him in not-loud clothes, and i'd guess most people wouldn't bat an eye at or remember him. this is my assumption, anyway. i personally think bob is very handsome but what do i know lol

agility. 3/10. on a spectrum of agile to content-to-stay-on-the-couch/rigid-as-a-board, he leans towards the latter.

sex drive. 5 or 6/10. average. he wouldn't jump at any and all opportunities to sleep with someone, but he also wouldn't deny the opportunity with a practical stranger.

tagged by: @cartelheir ty! / tagging: @lcvnderhazed (any), @prvtocol, @abysswarden, @rottine, @ghoulishundertakings, @escapedartgeek, @allevils, @bloodykneestm (any)

[thesevenwondersofawitch]

The Brothers Sun e7

Damn, that was so clever having people kill the Boxers, June really took her job to heart, good for her

I love that the mom also brought tea😂

"The head of the Boxers must be so pissed right now." Man is panicking😂

"My time in the shadow is over."

"Shit, you go, girl! Hey what's yours." Good job TK, being a support dude

"Or or don't go, Girl!" The panic in Bruce's tone😂

The way the mom is literally asking her son who's given everything for her, to support her in her quest to become head of all crime. Wow. And he is gonna do it cause he's a good son 🥺

They're making a seating chart 😂

I like to think the goggly eye is a reference to Everything Everywhere All At Once

I too would have bad blood if someone lost my pet

TK asking Bruce to put in a good word with his family 😂

Yeah, TK is definitely not a good gangster 😂

Aw, the Mama's face🥺

Oooof, Bruce has snapped, and I can't blame him🥺

Aw, the way the mom recognizes that Bruce is a good friend for trying to keep TK away from everything, and how he'd rather his friend hate him than be put further in danger 🥺😭(but what if TK goes to the bad side?)

That's got to be hard for Charles to see how much his mom is protective of Bruce, but not of him🥺

Charles telling him mom he wants to stay, and her saying that a bakery is a great way to launder money😭 I WAS SO SCARED SHE WAS GONNA DENY HIM THE HAPPINESS

Hey who turned out the lights?

IS IT THE GHOSTS

Nope it's just Charles's friends who aren't siblings at all😭😂

OH SHIT THE DAD IS THERE?

Oh shit. Xing, seriously?! You ASSHOLE!

IS THE NECKLACE POISONED

She's deeply upset by him🥺

Oh shit, the dad got Bruce his dream car👀

Yeah, this isn't good at all

Aw Alexis is in danger

I think the Dad is gonna try to kill the mom👀

Nooooo Charles doesn't want to be the head of all crime he wants to run a bakery🥺

The way the tailor pulled Bruce back😂

Oh no, I'm guessing the dad is gonna try and bring Bruce into the fold 🥺

Nooooo my boy🥺 he looks as if he is about the burst into tears

Oh shit, the mom saying that the dad can't have both of them🥺

Bruce, listen to your mama

The way Bruce asked if Charles would prefer to watch the cooking channel🥺

Charles being totally different because of peer pressure sucks(as a younger sibling I totally get Bruce)

You may be his son, Charles, but you're also your mother's son

The way Bruce is begging his mom and brother to see the truth and do what it is they want, not what is expected of them.

Frankly, if I was Bruce, I'd run away and fake my death, then when the dust settles and hopefully the mom and brother have fixed things, I'd reappear

The way she admitted to manipulating Bruce to his face is so hard, because she's hurting him and I think she knows it,

THE BASTARD DARED TO BRING UP HOW SHE LEFT HER ONLY SISTER TO DIE ALONE? IT WAS HIS FAULT

"The only purpose you were serving was me." FUCK YOU

He's definitely a villain, he didn't wash his hands and then touched her face😳🫣

She's definitely doing more than getting her hair done😂

Grace is pissed

The way Bruce didn't even get the title right for dragon head😂

Bruce is literally the only one who is willing to do anything for his family without his pride getting in the way

Oooooooooooo they shook hands it's a official 👀

Bruce trying to get Charles to go get churros instead😭

Charles' phone is in the other jacket (what if Bruce accidentally takes that one)😂

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww the way Charles is saying he'll send his brother money so he can live his dreams 😭😭😭

The good looks so tasty

All the ghosts have arrived

That's a good question, where IS Charles

Oh he's in the kitchen 😂

Poor Bruce is being haunted by his actions when watching the great British Bake off of 😂

I wonder who he's calling

I'm willing to bet that at least some if not all of the servers are part of the Boxers

Oh shit, Bruce is wearing the jacket with Charles' phone😂

Aw, he called June😂 love how she's happy to go as long as she gets to kill Bruce's girlfriend 😂

Awwww it's also because they're all the family she has left🥺

The way that TK sat in front of the car😂

Why did he get in sideways??😂

Ouch, I love that June just pushed him off😂

The way Charles just noticed Bruce and the others behind a fish tank😂

I don't think that the dad is actually going to put Charles up for the role of head dragon

I feel like the mom is gonna make a grand entrance

Oh, he did put his son forward but I don't think this is gonna end well

Fuck yeah I called it! THE MOM JUST MADE A GRAND ENTRANCE FUCK YEAH

Also, bad bad bad nec

HA THE ONE GUY WANTS TO HEAR WHAT SHE HAS TO SAY LOVE THAT!

FUCK YEAH HE GAVE HER HONORARY MEMBERSHIP!

"Self centered dinosaur"😂 love that

Oh shit, tea leaf story😂

Oh shit IT'S A BOMB

The way everyone is just awkwardly standing

The way that Bruce just ran into the room and got the bomb😂 tripping as he ran away with the cart😂

Oh damn RIP to those FBI guys

It's a shootout!

Damn it Grace killed someone

The way that Xing charged at the guy who killed Blood Boots, that was some swift and brutal justice right there

Charles' friend did the move from his favorite movie and got killed, at least he loved him s dream 😂

The way the mom is getting Bruce out of there

Oh no, the dad now has a gun, and I seriously worry he's gonna kill Mama Sun

I love June

Damn, a fishhook is a big ouchy🥺

I love that TK took the FBI guy down 😂

Charles looking at the chair with a smile😂 he looks like Christmas cake early

Oh police dude, you naive man,of course he survived. He's Charles fucking Sun

Fuck no, Charles don't listen to your dad, don't kill your brother🥺😭

[starwrittenfates]

🙊what would my muse say their biggest flaw is

⧱ what really is my muse’s biggest flaw

🎒what was my muse’s worst subject in school?

(For Sev)

CHARACTER FLAWS MEME;;

🙊what would my muse say their biggest flaw is

As always when it comes to Severus, it's complicated. He doesn't like to point out his flaws because they are negatives and he already feels insecure about himself. He'd probably say that he himself is a flaw or his strong emotions that take control of him completely. After all, he comes to view “Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions” are weak. He's not only speaking about Harry when he says this, but himself too. He's learned that people who show their hearts to others are usually abused, bullied, and rejected for it. It's best to hide it away so no one can use it against you.

⧱ what really is my muse’s biggest flaw

While him having strong and deep emotions isn't necessarily a bad thing, it could become a flaw because him feeling that showing his heart to others is a weakness to be exploited instead makes him come off as bitter, cold, and harsh to others. Not to mention, it distances him from people even more and doesn't help him build connections with others that could actually be really good for him. So I'd say it's mostly a lack of control he feels he has (once again attributed to his rough childhood.)

I would also say his pride is his downfall, including his wrath. These mostly stem from his childhood and his abuse from his muggle father. He wanted to be acknowledged and respected for being a talented wizard and was filled with immense ambition to make his life better in the Wizarding world. He held spite towards Tobias (rightfully so), and wanted to be special (hence, calling himself The Half-Blood Prince, using his mother's maiden name, which reflected the Wizarding side of his blood, not the muggle part he hated thanks to his father.) However, the bullying he endured thanks to James and Sirius didn't help. It only added more fuel to this fire. His ambition to make something better for himself at Hogwarts as an escape from his horrible home life turned into a path of darkness, leading him to venture into the Dark Arts to further try and prove himself, but also protect himself, which ended with him losing Lily and joining the Death Eaters. The rest is history.

But at least he eventually learns from this, and that's what's important. Although it cost him the life of someone he loved deeply to learn said lesson.

🎒what was my muse’s worst subject in school?

With how much of an intellectual genius he is, is there even a subject he is terrible in? Severus is literally a literary sponge, soaking up any knowledge he can and mastering it in no time.

Besides people skills, I'd probably say Divination. He thinks it's all shit, which makes it even more tragic when a prophecy ends up changing his life forever.

[tzigone]

Rewatched Dirty Dancing for the first time in at least a decade

Rewatched Havana Nights, too. I've seen the original mores time, but it's been at least a decade since I've seen either.

Of course, the story is a moment in time and ends there. But people like "what happened next" and I totally went to look for fanfic on it, I admit. Way too many "she's pregnant" stories - hell no. Johnny should not have trouble getting condoms at that time in history and given Penny's recent trauma, I just don't really buy them not using birth control.

But what do I think would happen? Well, I want my couples together. But what do they do, besides be in love? I will say Baby and Johnny are part of the formation and growth of each other and each other and the the events influenced their world views in ways that would linger forever, even if they didn't stay a couple. But I'd keep 'em together, because I'm a sucker for happy ending.

I admit to not watching all that closely this time around, so may have missed details telling us what they might want.

Did Johnny really truly love dance in the sense of wanting it as a career? I know Penny said it was all she ever wanted to do - not sure if she was being honest about it. If I made one really have success at it, it'd be her, I think.

I remember how Johnny felt about about Baby's father helping Penny. Now, yes, saying he's nothing is part of his own skewed view of his own worth. But would he like to be able to do something "important" because it's what he wants, instead of just for the regard it would grant him? That ability to help, and the willingness that Baby had to do so, are something he so admires, and doe he want to emulate it?

I do think Johnny has both desire and disdain for that upper middle class lifestyle (indeed, some of the disdain at, least, is envy-driven, though some deserved, as well). The security, the comfort, the women who take care of themselves and smell nice and all the "softness" and ease are have their appeals. I don't know if he could accomplish it - college isn't expensive then (well, depending on where you are), but affording to live while you are at school is an entirely different thing. And I'm not sure his pride or sense of "rightness" would allow for college-graduate wife Baby paying his way through later (and, of course, he'd be older). College is by no means a necessity, though. But what flavor of meaningful work would suit and please him?

Anyone else think his uncle might be better off than his own folks - union painter/plasterer would not be bad pay (though it depends on how many weeks work there are each year, and, of course, is blue collar).

Baby. Frances. She grew up so much. She went from viewing her father as almost perfect to realizing he was a (still good) man with his own flaws and biases. She learned you can't always change the unjust things, but trying matters anyway. But she's not as naive anymore. It's obviously important that she not give up wanting to help - to make the world a better place. But it's the method of it, I'm curious to. Will she be a lawyer or economist or something else? Certainly, I don't expect her to live in the same sort of "bubble" she grew up in - with the idea that "those people" are "other" - that it's good to help, but that they occupy different social spheres. So I do think she'd want a more mixed (economically, socially, racially) environment and social circle in her adulthood. Does she still go for the Peace Corps or for more mundane help at home? The world and youth culture change so much in the next few years (though we have to be mindful that the actual sixties had a whole lot boring, non-activist, traditional life-style young people), and how is she affected by those changes? Don't want her the cynic.

Then for Havana Nights, there's a whole other pickle with the political elements and consequences. Javier is hopeful for a brighter future. And Castro was quite popular for a quite a while, and there really were significant improvements in life for many. But he not a proponent of violence, and the executions, imprisonments, and setting folks up to spy on each other will not endear him. So how long until he leaves, and what does he do when he does? He's devoted to his family and is the major financial provider for his mother and nephew. Having dependents makes so much more difficult. Will he get leave for the US? Will he get his family there, too or just send remittances? And his brother is a whole 'nother can of worms. Even if he does come to the US, he absolutely not going to mesh well with the earliest/first-wave emigrants, who favor Batista like US influence over Cuba.

Katey is very much the typical teen in that she no idea what she wants to do with her life. She doesn't have a "direction" or dream job or anything like that. Still very much finding her way. Just with broader horizons after her experiences. And far more cognizant of of the impact of politics. Don't know what I'd have her do.