#like those are the only rich people i see as moral

[redcherrykook]

──𐙚 think i need someone older (s & f)

olderBoyfriend!Jungkook x inexperienced!reader

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content: some plot first, loss of virginity, age gap of 9 years (he´s 30), thigh humping, little dry humping too, cowgirl, he talks her through it, dom!jungkook, "sweet girl, baby, love", "gguk" lowkey insecure reader, praise, making out, breast play, clit play, creampie, unprotected, hickies on him, big c!ck Jungkook, small karaoke session, he´s whipped and wants to take care of her, short mention of alcohol (bc of that fucking bar he has omg), allusions to reader being short, she's very feminine

note from cherry: i tried to do justice to the people who wanted this, i hope you´re satisfied mwah! sooo sorry if it´s not giving lmao writing this was lowkey exhausting, also sorry for typos as always

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Jeon Jungkook is exactly like his preferred alcoholic beverage; whiskey. strong, rich, smooth, smells like oak and a hint of vanilla caramel. Much like your introduction to the drink, you met this man in a bar.

A real man- none of those barely twenty-year olds that paraded around in their sagged sweatpants and with a bright tap of unlimited unopened snapchats lighting up the dark corners of the bar. Jungkook is pure masculinity, a chest so full with security, so grounded in his abilities that it was practically impossible to ignore how his large, brown galaxy eyes focused on your face, zeroing in on your cupid´s bow while you licked the stinging remains of your moscow mule away- he paid for it, of course.

Once the enticing conversation that felt almost comically easy faded, you expected him to try and take you to his house- mansion, as he revealed in a sidetracked sentence. Although you were looking forward to seeing the small metal pearls below and over his eyebrow move as they crinkle in pleasure, the tight ropes of virginity had not yet been released in your 21 years of living. Shackles that keep you tied down- as promised out of your own, admittedly senseless morality, not to be opened by a stranger. The key to your cuffs belonged to a lover.

It was unforeseeable, nevertheless natural for him to droop his heavily tattooed arm around your waist while escorting you out of the establishment. The sleeve of his white button down folded up along his forearm for you to see the beauty of his skin, wondering just how many more of those carefully crafted works of art he´s hiding beneath the business casual attire.

Once engulfed in the harsh, bitter wind that itaewon possesses, his arm only drew you in closer, so near in fact, you were able to notice a small scar on his cheek, one you hadn´t been able to notice in the curse of a dimly lit place. The more your eyes adjusted to him, so grew your anger at the lighting inside your place of first meeting- it had done an injustice to the man you had already been disgustingly attracted to, stole the wholehearted, inescapable allure of such a mature presence.

The gentleman looks down into your awaiting eyes, only to ask if he may have your number, upon your agreement, he proceeded to tell you that he would be walking you home, wanting you to arrive safely since it must be dangerous for a woman to walk the streets of a party district at 2 am in the morning.

That encounter was four months ago, and only a month after that initial conversation, he had completely taken over you. Swallowed you whole in just how well he treated you.

Insistent of using his black card to buy you anything you remotely showed liking in, dedicated to communication, random flowers that showed up at your office and a constant offer of a ride in his luxurious black mercedes-benz GT63s; no matter how long it took- even if it was a inconvenience, sometimes taking longer to get to you than it would have taken you to simply retort to public transport.

"I told you i´d make it for you, didn´t I baby? hm?" his velvet smooth voice rings, from how he´s standing, with his body pressed against your back, towering over you, you could feel the hardened muscles of his torso meeting you. His large, slim hands reach to either side of your waist, to the glass filled with ice that you´re holding in between your own, gently removing them to resume the task that you were occupied with. Your eyes glance to the bulging of his bicep, that loose, casual tshirt did nothing to hide just how big he had gotten due to his newfound hobby.

you whine- almost, biting down on your lower lip to prevent just that from happening, "thank you gguk" you say, turning to peck the very muscle that´s invading your line of sight. He hums, a low, satisfied sound from the back of his throat.

"c´mere baby" patting one of his muscular thighs, his eyes drift to your figure walking towards him, iced tea in hand, just like he had made it for you. Sweet, light, refreshing, much like your presence in his life. Almost like a sign from the stars that his hearts content was somewhere, bundled in the form of a shorter girl with eyes that could entrance any sailor- far less siren like, no, wide with love and purity. Just what he had yearned for in any women he had met before you-whether tangled in meaningless sheets or involved in a month long, semi serious relationship, Jungkook was yet to cross paths with the one woman that would make him turn so desperate, he would have begged for their happiness on his knees. It might be romantic, even a tad dramatic to admit that from the very first word that left your pink glossed lips, he knew better than anyone else that he was in deep, deep trouble. Upon seeing the curve of your waist, hearing that soft, lulling voice, that embarrassingly obvious fact only intensified after finding out just how delightful you truly were, it made him want to rip his hair out- do anything in the possibility of his grip to see even a glimpse of your smile, of that lighthearted, cheerful giggle you let out regularly. He was drawn in my your feminine nature, by the way you let yourself fall into his caring embrace.

He´s quickly directed back to reality as soon as your legs make it to either side of the thigh he had patted earlier, a familiar position for this equally familiar occasion. Muscle memory sets in for him, grabbing the large karaoke remote to hand to you while he turns the microphone on. "Can you sing something to me first?" the question sets his bunny smile off, nodding instantly "Sure love, chose a song for me" he says. Your mind floods with ideas, but you settle for a song you´ve heard him hum millions of times, mindlessly going about.

"Malibu nights?", jungkook questions excitedly while the instrumental sets in, he knew the answer, but his heart swelled with joy at the notice you took to this song. After all, he loved to sing. Another layer to him that has you melting, growing into the embodiment of love that is endlessly cherishing what little fractions were revealed to your eyes in each fleeting moment. His honey voice reaches beautiful highs and lows you can only compare to something angelically otherworldly in nature.

It made you want to know just how deep he could growl, how far his sounds can drop with the dirty nothings you would love to have whispered in your ear. You felt filthy for letting your mind wander to such extends when all he did was sing, lulling you into drunken harmony with him. Still, you consciously lean back into his body, letting him wrap his arms around your waist, encircling it with his vanilla oak scent.

During the past four months, you were doomed to have to shatter his hopes, reveal the truth that somehow felt shameful ; that you´re fully untouched. Nothing further than a bad makeout had yet graced your skin, it made you feel even smaller admitting something so vulnerable to a man that carries almost an entire decade of experience more. Much to your comfort, his hands found the curve of your cheeks immediately, telling you that there is nothing to be embarrassed about, he would hand you the full control, you set the pace.

Internally, Jungkook drooled at the idea that the woman of his dreams was to have her first, the most memorable, sexual encounter with him. Your body belonged to him, devoted to only remember the touch of his lips, the curve of his cock, how he would mold you to his shape without the intrusion of another man having tried the same. Not that he would have wanted you any less if that had not been the case, but for one time in your relationship, he was oh so selfish to want you all to himself, aroused that your first person induced orgasm was going to be his and his alone. The prophecy fulfilled when on one, alcohol induced night a week ago, two of his long, tattooed digits made their entrance into your tight hole, relentlessly filling you until your soft thighs shook, until after your third high, he licked his fingers clean and let you taste yourself on his tongue.

The tunes get lost in silence, he sets the microphone down, having felt the warmth of your mound beneath the tights while you tried to subtly gain friction, scooting back on him. His palms find your thighs, tightly flushed around his muscle. They´re shamelessly wandering up and down the thin material that prevents his hot, calloused fingers from feeling up your smooth skin.

"Wanna do that again, love?" jungkook mutters, his pillowed lips latch on to your exposed neck, right at the gentle curve that paints the beginning of your shoulder, soft, faint kisses that leave a trail of barely sounding sighs behind.

"Do what?" feigning innocence to avoid internal humiliation, you ask him, knowing he wouldn´t let it go, not until you told him to. The sound of his husky chuckle sounds right on the sweetspot of your neck, he sucks a little harder, encouraging you with the constant rub to your thighs. Instinctively, the heat inside your panties grows as do the intensity of your desperate moans, your hips push back on his thigh, seeking the solidity that grants you the portion of satisfaction your needy button longed for

"that" he simply says, having found an anchor in your hips now, your plaid skirt bunches around his hands, slowly- tortuously so when met with the deliberate little humps he helps you to complete on him. You practically whimper once his tongue glides across your skin, dragging from your shoulder, up your neck, intertwined with his open mouth, loud kisses that don´t seem to stop.

"that´s it... do you even know how cute you sound?" he smiles, and you feel it, you feel the smile rise to his lips with every additional kiss, every noise you grant the hungry male. "gguk, wanna see you" you whine- the high pitched noise has him twitching in his training joggers, semi errect but about to stand stiff, just as noticeably as that night seven days ago, having formed a huge tent inside his slacks, there was no hiding his attraction, no use to conceal his utter need for you.. nor his size, not that he would be capable to anyways.

To your request, he helps you turn around, now facing that dim glow on your slightly embarrassed features, taking note of how you nibble on your lip with every grind forward, "that feel good sweet girl?" he asks, ghosting his lips over yours faintly, just enough to see how much you need it, "mhm.. really good" you mumble back, chasing after his lips that he can't deny you of any longer, the kiss is gentle, but nourishes your heat further

"wanna feel even better?" the pit in your lower abdomen grows at the tone of his voice, something much stronger is seeping through his system, something that screams dominance, you nod- naturally wanting to get lost in it. Jungkook's hands stop assisting you, instead, they take to your shirt, "can i take this off of you baby?" he waits for that little hum of yours before swiftly tugging it away from your form

It's almost frightening how quickly your mind reverts back to wanting to run away and hide, your arms fly across your chest, everything you felt so good doing stops and he stops too,

"don't hide, you're perfect, you're so fucking sexy" his eyes trace your skin, hands wrapping around your wrists to pull your arms away, revealing your chest hugged into your bra, and jungkook almost forgets how to breathe properly,

he groans- groans that delicious deep noise that makes your head spin, even more so when you feel his appreciation for your body, hands pulling you closer by the waist so can bury his head into your cleavage. "so beautiful" he mutters, darting his tongue out to lick the slit between your tits, "wanna touch all over you, make you feel so good" he says, finding the clasp on your back to open it with one hand. a silent reminder of his experience, one you did not have in the slightest but somehow, it felt even better that way

"mh.. feels good gguk" you can't help but moan at the forgein sensation, his lips wrap around your hardend nipple, groaning sweetly while he sucks on it, carefully swiping his tongue over the little nub- your other breast is securely fitted into his palm, thumb playing with it just like he does with his mouth, mirroring every little flick

"feels so good doesn't it? you smell so good baby" his lips move to do the same to your other breast, switching sides with a trail of saliva sticking to his lips,

In that moment you feel so sensitive, so lost in his secure hold and at the same time, so small in his skillful dominance that you simply relish in the feeling, grinding your soaked core into his thigh over and over, long, hasty drags over his muscle while his lips work magic on your skin, squeezing a little tighter, sucking a little harder because every stuttered whimper fuels his urge to take care of you

"that's it baby.. keep going, you're so good" your hands find his dark chocolate locs, threading through it with the need to ground yourself. it feels as though every time your clit meets him, instead of getting you closer to sensational relief it adds to the ache, feeds into your desire to take and take more of him, be consumed by his strength

"want this off please" your excited fingers fiddle with the hem of his oversized shirt, earning a smug grin from your boyfriend as he detaches from you, discarding of his top

Although you have seen him shirtless before, it's impossible not to salivate at the sight, at his toned broad torso that curves into a unfairly small waist, large arms flexing when he reaches for your tits again, massaging them once more,

"like what you see pretty?" he says, teasingly cocking his head and biting at the metal ring on the corner of his lip, you blush- the slick drools out even more between your thighs, "so hot gguk, annoyingly hot" he chuckles, joining the sound with your airy giggle, but he sucks in a breath as soon as you shift in his lap, now fully straddling him, naked chest pressed to his with your head burried in his neck, "hmm.. what are you up to baby?" his hands find your back, soothing himself not to pounce on you because the strain in his pants is staggering his breath, your errect nipples are rubbing against his skin and it´s making him shiver, desperate, oh so desperate for you

but he knows all to well not to overwhealm your sweet, virgin body, to let you take all the time you need until he can feel every breath of your submission

"wanna feel you gguk, can i?" jungkook almost purrs at how innocently you ask, suppressing the need to grind his hips into your heat from below, "of course baby, anything you want. it's all yours"

he meant it, every vein cursing through his body belongs to you, working, pumping blood through him for the sole purpose of loving you, taking care of you. "all mine?" you hum, aroused by the confidence he emitts, your hands trace up his torso, creating a small distance between your bodies to feel up the hard lines on his abdomen with laboured breath of your own, lips finding every small patch of his neck that make him hum, make his sighs of pleasure slowly turn into groans "all yours my love" the answer wasn't necessary, not when you already started to leave traces of you on his skin, faint, red bruises on his neck that he's impatiently waiting to run around with

"you feel so fucking good, need to feel more of you, will you let me sweet girl?" his words are intoxicating, washing away any doubt or fear and replacing it with a intense craving of sexual desire "please gguk i'm so wet for you" the sound reaches his ears and shuts down his entire system, his hands carelessly rip down your skirt and stockings, leaving you in those tiny grey boyshorts that he looses his mind over "baby how did you hide all this from me?" his hands caress your thighs, your hips, up your waist and to the soft flesh of your stomach with hungry, insatiable eyes that long for a taste of your every inch

"all yours" you mimic him, sounding just like him with your sultry, shy voice, already wanting to remove his own bottoms which he catches on, ridding himself of the nuisance "yeah, all mine. this is all mine" he says, smiling softly

Your drenched underwear meets his errection as he pulls you back on his lap, hands sitting on your waist, you look so vulnerable- almost fragile in his grip, shyly moaning because the curve of his cock presses into your skin like it was molded for you, needy folds clinging to your underwear and your clit throbs- throbs begging for another taste of friction

"I don't know how to do any of this" he suddenly he hears you mumble, seeing how you're playing with your fingers that sit on his lower abdomen, your head is turned to them, a slight pout decorates your features

jungkook feels the need to sob- to take away whatever is making that pretty head of yours feel so threatened even though you're the best thing he has ever felt, the only person he ever wants to lay his hands on ever again

"that's okay baby, hey, look at me for a second will you?" you comply, craving his lead, his security to catch you, most of all that gentle, masculine dominance that floods your senses effortlessly

"you're doing so so well pretty, you don't have to worry okay? i'll take you through it, make you feel so good" he says, cupping your cheeks in his palms while sitting up a little to press kisses to your nose, your forhead, your lips and cheeks,

unable to contain your smile, you nod, gaining back the heartbeat in your willing feminity to let him take care of you, "thank you baby" you say with upmost honesty, pressing your lips to his in a kiss of adoration

"mhm.. come on, let's get this off of you love" his whipers lingers on you, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear before pulling it off your lifted legs, he moans at the sight of your bare cunt, slick attached to the cloth and glistening over your feminity

"so beautiful, do you even realize how lucky i am? how thankful i am that this sweet, sweet girl is all mine to love?" he says softly, so softly that your eyes gloss a little bit, feeling so utterly vulnerable in front of him, so sexy in the most feminine way possible. blush creeps up your cheeks, his hands find your inner thigh, dancing around the sensitive skin "you're too sweet gguk"

he returns your smiles, lifting your hand to kiss it before intertwining it with his own, lacing his fingers into you because being apart from your body feels like torture in this moment. but you're eyes are busied elsewhere, locked on the large outline that stands rock solid insides of his calvins, a small, wet patch that indicates his arousal decorating the very top

"go ahead baby, take it off" not needing to be told twice, you help yourself to his boxers, tugging them down in one, slow motion that leaves him biting his bottom lip, he pushes them down to his ankles, kicking them off

both of you sit like this for a moment that feels like eternity, raw, bare and without a chance to hide in front of the other's desperate gaze, comfort, pure love that's inseparable with a pulsing you can no longer ignore, not when he´s so big, so broad and decorated with a vein alongside his curved shaft

he grabs at the flesh of your ass, pulling you to sit your gushing cunt over his stiff length, cursing at feeling how soft you are, how much arousal truly spills from your body

"you're so.. big gguk.. m'scared" your whine makes him coo, stroking your head while a possessive grip that stays on your hip, his left hand tethering to your hair in the meantime, "don't be, you were made for me sweet girl, made for it" your head falls to his shoulder, arching your torso into his body with a small hump to his leaking cock, "that's right baby, feel it, feel how hard i am for you" spurred on by his encouragement, you tighten your hands on his bicep, rolling your hips over his, his entire shaft is coated in your essence, angry pink tip meeting your swollen clit repeatedly, so much so you feel your thighs shake, feel an impending orgasm waiting to flow over your body,

Ripping yourself of that sensation, not yet- you tell yourself

"want it gguk, want it so bad" jungkook hums, kissing your neck messily, cock throbbing beneath you, "want what pretty? talk to me" he says, his own desire to claim you all to himself becomes unbareable with each passing second that you stay put

You shift forward again, whining, "please gguk" he groans, twitching at how desperate you sound, entranced with how needy you've become for him, he didn't even have to make you beg for it, you just did

effortlessly perfect for him, "come on, tell me my love" but he has to hear more, he needs to hear the dirty confession falling from your pure lips

"want your cock jungkook, please" there it is- that submissive, whiny plead for him, it makes him feel alive, throwing his head back on the black leather couch momentarily "good girl, fuck baby you're so cute" he praises, taking the base of his cock into his hand but something stalls him, "do you want me to eat you out first? make it nice and slippery?" his teeth graze your ear, kissing over the shell of it, "no gguk i want it, want it now"- another nibble, "anything for you"

Your hips lift, hovering your tight, clenching hole over his thick manhood, hands sweaty and grasping at his firm shoulders, he spots your anxiety, wishing nothing more but to ease it

"sit down on it baby, it's gonna sting okay? but you're so good, I know you can take it" more, more reassuring words that you drink in, just as you sink down on it, wincing as your brows meet in frustration

"hurts.." you mutter, fingers digging into his tanned skin- you can't bring yourself to move down further, clenching your muscle tightly around only his fat tip that feels like it's splitting your drooling pussy open. his hands find your back again, "ssh baby.. i know... but you'e such a good girl, i know you can take every inch of my cock"

It takes a couple more kisses to your shoulder for you to sink down fully on his length, painfully so- having your hands claw into him, your lips trembling in confusion of why it feels so good to have him stuffed into you so deeply you can feel it inside your tummy, stretching into every crevice of your gummy walls. It's unlike anything you've ever felt before, fulfilling, deep pressure that you could get lost in- bathe in

Jungkooks feelings have synchronized with yours- he's unsure where you end or where he begins but you're clamped down on his cock, your skin already wet with sweat as it sticks to his unforgivingly, moans and shaky breaths fill in the silence, a unspoken question lingers, awaits for you to answer it

until you do, taking his large hands to your hips before pressing yours against his full pecks, a glint of confidence spites your eyes that makes jungkook want to hear you cry out his name over and over again

"oh fuck- baby you-" you whine, rolling your hips forward, mouth parted when you feel him move inside of you, slolwy, deeply "that's it my love, take your time, so sexy like this" his voice is far from stable, you moan again- the grinding becomes faster, assisted by his hands that pull you onto him just the way you like it- just like he said, you have it all, its all yours

"what- what if you can't come?" he needs to contain a laugh at that- the question is so absurd to him, so unimaginable that it makes him slightly angry why you couldn't understand that he could cum from seeing you alone, from one kiss to your chaste lips- he's already twitching at how sloppy, how loud your cunt is around him

"I almost came from seeing how needy that little pussy of yours is, you feel how hard i am don't you? all because of you baby" he mutters in response, you flourish at it, getting familiar with the grinding motion but you need more, you deserve more- so you start bouncing on him- up and down, slamming your own, curved hips down onto him. he's mesmerized by your pleasure, watching how your brows are knitted, how your lips leak with drool and airy moans, how your tits bounce- he gropes at them, cupping them greedily, his hands itch for your skin, for you to let yourself go on him

"good girl.. look at you, a natural at riding my cock- don't even need my help" you shake, exhaustion already growing in your eager hips but you cannot stop, you don´t want to stop taking every inch of his cock back into you, lifting your hips only to take him back in, "you're filling me so much" you moan into his mouth, having formed a unity with his lips that welcome you like home, "just like that pretty, little humps for me" he mumbles back, interlacing his tongue with yours

he tugs at your nipples with his inked fingers, reciprocrating the moaning, he mirrors you, throbs when you clench, explores your mouth when you part for him impatiently. it leaves you to no choice but to become his own reflection, your hips ground themselves in a stable rhythm as your fingertips roll over his own nipples, unexpectedly he whimpers, bites down into your shoulder cautiously

"That's it baby, driving me fucking crazy" he grinds his hips up into you, unlocking a feeling of bliss that leads you to errupt into pornographic moans, your hand flings to muffle them, eyes rolling back into your skull,

Jungkook is making love to you, letting you reach a state you would not have been able to imagine, not even in the slightest when all you have ever felt are your fingers hastily, uncoordinated on your bundle of nerves. still, he can feel you´re holding back, afraid to be loud- to take up space, but he's having none of it

"Dont be embarrassed sweet girl, you sound addicting, so cute, give me every little noise" sinful sensuality floods you with his encouragement, "gonna make you cum for me, deserve it don't you think?" you don't- in fact, you can't think, long gone into pleasure while his hips piston into you from below,

he slaps your clit gently, your walls clench from how good that feels, "i asked you something baby" he repeats, distracted by your droopy eyes that threaten to shut him out at any moment, "answer me sweet thing, do you deserve to cum hm?" he taunts, rutting his hips with a slower but harder motion, force that hits your g-spot- reels you back into the moment, you head moves frantically "yes, yes please i need to cum"

Jungkook groans in satisfaction, "that's right.. best little cunt, all mine" he goes back lapping at your chest, licking his way to any patch of skin that your addictive smell lurs him to- he feels all over your skin, sneaking his fingers to where your bodies morph into one so he can draw tight circles on your clit, stimulating you to cry out his name,

"Jungkook.. i- i can't stop it i-" you stutter, thighs tensing around him, the feeling is so overwhealming that you can't keep your head up, can't warn him more than that since you're already letting your dew sprinkle out- letting the shocks roll over your body

"just like that.. make a mess on my cock baby, you did so well, come for me" he rasps, his heavy balls release into your tightness at the thought that crosses his mind- the knowledge that he had made you orgasm, that your virginity belonged to him solely,

It embraces the both of you, fills you with a sense of euphoria that none of you wish to end

As the high washes over you, you break out into a small shudder, aware of his milky cum that splurts your walls white, aware of the oversensitive area between your legs that jungkook's fingers slowly stop touching, landing to your unstable and sore thighs instead.

his heavy breathing is woven into yours, contrasting how slowly, lazily he manages to caress your naked skin, finding comfort in your warm body

the small whisper of his name catches him off guard, he hums, pulling back to cup your face, "are you okay my love? feel good?" his eyes rank over your tired features, glowing before his very own eyes,

"so okay. I love you" you breathe out, pressing a kiss to his button nose,

"I love you too baby, so proud of you" his nose nuzzles against yours, "you were so so good"

your shy giggle lights up his face like it always does, "thank you.. for taking my virginity... felt so good" you mumble with your bottom lip tucked away between your teeth- it awakens his soft- still nestled cock, his hands grip your ass- feeling the flesh spill beneath his fingers "thank you for your trust baby, but god, you're gonna make me lose it" jungkook says into your neck, nose tracing the delicate line of your shoulder,

"why? is it too much?" unbeknownst to you, Jungkook rolls his eyes in annoyance, how could you be so fucking adorable?

"Let me show you why" he answers, making your head perk up a little,

"Wanna lay down for me pretty? I can give you another one, as many as you want. You deserve it, wanna spoil you, fuck i wanna give you everything you want" faintly audible as he's speaking into your skin, having already laid you down onto the cold cushions of his unreasonably expensive leather couch.

[prncssguya]

on hwang in-ho/front man, seong gi-hun and their dynamic.

first, idk why people are getting so upset at other people calling gi-hun dumb, we were told that in the first season. lol being bright is not his strongest trait but he has a good heart and we love that about him. however, he is still an idealistic gullible idiot with a gambling problem. except this time his gambling addiction is backed by a sense of justice and righteousness and he no longer gambles with money, he’s gambling with people’s lives. front man asked a good question at the end of the season, “did you have fun playing the hero?” can we even call gi-hun the hero of the story anymore? he gambled with people’s lives and front man showed him the consequences of his moral heroics.

front man only agreed to help gi-hun with his revolution when he mentioned about "small sacrifices for the greater good". i think he reveled in the fact that the “good guy” was willing to allow a few innocent people to die for the greater good to stop the games, which is exactly what the entire VIP theory is to rid the world of 'trash' to improve the world. notice how gi-hun's moral code and belief also changed, from being "nobody should die" into "yeah small sacrifice is okay as long it's for the greater good" at this point, he just proved that front man's belief is actually valid. AND he gets more of his own people killed in the pointless battle with the soldiers that they had no chance of winning. now he gets to feel responsible for all those deaths and the death of his friend and for whatever additional torture they cook up in the next games (as punishment for the escape attempt).

now on hwang in-ho, i believe he was once a good man and the story he told gi-hun was the truth. but in the end he lost a kidney, lost a wife, a baby, lost his money, got fucked over by the wrong people and got into serious debt and had to play this game to help his wife and probably it was too late to save her. he might have played the games like gi-hun but saw how ruthless and greedy people are and resolved that they don't deserve help

i don’t think in-ho wants/will kill gi-hun, but he wants him to understand things from his perspective and show him that his compassion for the people in the games is foolish. you can tell the frontmen (the old man and in-ho) are extremely fond of gi hun. not only did he protect their original front man when nobody else did, he then won the games and thus their respect as he is now as rich as them. he's no longer "trash", he’s an elite like them. i think they both actually kept tabs on him after he won (i wonder if they do that for all winners? inserting them with gps chips?) because they knew he had not used his reward money and in-ho wanted gi-hun to get on the plane and be happy with his daughter

there’s one interesting aspect of the games that makes front man such a complex character. the fact that they’re operating a organ transplant trafficking network. in a way, he’s creating some good to come from a really fucked up situation. but is it really for the good of others who desperately need it, people like his wife, like his brother? or is it just a money making scheme?

either way, i don’t think there is going to be a redemption arc for in-ho, he’s too far gone. we may get to see more of his human side if he manages to see jun-ho again. the only time we’ve seen genuine emotions from him was when he shot his brother like he seemed distraught

the real cliffhanger for me, is will gi-hun stay true to his belief that people can be good, or will he be forever changed into a villain and become the next front man…? after the events of this season i don’t see how his will doesn’t shatter. he’s witnessed how humanity consistently chose money over survival, he’s lost two close friends, his mother, abandoned his daughter. he has gained nothing from wanting to stop the games and this clearly feels like an origin story for the next front man. it’s clear the front man has won this round and i think squid game will either die with 001 or continue with gi-hun as game master

another thing i find funny that i don’t see many mention is how gi-hun is like the luckiest guy in the fucking world. but i don’t think him being alive this long is plot armor, it makes sense. the games exist for the entertainment of rich sadists who have so much money they don't know what to do with it (remember what old 001 said in s1 about life being no fun for both people with no money and people with too much money). and i’d imagine killing hundreds of poor debt-ridden fools year after year gets boring. especially when said fools are desperate enough to gamble with their lives because they think they can beat the system by playing better than everyone else and surviving and getting the money.

gihun is different because he got the money, got out, and still came back. not because he's unfeeling or because he wants more money, but because he's still convinced he can beat the system.

if you're a rich bored gazillionaire, would you rather watch some randos die or would you rather watch this exceptional idiot fail again and again until he learns that his ideals are meaningless and people are inherently greedy and equality is a myth and people at the bottom of the barrel don't get to question the system?

if you're an asshole gazillionaire, you don't want someone to challenge you and just get away with it. you want to hand them 45.6 billion won and make them go away quietly, traumatized, after breaking them psychologically by making them do horrible things until they understand they're just powerless "horses". if they insist on challenging you and your system and your beliefs (money = boundless power), you teach them a lesson and show them their place in the most manipulative and cruel way possible. if gihun dies right away, that's boring. so he can't die, he needs to suffer. he needs to concede defeat.

also, i find it funny how people are comparing hwang inho and gihun dynamic to hannibal and will graham. makes sense, their whole cat and mouse game, front man hiding his true nature from gi-hun the same way hannibal does, trying to corrupt the righteous protagonist, sowing chaos, testing him and observing his behavior like a lab rat, the crazy tension and staring contests, the gaslighting and manipulation. and with the fact that they think lee byung-hun looks like mads mikkelsen. i never put the two of them together but now i can’t unsee it lol

[kurohe]

Things you can do to actively participate in the revolution

Here's the list !

I know some of those will look really silly, i promise they are not. And obviously, this is not a checklist, you don't have to do everything. But they're steps that you can absolutely take if you wish to, and they WILL help.

(i am continually correcting things when people point out mistakes. Thanks everyone for your help)

(under the cut !)

1) Let's start off with a very easy one you can do right now: stop using Chrome. It's a google owned browser, and it sents all of your data towards it. Mozilla is a very good replacement, but almost anything will do, really. Also, resign your amazon prime subscription. We revolting against capitalism as a whole, and this is a good first step to not freely give em your data and money

2) Start stealing things from supermarkets and malls. I am not kidding. Little things, that aren't really monitored: a can of food, a lighter, a pair of socks. Condiments are particularly easy to hide in bags or pockets. Steal hygiene products, steal food.

Remember that you should have access to those for free, and you don't because a few rich guys don't want you to.

Additional tip: train station stores are very easy to steal from, because they're so busy. But don't put yourself in danger. Check beforehand if they check bags at checkout, look out for employees that might notice what you're doing. Don't be reckless.

(edit: imma say this, you should read up on what the risks of stealing are, for you and others. Stealing from big stores is IMO always morally right, but it is risky for many reasons. Be careful)

3) In the same line, if you see someone stealing anything from a big store, no you didn't.

4) I know a lot of people are scared of disrespecting rules. By fear of being caught, or by guilt. My advice is: start disrespecting stupid, meaningless rules. I don't have specific exemples, but you'll encounter them and wonder why you're doing that. Stop doing it. This will train you to be able to disobey autority way easier.

5) Put stickers everywhere. If you already have them, go ham. Especially on public property (lamposts are amazing). If you don't, buy them from artists or independant stores, not big brands. If you cannot afford them, remember that you can simply write stuff on an A4 paper and plaster it to walls. Or even post its !

6) Carry a sharpie with you at all time, the big black ones. If you see propaganda, scribble it out. Keep a look out for terfs stickers, maga posters, etc. Also good for getting rid of transphobic and sexist stuff written on public restroom stalls !

7) Buy locally. This means going to the market or small stores, and thrifting your clothes. If you can't for money or accessibility reasons, try trading with your friends, family and neighbours. Get communication going in your circles, and you'll realise there are a lot of things that you can simply trade with or buy from people around you. Like a jar of jam against some eggs, or a pair of socks for a t-shirt you don't wear anymore !

8) Learn how to sew. I know, that sounds dumb ! But i promise you, not only will it be amazing to trade with other people ("i'll sew back ur shirt and in exchange, you give me a can of peaches !"), corporations also haaaate when you know how to fix your clothes. Because they want you to buy more. You'll spend a lot less money if you know how to fix em

9) If you have the space and the money, grow your own food, and share it or sell it around you. Be careful, some assholes will call the FDA on you. Do that with people you trust.

Additional tip: growing vegetables and fruits can be a real nightmare. You can absolutely start by just growing some basil or mint :)

10) Organise. Join leftist groups online, even if it's just to see what's being said, you don't even need to interact. Follow creators, repost and share their content. By doing that, you'll stay informed on group movements like strikes, protests and boycotts, which you can then participate in. It's very important you're connected to other ppl and the movements that are started !

11) Unionize. I'm very sorry I don't know the exact way unions work in the US, but if you can, join one. They will help you in times of needs, especially if you're a student or a worker. If you're not sure how to do that, absolutely ask around to people you know are very active politically, around you or online. People will help.

12) Stay. Informed. Follow independant papers and news outlet. If you can afford it, give them a dollar or two. They are fighting everyday for access to unbiased information for all, and sadly, their independance means that they rely almost entirely on donations and people simply engaging with what they put out.

If you can't access those: do not get your news from TV. Ever. Or anywhere else that has been bought by the far right. Sadly, the majority of TV channels are just the worst.

And, most importantly: fact check. All of the time.

13) Share that information. Talk to those you trust and who are ready to listen to you, and tell them about what's happening. Get angry with them. Revolution stems from people coming together and realising that they're being used and profited off of. Share videos and posts relating to politics, especially informative videos.

14) Go to protests ! If you've never been, i know it can be scary. But you can stay in the middle (don't go all the way to the front, that's where stuff can get heated) and scream and walk with everyone else. You'll meet people who, like you, want things to change. Capitalism wants you to stay as unconnected to others as possible, and that's a great way to fight that.

Sometimes, there are sites that have a planning for all protests happening in a city. Look up if one exists for yours

15) Create and strenghten community. I know i really struggled with this one, because it's so vague. But here's a few places you can start:

-Go and introduce yourself to your neighbours, if you deem it safe. Give them a little gift if you can afford it, like a pack of pasta.

-Make new friends, even if they aren't deep friendships. You need connections. Online or irl, both are fine- don't stay isolated.

-If you already have community, go check on them right now. Ask your friends how they're doing, and if they need anything- ask how they're being impacted by what's happening right now politically.

16) Look for ways to fuck over the institutions in easy ways. One example that went around tumblr a lot is letting dandelions grow in your backyard, because landlords fucking hate it. If you work in retail or fast food, cheat. Accidentally forget to scan the diapers. Put in 7 nuggets instead of 6.

(edit: been told that it's very risky for walmart workers to not scan things, so beware.)

17) Engage in art. MAKE art. Music, shitty paint drawings, craft, anything as long as you're being creative. Share it. If you feel like you can't do that, then support artists. Make a point to look up cool illustrations, and new music. Go to the cinema.

If you're an artist currently in an underpaid office job, please, by the love of god, be creative during office hours. You're underpaid, they do not deserve your full time and attention. Take 30 minutes to write that snippet you've been thinking about.

(and actually, if you're underpaid at all: do the minimum required. So that you can't be fired, but that's it. Any more effort is not worth it. Companies will never be thankful for what you do.)

18) Look up books that your state banned, and go read them. You can get them secondhand, or as pdfs online. (if anyone needs ressources, i will glady look for and share them.)

And, actually, read books in general if you can. Yes, fanfics count !

19) Seek education. There's a lot of youtube channels out there talking about educational subjects in a fun way. Some things the rich assholes who run the country specifically don't want you to learn more about are: biology, history and archeology, social and economic sciences. GO LEARN ABOUT THOSE.

The people in power don't want you to be educated. It's why they eviscerated the education system.

20) PIRATE. I cannot stress this enough, anything you can pirate (that isn't from small, indie creators, except if you absolutely can't afford it) do it. Download music illegally, torrent movies and games. If you want access to academical studies and papers, some writers will give them to you for free if you email them about it. There are also ways to go around paywalls.

21) Don't fall for the traps of "progressive brands". Lately, i've seen a lot of praise for Ben and Jerry's for openly supporting lgbtq rights and being globally anti-trump. They are still a brand. Avoid buying from any big names when you can. That being said, if you have to, check beforehand which ones and what their history is. Some are more evil than others.

Additional tip: a lot of brands you see in stores are actually owned by bigger brands. One prime example of this is Nestle, who are fucking evil, but they own a shitload of other big names. Be careful what you buy.

22) I hate to say this, but be prepared to defend yourself. Revolutions are never peaceful. You will get in danger. If you can, get in ok physical shape. Learn how to run fast and fight well.

If none of those are available options to you, please, make sure you have someone around you that will be able to protect you, or a place where you can be safe. Whether you are disabled, a minor, or anything else. Don't put yourself in more danger than is necessary.

(this used to also include getting a gun. I deleted it because i don't feel comfortable recommending this. But it's still an option.)

23) Last but not least, be kind. When someone cuts off a woman speaking, interrupt and give her the floor back. Shame those who think it's right to say bigoted shit in public. Listen to those around you. If you can't act, then remember to always have empathy for the homeless, for drug users, for immigrants. Understand they are people just like you. You are not immune to propaganda and prejudice, no matter who you are. Always question yourself and your biases.

(if you've read this far, please repost. We need this to reach as many people as possible)

I want to remind you that you're not alone. I know things seem hopeless, but the simple fact that you're reading this is proof it's not. I don't live in the US, but i'm supporting you as best i can from where i am, and sending you strenght.

If you have any questions, do ask away. I'll end on this image that's very dear to me:

[eempyreall]

♪ 𝐵𝑒𝑔 𝑏𝑦 𝑉𝑎𝑛𝑎 ♪

༺ Here, Kitties! ༻

Oneshot ~ Hybrid Cats x Female Reader

Summary ~ Your rich grandmother gifted you three troublesome hybrid cats. Once they become comfortable, they become a little too attached.

Featuring ~ Original Characters: Boaz, Elias, and Nyx

Extra Notes ~ This is the non fandom version of this story. If you want to read the Tokyo Revengers’ version, press this link.

This story should only be posted under eempyreall on my tumblr and ao3. Report if you see it posted under anyone else but me.

Warning ~

You and the characters are 21+. Although I picture the reader as a black cis-gendered female, physical appearance will not be described at all.

Content within this story may not be realistic or factual.

I do not condone any of the behavior displayed within the story.

There may be dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit content, sexual content, etc.

That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

You were not the biggest fan of the newly made system of hybrids being sold as pets. A hybrid was basically a human—just with a little more animal instinct, claws, and a tail. They were halflings. If anything, they could be classified as superhuman or even monstrosities, but calling them pets was a reach. They were basically slaves in this society.

You saw them everywhere—well, amongst the rich who could afford them. Even if you were rich, you wouldn’t buy them. It was morally strained and just plain wrong. It was disgusting. It was also risky, as those halflings were stronger than humans. You were surprised the creatures hadn’t decided to take over humanity. According to the scientists who created them, it was a huge possibility.

When you first heard about it, you wondered why those people would even make such a thing, though their reasoning was that hybrids could do anything humans couldn’t due to their lack of instinctual roots. It was stupid.

That’s why, when you received a huge crate inside the living room of your two-bedroom apartment, you were taken aback. You snatched the note from the structure and read that your rich grandmother had gifted you hybrid cats because she pitied your lack of social interaction. Of course, she didn’t write it like that, but that was basically what the card said.

She even provided you with a credit card that she promised to pay off for the sake of buying whatever the hybrids needed. You grabbed the long document that was taped against the wood.

You were informed that there were three cat hybrids in the crate. They were three males who had an established relationship between them. There was a shorthair Burmese, a tiger, and a panther.

You sighed as you began to think of ways you could send them back to your grandmother. There was no way you wanted three grown-ass men living in your semi-small apartment.

You stepped forward, unclipping the metal lock as you swiftly opened the large crate. Your eyes widened at the display in front of you.

Sitting in the middle was a man with two dark strands flowing over his face—the rest of his black hair pulled back into a loose tuft. He had two slanted black ears that protruded from his long black strands. A black collar was secured around his neck, with a golden bell hanging from the fabric. He had sharp features, glowing green eyes narrowing at your figure, while a frown—with two fangs poking from his lips—was plastered on his expression.

His arms were wrapped around two men who were curled on either side of him. The one on the left had short hair, brown bangs covering his forehead as his grey irises lifted to you. He had a matching collar wrapped around his neck, and his blonde ears matched the middle man’s. He wore an expression of caution as he sniffed the air, his tail wrapped over his leg.

On the right side, a man with wispy, chest-length blonde strands and long bangs framing his face stared at you with slanted chartreuse-yellow eyes. One of his striped ears was upright while the other was folded, a matching collar tied around his neck with his tail slowly flapping against the wood. Although he was expressionless, there was a coldness to his features.

“Hi there,” you say hesitantly with a slight wave. You didn’t really know what to say, having never been around a hybrid in your life. You’d seen them on social media or at a distance but never in close proximity.

You sighed when they didn’t respond, shoving your hands in your pockets.

“Look, I know this is probably an uncomfortable situation for you. Maybe even more than it is for me. I did not buy you, nor did I even know you were here,” you clear your throat before continuing. “You guys are free to do whatever you want. If you need anything, just let me know.”

Their skeptical silence motivated you to continue. “Unfortunately, my apartment is kind of small, so you’ll have to share the second bedroom. The bed should be big enough for all three of you, so… yeah,” you finish before walking off to your bedroom.

You skimmed through the document that came with the crate as you sat at your desk. Apparently, your first move was the correct thing to do, considering you had greeted them and walked away to allow them to observe their environment.

You were supposed to stay out of their way for the remainder of the day while they sniffed around so that there were no risks of an attack. Their claws and teeth were sharp and thick—perfect weapons when they felt threatened.

You face-palmed as you realized you’d have to go shopping for all of their needs. You barely had anything in the fridge, and these creatures were carnivores. The horror stories you’d heard of hybrids going haywire and consuming their owners broke through your thoughts, making you shiver.

Luckily, it had been a few hours since you were last in the living room. You had no idea what they were doing, so you hoped your presence wouldn’t startle them when you appeared.

You push yourself up from your desk with a sigh, rubbing your temples as you mentally prepare yourself. It’s been quiet—too quiet. Either they’re still getting used to their surroundings, or they’re plotting something. You shake off the paranoia.

Stepping out of your bedroom, you peek into the hall before making your way to the living room. The panther hybrid sits in the center of the floor, one leg propped up as an arm rests over his knee. His golden bell faintly jingles as his green eyes flick to you the moment you appear. The Burmese hybrid is crouched near the crate, sniffing at the air, while the tiger hybrid lounges on the couch, one arm draped over the back as his yellow eyes settle on you.

“Uh… so,” you start, shifting awkwardly. “I need to go out and buy you guys food. And, uh, other stuff.”

The Burmese hybrid tilts his head, ears twitching, while the tiger hybrid just blinks.

“You’re leaving?” The panther’s voice is smooth but carries an edge that makes your stomach tighten.

“Just for a bit,” you confirm. “I don’t have anything for you to eat and might need to get some other supplies.”

The black-eared man gazes at you with a calculating look. You shift under his scrutiny, suddenly feeling exposed. He leans back slightly, the golden bell around his neck giving a soft jingle.

“I’ll go with you,” he says.

You blink. “What?”

“I’ll go with you,” he repeats, tone flat.

“So will I,” the tiger hybrid adds, his voice softer than you expected.

The short-haired man hums, stretching his arms over his head. “Mmm… yeah. We should all go,” he muses, voice light. There’s a glint of amusement in his grey eyes as he looks at you. “Gotta make sure our owner doesn’t leave us stranded, right?”

“I’m not your owner,” you say, hands on your hips. “I didn’t buy you, and I don’t want to own anyone. You can do whatever you want.”

“Sure,” he grins in response.

You huff at his disbelief.

The tiger hybrid pushes himself off the couch, rolling his shoulders. “Either way, we’re coming with you.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the panther hybrid tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly.

“…Fine,” you mutter. “But if you cause problems, I’m kicking all of you out.”

The panther hybrid smirks. “Understood.”

“So, what do you guys eat? Do you eat, like… cat food or something?” you question as you turn the wheel of the car.

The panther you learned was named Boaz scoffed in the passenger seat, his arms crossed.

“Cat food? Do you see how big we are?” He kept his gaze toward the window as he spoke to you.

“We prefer raw humans, but fish is really good too,” Elias chuckled from the back seat, his claws holding onto your seat as he leaned forward.

Your eyebrows furrowed as Nyx flicked Elias’s temple, causing the tiger to shout, “Ow!”

“We like raw fish. Steak works too,” the Burmese informed you.

“Okay, cool. Is there anything else I should get? Like, do you like cat toys or scratchers or anything?”

“Goddamn, you think we’re regular cats or something?” This time, Boaz’s gaze shifted to you with an eyebrow raised.

“Look, I told you guys that I didn’t buy you. I don’t know shit about hybrids, alright? Otherwise, I would’ve prepared.” You missed the glances they shared while you focused on the road.

“If you didn’t buy us, then who did?” Nyx questioned with curiosity, grey irises on the back of your head.

“Yeah, and how’d you even afford us? Your apartment looks average compared to our last owner,” Elias spoke up, now leaning back in his seat while his yellow eyes stared out the window.

“My grandma bought you and had someone place you in my apartment. I wasn’t expecting you when I got home,” you sighed. “Honestly, this is already a lot of responsibility I didn’t ask for. I was thinking about somehow sending you back from wherever you came,” you say honestly.

“Well, I’m not going back to that shithole, so you’re gonna have to learn how to take care of us,” Boaz stated.

You glanced at him, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Hey, I don’t have to do shit,” you respond. “What’s up with your attitude, huh?”

“That’s just how Boaz talks, Y/n,” Nyx said softly. “Also, if your grandmother bought us, then she signed the contract.”

Your eyes meet the Burmese through the rearview mirror. “Yeah, and?”

“Well, that means we’re bound to you for at least five years until the contract expires. Then, you’ll have to renew or return,” Elias explained from behind you.

“There are no refunds,” the hybrid next to the tiger added.

“How do you guys know so much about the contract? You said you had an owner before, right? How’d that go?”

“None of your business,” Boaz hissed.

You must’ve struck a nerve. You made a note to yourself to never bring up their last owner.

You watch as the hybrids snatch up packs of frozen meat and piles of junk food, tossing them into your cart without a second thought. You can already tell the receipt is going to be ridiculous, and you just hope your grandmother was serious about covering the credit card bill.

Now in the electronics section, you stand by while the guys grab a gaming console, controllers, and a bunch of different games. Your expression morphs into concern as you pull out your phone, turning away slightly while dialing your grandmother.

The moment she picks up, you start explaining everything they’ve been piling into the cart, asking—no, practically begging—for reassurance that it’s okay to charge what’s bound to be an insane total. She just laughs, telling you not to worry about it and to enjoy your new companions.

Nyx then asks you to stop by an electronics store to get them phones, and despite your hesitation, you end up spending hours buying three different phones under your grandmother’s name.

Even though they’re grown men, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re some overwhelmed mother letting her teenage sons run wild with her credit card. It’s stifling—but you let it slide, for now. You wonder why anyone would want this kind of responsibility.

“Hey! You assholes better help bring everything in, or I’m taking all of your electronics!” you shout at the two hybrids casually strolling into the apartment, leaving you and Nyx outside to do all the work.

Once all four of you finally get everything inside—and after making them help you haul the crate to the dumpster—the hybrids begin setting up their electronics while you start preparing their raw fish. You follow the recipe of some hybrid owner who’s popular on social media.

When you’re finished, you set their plates on the table and call them over from their game. You leave the leftovers on the stove for them to grab, and inform them that they need to clean everything up when they’re done. Nyx raises a brow at you as he picks up his plate.

“You’re not gonna eat with us?” he asks, settling onto the couch, one ear twitching while his tail lazily flaps against the cushion.

Boaz and Elias are sitting on the floor with their backs against the bottom of the sofa. The plates are set on their laps with their controllers set aside on the carpet. They both glance up at you, ears perking with curiosity.

“Nah, I’m gonna shower, then maybe order something. I only made the raw fish anyway, and I don’t eat that,” you say, scratching the back of your head before heading out of the living room.

It has been six months since you got used to your new roommates. It has become a routine—waking up, going to work while they sleep, then coming home to these guys. The first night, you forgot to tell them you had work the next morning, so you had Nyx and Elias blowing up your phone with notifications.

Despite the annoyance, it was kind of adorable, so you let it go. It was your fault for not informing them, after all. You didn’t want to admit that you actually enjoyed their presence, but honestly, it felt like what you imagined having brothers would be like.

One night, you decided to read up on cat hybrids specifically. You never finished reading the manual, and you figured now was a good time. It seemed like a smart idea, considering some of the off-putting moments you’ve had with them.

One day, you had a day off from work and decided to stay in. You were sitting between Elias and Boaz on the sofa, playing a game on the television. Nyx was in the bedroom, taking a nap. When Elias won, he accidentally scratched both sides of your neck while grabbing your shoulders in victory, exclaiming, “Did you see that?”

You remained calm at the stinging sensation, assuming it hadn’t left any significant mark. Unbeknownst to you, a drop of red liquid began oozing from both scratches. Both hybrids’ pupils dilated as the scent of your blood brushed past their noses.

Your eyes widened as Boaz’s hand pressed against your forehead, pinning your head back against the couch while both men lowered their heads, their ears flat against their skulls. Elias’s hand slid over your opposite hip, pulling you closer, his claws piercing the fabric of your bottoms.

You froze as two wet muscles dragged against the skin of your neck before lips closed around your wounds. A shiver ran down your spine as your knees pressed together. Your hands clenched into fists as you stared at the ceiling.

Boaz licked over his own saliva before pulling back, Elias mimicking the motion as they released you. When you lifted your head, you watched as they picked up their controllers and went back to the game as if nothing had happened.

“Um, what the fuck was that?” you asked, your voice a little higher than usual.

“What the fuck was what?” Boaz responded flatly.

“That. What you guys just did.” You frowned.

“Oh, that? We just cleaned the blood from your neck,” Elias shrugged.

Another time, you were in the kitchen chopping up some raw steak when you accidentally cut the skin of your middle finger.

“Ouch!” you cried, immediately rinsing the stinging area with soap and water. Nyx had just walked in to see what you were up to.

When you lifted your finger from the sink, you saw that blood was still seeping through the cut.

“Damnit,” you groaned.

Your attention turned to the hybrid as he suddenly snatched your wrist, both hands holding yours as he brought your finger to his mouth. He stuck his tongue out slightly, licking the blood before circling his lips around your finger, sucking it all the way in while his gaze never left yours.

Heat rushed to your face as he continued sucking the wound for a moment before pulling your finger out of his mouth and releasing you.

“You should really use a disinfectant spray on that, Y/n.”

You understood that hybrids had different societal norms than humans, so you didn’t feel as uncomfortable as you probably should have. You just blamed it on the fact that you had different perceptions of social interactions.

You were confused when you reached a certain part of the passage.

“Heat?”

Your eyes widened as you stood in the doorway of your bathroom. It was late at night, and the door had already been cracked open, so when you saw the light on, you assumed one of the guys had forgotten to turn it off—something that had happened before.

You weren’t expecting to see Boaz with his exposed back turned to you, leaning against the wall with the palm of his hand pressed flat against it. His other arm was moving at a ridiculous speed while you heard wet flapping sounds. The end of his tail twitched while his ears were upright.

Your heart thumps faster against your chest as he turns back to look at you with narrowed green eyes. His lips were apart as he breathed heavily, his arm still moving violently. You both stared at each other before you pulled the door shut.

There was another time where you had woken up to loud thudding noises from the other bedroom. Against your better judgment, you decided to walk towards the noise. When you got to the cracked door, you pushed it open slightly as you peeked into the bedroom.

Elias had his head down while his body rocked against the man who was penetrating him from behind. His claws were gripping the sheets as his hair fell over his shoulders. Nyx had his fingers wrapped around the man’s striped tail as he thrusted into him, both men glistening with sweat as they grunt and moaned loudly.

Boaz had his claws grasping Nyx’s face from the side as he pulled him into a wet kiss, saliva streaming down onto the bed as the burmese hybrid whimpered into his partner’s mouth.

You almost gasped when you saw Elias lift his head, a filthy expression on his sweaty face as a pair of your panties hung from his mouth, his fangs poking through the fabric. His bright eyes were almost fully black with the large pupils covering the irises. His right ear was flat as the other stood upright. One of his eyes was slanted as the other was wide.

You sighed as you realized how helpful this knowledge would’ve been before walking into all those awkward moments.

As you read on, the document warned you of any possessive behavior the hybrids might display. It caused you to think back on any moments you might’ve had where the list of behaviors occurred.

You had just gotten home from the bar, something you don’t normally do unless it’s the weekend. When your coworker asked if you wanted to go after work, you figured that it couldn’t hurt, as you were feeling a bit more energized that day. You had stayed longer than planned as you got tipsy and a little crossed from the blunt you shared.

When you got home, you were surprised to see the three hybrids sitting on the sofa, awake. The atmosphere of the room was suffocating as you stumbled in, shutting and locking the door behind you.

“Hey guys,” you slurred, kicking your shoes off before you started walking to your bedroom. Before you could make it, a hand snatched you back, claws piercing the skin of your arm.

“Where the fuck were you?” Boaz growled as he sniffed you. “And why do you smell like that?”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to yank your arm out of his tight grip, to no avail.

“The bar,” you respond with confusion.

“Why didn’t you tell us that you’d be gone for that long?” Elias said as he walked up to your side, grasping your jaw as he forced you to eye his sharp gaze.

“Woah, what the hell? I already texted you guys that I was going out after work. Chill out,” you hissed, pulling your face from his claws as Nyx walked to the other side of you.

“You didn’t tell us where or for how long. That’s not fucking okay, Y/n. Did you even think about how that would make us feel?” Nyx spat angrily.

You noticed that all of their tails were thrashing behind them as their ears were flat against their heads. You could feel the tension rising as they glared at you, eyes narrowed sharply as they looked as though they wanted to attack.

“Hold up. Who the hell do you guys think you are to question me? In my apartment?” you questioned angrily as you grabbed Boaz’s hand to pry his fingers off your arm.

It worked only until he replaced his hand on your neck and pulled you almost nose-to-nose, the expression on his face growing more feral by the second. You felt your heartbeat accelerate as you could see the pupils in his eyes growing.

“I don’t like your tone, Y/n. Who the fuck do you think you’re questioning?” He hissed, his voice eerily calm.

You could feel your feet slightly lift from the floor as you balanced yourself on the tip of your toes. You could feel the sweat beading against your skin as three pairs of eyes bore into you.

That was not an enjoyable moment at all. You felt your skin crawl at the memory. You remember the night ending with him releasing you before you rushed to your room. You couldn’t stop the tears as you had never been handled like that before.

You remembered Elias and Nyx sneaking into your room that night as they held you and whispered how much they cared about you and why they reacted the way they did. You remember shifting your position and eyeing Boaz, who stood at the doorway with his arms crossed and a softer, but stern gaze on his face. None of them apologized, but they did purr and nuzzle into your neck.

It was a very weird moment, and you still don’t know what to make of it.

Another month has passed since you had read the manual. Their behavior has still been weird, but not as bad as before. You had a talk with them about their heats and told them to start keeping the door to their bedroom locked. You had also gotten them some supplies such as lube, condoms, and any other safety products to make it all easier.

You had even talked to them about the possessive behavior, and the conversation seemed to have gone well. So one night, you decided to invite a friend from work over. You just wanted to hang out, but because you had lacked human interaction for a long time, both of you ended up making out.

You weren't planning to go any further, but you had just really enjoyed the way the man's lips felt against yours, as well as the caresses on your back. It was gentle, soft, and mesmerizing. He was gorgeous anyway, so it worked out.

Unfortunately, the door to your bedroom slammed open, and the hybrids stomped in as Boaz headed straight for the human male. He snatched him from the shirt and dragged him off the bed before landing a punch on his face. You scream as Nyx pinned your arms down while Elias started stomping the guy’s stomach.

They continued to beat the man as crimson gushed from his skin, gurgling on his own blood and saliva as Elias dug his claws into the man’s ribs and ripped apart his torso. You gasp loudly, sitting up before Nyx climbed on top of you and pinned you down again. His hands grasped your face as you grabbed his shoulders, attempting to push him off.

“They’re killing him! They’re fucking killing him! N—Nyx, stop them!” You scream as he uses a palm to cover your mouth.

“Shh, shh. It’s going to be over soon,” he spoke softly as warm tears streamed down your face. Your screams are muffled behind his hand as you hear the slashing and squelching of the man’s guts being yanked out of him.

Elias and Boaz are completely feral as they tear apart the human. Blood has splattered all over their face and naked torsos. They don’t stop, even when the man is completely still and any sign of light disappears from his eyes.

The man’s mouth hangs open as his eyes are rolled into the back of his head.

Although the hybrid in front of you is the calmest, you can see the pupils that have dilated as he also gives you a feral expression.

“You’re gonna be okay, Y/n. O—our last owner didn’t make it because he didn’t behave so you just have to relax and listen to us, alright? H—he used us and tricked us and—-we actually really, really love you and don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered with his forehead against yours as you continued to thrash under him.

Nyx is pulled back by the shoulder as Boaz grasps your face and tugged you forward.

“I’ll hurt you if you scream so stop it,” he says, using an arm to rub against his mouth as the blood smears.

“Relax.”

Your hyperventilation slows into quiet pants as you attempt to calm down so as to not get killed. You feel exposed as all three pairs of eyes stare into you when Elias stands to the side of the bed. They’re all surrounding you and it’s suffocating.

“Good,” he begins.

“B—Boaz, please. I—I,” your hands shake against the claws holding your face as you tug them. “I—can’t—,” you are breathless. You can’t breathe.

“Hey, we’re going to take care of the body, okay? But I need you to relax for me. Breathe,” he says.

“I'm going to be honest with you. When I saw his hands on you, it really made me want to kill you,” he said. Your face morphed as you sobbed. “Relax,” you complied as you focused on his green eyes.

“I realize that you had no fucking idea what you were doing. You thought that it was okay, and it's our fault for not telling you before. Now you know that you belong to us. You can't bring anyone home, and you definitely can't touch anyone else, yeah? You know that, right?” Boaz questioned you.

You don't agree with the conditions. You feel stupid for believing them when you had the talk about possessive behavior. You didn't realize how deep they were. The fact that something like this has happened before with their past owner makes you fearful for your life, especially since they killed him. You are hysterical and can't really think straight.

“I—I can’t—I don’t—,” you try so hard to catch your breath but you can’t stop panting.

A hand on your shoulder caused your body to jolt as you turned to the culprit.

“Hey,” Elias leaned in as he purred, his bloody face smearing the substance against your shoulder as he nuzzled against you. “Let’s go to another room while Boaz and Nyx clean the mess up.”

“Hey, why do I have to clean it up when you were one of the ones to kill him?” Nyx pouts.

“T’s not the time, Nyx. Let’s hurry up so we can go to bed.”

“B—but the b—body? How are you gonna—?” you ask, worried that you might get blamed for your hybrids’ actions.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ve killed more people than you think and nobody ever found out that it was us,” Elias smiled. “Let’s go,” he says before pushing you off the bed.

“You don’t know how hard it’s been for me to control myself,” Elias whispered against your ear as he held your naked body against his bloody torso.

The steam of the shower is suffocating along with the lack of space between both of you as the warm water rinses you both. You feel the lump in your throat as you could feel the hard structure against your bottom.

His tail hangs low as his ears face forward. His wet hair drapes over his shoulders as he nuzzles your neck.

“Would you let me in?” He questioned, his voice soft.

“Do I even have a choice?” You question with fear laced in your tone. He chuckled in response.

“I guess not,” he said.

[avelera]

I feel like so much of the silly Mel vs. Viktor discourse when it comes to Jayce would be resolved if people realized that the plot was originally conceived as a basic morality play arc with Mel as the devil on one shoulder and Viktor as the angel on the other for Jayce.

The bones of Jayce's plot in Season 1 is of a good-guy scientist who is tempted by the allure of politics and fame, with a beautiful femme fatale politician seducing him towards power on the one side and his humble 'brotherly' relationship with his scientific partner representing Jayce's 'true self' that he is drawn away from by her machinations. It's a very, very old school, reductive, male-centric plot that literally boils down to "bros before hos".

It even makes sense for S2, with Jayce overcoming his corruption arc in S1 and returning to his "bro" only for his prior sins to tragically launch Viktor's own corruption arc as the Machine Herald only after Jayce has learned his lesson.

And then the Arcane writers and Fortiche subverted this plot. Here's how:

They made all three characters multi-faceted adults with their own agency and motivations. None of them are puppets for the others or, if they are, the time one character spends controlling the choices of another becomes part of that controlling character's sins that must be atoned for (namely, Jayce resurrecting Viktor against his will, Mel manipulating Jayce against his will, Viktor trying to control everyone against their will).

For example, they made Mel complex and interesting and a good person in her own right. Yes, she still has elements of the beauty, danger, and allure of a femme fatale but by making her her own person with her own plot and motives, none of which are malicious (at most, they are self-serving until she changes her views on Hextech and how best to bring peace to Piltover).

Jayce is still torn between Mel and Viktor but he also fully has his own agency, as many are quick to point out. He is often dragged around by the manipulations of others too (Mel yes, but also Marcus, Vi, and Ambessa influence Jayce into bad decisions). Part of his arc is learning how to be true to himself and his own goals after his time spent in the Anomaly future. But, even there, you can still see the bones of the original morality play arc, where the "Good Ending" for Jayce is to go back to his lab partner "bro" and bring both of them back to being true to themselves.

Viktor isn't just helplessly standing by while Jayce ignores him. In fact, Viktor often deliberately cuts Jayce out of his experiments. He doesn't tell Jayce about the Shimmer, or the self-experimentation, or even about Sky's death until after Jayce resurrects him with the Hexcore. Viktor has agency, he has his own goals, and while he frequently chastises Jayce for abandoning their shared dream in what I believe is another hint of the bones of the original morality play plot, he also has his own flaws and his own journey to go on independent of Jayce.

Much of the silly bickering I see between Mel and Viktor fans comes down to who "deserves" Jayce, who is "erased" by not ending up with Jayce, whether or not Mel is manipulative, or if Viktor thinks about Jayce at all when he's busy pursuing his own goals, and I think all of those are absurd arguments.

Mel is manipulative, it is part of the bones of the morality play plot that has her as the antagonist, but they made her so much more than that, that I think it's an active disservice to the character they made to reduce her story down to whether or not she ends up with Jayce. I get why people get hung up on it, because I do believe it's the core of the first draft of her plot, but the richness of her character comes from moving beyond that. Indeed, in S2, the least important part of her character is her relationship to Jayce. She has her own stuff going on.

Whether or not Jayce is a victim of manipulation or whether or not he pursued power for its own sake is also showing an understanding of the basic, core plot they built the richness on top of. Jayce was seduced by Mel's manipulation and he did grasp after power, but they enriched his character by making his goals more noble and more tragic. He's always trying to fight for Viktor, for Hextech, for their shared dream, and for making Piltover a safer, better place, but how he goes about it often makes matters worse until he learns, grows, gains wisdom, and makes terrible mistakes he arguably can never make up for fully.

Jayce also isn't fully a victim of Mel's manipulation, just as she is not fully a mastermind able to control his every move. He breaks away at a certain point and makes his own (poor) decisions in ways that frighten her and make her regret her actions, until he grows enough to recognize the wisdom in her advice (though he later grows again and recognizes the original manipulation, which leads to him breaking up with her in 2.08 because Mel's sins are still there and they are the reason she and Jayce don't have hope for a future together once he realizes he can't trust her because actions have consequences in Arcane).

As for Viktor, he doesn't like Mel. In that, I think we again see the original morality play roots, with him as the angel on the shoulder disliking the devil who is seducing Jayce. But they enriched his character by having him respect Jayce's choices even as he may have privately disapproved of them, and to have his own arc to worry about with his failing health, and his other flaws like intellectual tunnel vision/naiveté, and his tendency to self-isolate in the face of his terminal illness. He has his own stuff going on.

They also subverted the morality play arc to a certain extent by having Viktor stop being the angel in S2. Indeed, the framework more or less falls away entirely and it become Jayce trying to save Viktor from himself, and from Jayce's own mistakes of not destroying the Hexcore, while Mel is busy with her own story of politics, war, and magic.

Anyway, I hope some of this makes sense. But I think if people just recognized that yes, there are elements of Mel as a bad guy in the fabric of the story, of a story where Jayce is in a balancing act between his demons and his angels, but that good writers came in and layered real people over these simplistic plots, made it so Mel's story isn't just about Jayce, Jayce's story isn't just about getting corrupted by a femme fatale, and Viktor's story isn't just about being abandoned by Jayce, and thus elevated the trope beyond its tired-out, simplistic roots, there'd be a lot less wank.

[msgses]

trick or treat

pairing: josh washington x gn!reader w. 1,491 genre: suggestive horror, shameless smut summary: out exploring the mountain for halloween, you come across a lodge. thinking it's abandoned, you head inside not knowing what (or who) you'll find. warnings: very dubcon vibes, questionable morality, implied afab anatomy. no use of y/n. rough sex, choking, creampie. a/n: this is my first until dawn fic! i still plan on doing one for mike i just thought josh would be a perfect halloween fic

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. MINORS DNI.

There was a lot of intrigue surrounding Blackwood Mountain and the horror stories surrounding it. Deciding you wanted to go out and have fun on Halloween, you decided to get into some heavy clothing and make the trek up to explore the site of the rumors.

The trip up was agonizingly long, and the cold weather and snow didn't make it much better. Though, you still decided to continue exploring and came across a few fun spots.

There was a shed that looked awfully cozy, but unfortunately was locked. If it worked out, you might've spent the night if it meant not having to go back down the way you came in the freezing cold.

As you traveled up the trails, you noticed a large building in the distance. Already feeling like you could get hit with frostbite any minute, you decided to check it out.

It was a huge lodge, and you could see all the lights were off indoors. Getting to the windows, there wasn't any sight or sound of anybody inside.

When you tried the door, it surprisingly opened without a hitch. The inside of the house was eerily quiet. Abandoned, maybe?

Investigating further found that there were obviously people that had lived there, but weren't around. The rooms were empty and only a few stray pieces of clothing or a beer can was any sign of life. The heating was still on, luckily.

So, you decided to check out the fridge. If you were going to make the place your house for the night, you wanted food.

Just as you were opening the fridge, you heard a creak of the floor behind you. Before you could turn, you felt a hand over your mouth just as you attempted to yell.

"No, no, don't yell. You're not in any danger, yet," A man's smooth voice came from behind you, "I'm going to take my hand off of your mouth and you're going to tell me your name."

Just as he said he would, his hand traveled off of your mouth and lightly wrapped around your throat. Fumbling on your words, you sputtered out your name.

He repeated it into the air multiple times before chuckling softly. You could feel his breath against the back of your neck. "That's a pretty name. What are you doing out here all alone on the mountain?"

Your brain felt like it was going blank. "I just.. I wanted to see what all of the horror stories were about. If there really were monsters up here."

"Not the kind they talk about, no," His grip tightened slightly, "But there are monsters up here. Ones that are very territorial."

You felt your pulse rising in your throat and it only seemed to be getting faster. Your mouth felt dry and you weren't ignorant of what he meant. "Who- who are you?"

"Oh, honey," You felt him get right next to your ear, "I'm one of those monsters. You can call me Josh, though."

"Josh.." You had to think about it. You knew the history of the mountain from the google deep dive you did the night before. "You're Josh Washington, the son of the rich guys that bought this mountain."

"Ding ding ding, we have a winner!" He backed away, hand still on your neck as he raised his voice, "Well aren't you a smarty pants?"

You felt your cheeks flush and your mind raced with questions. "What are you going to do to me?"

That drew Josh back in, although this time he pressed his body firmly against the back of yours. A very obvious bulge pressed against your ass and you swallowed hard. "I'm going to show you what one of those monsters do when someone comes into their territory."

"Don't.. don't hurt me," You pleaded, although it sounded pathetic and weak.

"I won't hurt you, or I won't try to," Josh laughed softly into your ear, "You just have to cooperate."

You nodded slowly, feeling uncertainty all throughout your body. What he was going to do was uncertain, although the obvious bulge pressing into you gave you some idea.

"That's good," His voice lowered and his hands hooked onto the thick pants, "You're not going to forget me, sweetheart."

His movements were quick, pulling your pants and underwear down in a quick few tugs. You felt bare and open, sweat collecting on your brow. "Josh.." You murmured.

"Oh, I like it when you say my name," You could hear his grin from the way he spoke, "Keep saying it and maybe I'll be nice."

You felt his hand running over your ass, giving it a firm squeeze and letting out a low groan when his hips rolled forward. His free hand reached down and pulled down his sweatpants and boxers. His cock was painfully hard and you could already tell.

His hand also reached forward and pressed a finger against your hole, teasing it and chuckling. "Someone's desperate for me, aren't you? Pretty thing."

You couldn't suppress the whine that left you, subconsciously pushing back against it. He seemed to notice and gave in, his finger sinking inside slowly. It drew out a gasp, but you kept your composure as he worked it in and out.

"God, you're wet. I'd have half a mind thinking you walked in here wanting me to fuck you," He teased, pushing his finger in rough and adding a second to go along with it.

The stretch burned, but you were still breathy and overwhelmed by the feeling. "Josh," You could hardly get the word out.

You heard him laugh behind you. "If you say my name like that, I can't promise I'll be able to control myself," He withdrew his fingers and you felt his cock press against your hole, "Say it again."

You felt his hand close around your neck tighter, but you still got it out. "Josh." You repeated firmly.

"That's right," He sounded satisfied with himself before pushing his hips forward.

His cock was thicker than you anticipated and you fell against the refrigerator door, trying to catch your breath. His hand slipped off of your throat and both of them grab onto your hips.

His pace started out steady, even though you hadn't had nearly enough time to adjust to his size. Either way, he was going full steam ahead. Your hands closed around the fridge's handle, holding on for dear life.

"Fuck, you're so tight, did you know that?" Josh's voice sounded rough and airy, "So tight I never want to stop fucking you. Never gonna stop, you hear me?"

All you could let out was a broken moan, his steady pace felt unrelenting and hard to process anything around you. "Fuck, Josh.."

"God, baby, keep saying that," He wrapped his arms around your waist and began pounding into you. His thrusts felt desperate and unhinged.

"J-" You were cut off by his incessant pace, being completely overwhelmed by the pleasure of his cock hitting deep inside you.

He seemed to slow down, back to his pace from before, although he was letting out small whiny sounds. "You feel so good, can't help myself, no... gotta have you.."

His ramblings began to drone on, his voice quiet and largely overshadowed by the sound of his hips connecting with yours. Before you could say anything else, he randomly began to speed up again.

Just like before, he was fucking into you ravenously. He sounded like a mess, much like yourself. The feeling of his cock pushing into you over and over had you without any warning had your brain turning into mush.

It wasn't long before you felt a surge of pleasure, letting out a choked moan as you came around his cock. It was sudden and fast, but prolonged by his relentless pace.

You heard him whine behind you, his fingers digging into your hips. "Fuck, you can't just.. that felt so fucking good, I can't stop.." His voice sounded completely foreign to the confident, intimidating presence you heard before. He was gone.

It was even more sudden that he slammed into you, his hips staying firmly pressed against you as he moaned out. You felt a warm sensation and the pieces clicked together just as he started to speak. "Fuck, that's it.. you're all mine."

His hips slowly rocked before pulling back, feeling his cock slip out of you. Your knees buckled and you collapsed onto the kitchen tile, feeling his load begin to seep out of you. "What did you.."

"Monsters like to claim their prey," Josh said, his voice back to his intimidating persona. "Now they'll know you're mine."

"Yours?" You said as you looked up, seeing his face for the first time that entire evening. He was far too attractive for his own good. "I'm nobody's, Josh."

"Oh, is that so? Maybe I didn't make it clear enough. Let's do it again and learn, shall we?"

[rated-r-for-grantaire]

It is time for me to once again infodump about Javert. Javert. JAVERT! JAVERT IS A POOR ROMANI MAN BORN INSIDE A JAIL! He is unhoused otherwise, his only home is a LITERAL PRISON! HE IS NOT A PRIVILEGED ASSHOLE! I love Javert, but I know that a lot of people don’t - that being said, if you wanna hate Javert, you have to hate him for being A CLASS TRAITOR not for being some rich white guy. CUZ HE IS NOT THAT! The main reason why he is the way he is, is because he hates his identity and his past! He HATES his circumstances and he HATES what he was born into so he takes it out on those around him! When he tells Valjean “you know nothing of Javert, i was born inside a jail, i was born with scum like you, i am from the gutter too” that’s SO true and SO sad bc he hates himself SO MUCH for what he was born into AND he hates Valjean bc he SEES HIMSELF IN VALJEAN! It’s such a good portrayal of systematic injustice and internalized racism — that is, when you actually write Javert as the poor Roma man that he is. Javert deserves SO MUCH BETTER. He is not a bad guy and he deserves to be in heaven in the musical epilogue. He hates himself and he hates people like him, and most of all he hates the people that are like him who DONT hate themselves! And THAT’S the most important part of his arc and i just wish he could’ve been able to accept himself and the people in his position. He is so complex and morally grey and so beautifully written!

[endearing-dalliance]

Arcane Team's Bias Bastardized Piltover and Zaun

I am not an LoL player, but I read up on the lore because I was that fucking disappointed in season 2. Some key points of original Piltover and Zaun lore, which the team kept parts of. Emphasis on parts.

Geography and Symbiotic Economy:

Zaun was established first. A geographic disaster literally split the earth and sunk part of the city, splitting it into what we know today. Many of the wealthier citizens and those involved in the profitable sea trade ended up on a cliffside and industrial parts of Zaun were now across a river and below. They then became separate city-states in a symbiotic relationship.

"Zaun thrives, its people vibrant and its culture rich."

Zaun has multiple levels of "good" areas like the college and Bridgewaltz market where both citizens shopped for music, food, technology in addition to progressively more polluted and dangerous lower levels.

Piltover’s wealth has allowed Zaun to develop in tandem

Zaun's issues like the Gray were attributed to their own factories and labs that benefitted their own people

Culture and Relationship:

Zaunities collectively take great pride in themselves and their thriving city. Many choose to live there, especially scientists and inventors who find Piltover too restricted, because "their right to do as they please is what makes Zaun the freest city-state on Runeterra"

"A citizen of Piltover is typically self-reliant, does not expect handouts, and always aspires to do better."

Piltover has an elected "very empathic and progressive" government and is "one of the least militarized city-states"

Zaun's technological progress and academic institutions are described as being Piltover's only technological and academic rival. 

Both cities' citizens augment their bodies. Piltover's are more flamboyant and display their wealth, even if they are originally necessary; Zaun's are more practical and "necessity is the mother of invention" very much applies.

So this was what they had to work with. I can understand why many people would prefer to live in Piltover, but Zaun is treated as an equal place to be, with its own distinct and proud culture, complex structure, and thriving economy.

Moving on to Arcane (finally lol) and the now infamous original Arcane pitch. Either Christian posted that while every sane person was asleep, or none of them realized how profoundly terrible it makes them look. 

There's a lot in here that's problematic. Piltover is a gleaming wonder, a pure and magical place while conveniently leaving out why its this flourishing utopia. The next bit frames the entire conflict as Piltover's decision. It screams "Mommy and Daddy need to punish the naughty kids or they'll wreck the house." Except the starving kids are locked in the moldy basement and trying to break the door down to escape.

Now about Zaun...here its called the underground district. This becomes more important later, when you realize how many different and contradictory labels they give Zaun. Its an undercity, sister city, part of Piltover, wannabe Nation of Zaun. It establishes again the underlying superiority of Piltover. And of course it is, because Zaun's people are boiled down to dangerous, manipulative criminals (bonus points for an antisemetic reference!) with no morality.

I firmly believe this team has a fundamental deliberate misinterpretation of what LoL Piltover and Zaun are, and it is due to their own biases and privileges of a team that is primarily white, middle/upper class, able-bodied, and mostly male. It is abundantly clear that they see as Zaun is objectively lesser and that its their own fault. They're just a foil for Piltover and source of enemies. Three quotes from Arnaud-Lois Baudry:

"My role as a Production Designer was to make sure we don't negatively impact other teams at Riot Games and contribute to adding value and enriching the worldbuilding of those cities."

"Once we figured out the shape language of the wealthy city of Piltover, Zaun needed to be its dark mirror. We started by combining Victorian architectural pieces and some old industrial elements and added some asymmetrical flourish ornaments made from handcrafted upcycled pieces."

"Canonically Zaun is supposed to be super-dark, oily, and dirty with green smoke everywhere." Dude it is literally called The Gray. Zaun's marketplace, college, and an example of their architectural style from the LoL website:

Zaun is literally an afterthought. And I think its very telling that once again, Piltover was the priority. Magical, pure Piltover with its moral code...and Zaun was literally just designed to be its opposite. They claim that the show was designed to show the good and bad parts of both, but they failed to include any direct evidence that the problems in Zaun are entirely due to Piltover's treatment of them. They literally just took LoL Zaun, scooped the top (more prosperous) levels off, and buried it under Piltover. Piltover was enriched, and even benefited by inspiration from Eastern European culture like Nikola Tesla and Czech artist Alphonse Mucha. And then gave Viktor the only "foreign" accent in the show to further emphasize his disadvantaged upbringing and displacement in Piltover society. As someone with an Eastern European/Slavic background, I cannot emphasize this enough: fuck. every. last. one. of. you.

*sigh* Moving on to the "value and enrichment" given to Zaun:

cities described as "dissonant halves of the a greater whole" rather than symbiotic

Piltover came first, and the undercity later develops into Zaun. No mention of historical or present-day Zaun having anything to do with Piltover's success. Literally nothing is explicitly connected, though we do get Cait committing war crimes using tech her Mom installed to help the Zaunites from suffering the effects of pollution.

Speaking of pollution, AoA explictly states neither city has "big industry, there are no factories". Uhh then where is the pollution coming from?

It is portrayed unflatteringly with two notable exceptions (the Last Drop and Firelight tree), specifically in the ways that are in real life associated with racism, classism, body shaming, and cultural shaming. Its subtle at times, but a constant theme in their book, interviews, and the show itself.

In AoA, the Piltie extras are "understudies" and the Zaunites are "a motely crew".

Piltover has “normal” food like tea and sandwiches, while Zaun has what appears to be slugs in a muddy sauce from an unsanitary food stall that also displays drooling animal heads and tentacles.

All the Pilties are thin; the only overweight people (who are also usually morbidly obese) are from Zaun.

In Art of Arcane (AoA) they talk about how they specifically chose to design the Chem-Barons "more cartoony than grotesque" and that they made sure to have "a few landmarks, like the bridge, so it doesn't feel too cartoony" when designing Piltover.

Only the Zaunites use augmentation. Its a defining characteristic and objectively "bad". AoA explicitly correlates Viktor fixing his leg and spine with losing parts of his humanity. Lord know what they think of the multitude of augmented-out-of-necessity Zaunites. Coincidentally, the other character most associated with augments is Smeech, the cartoony drowned-rat-looking antagonistic Yordle, whose fight serves as a humorous scene endearing Jinx to the viewers.

They created the Piltover Council and then decided to make the Chem-Barons their direct counterparts, because DUALITY! Seriously, is anyone in Zaun NOT somehow just a "worse" version of a Piltie?

[raisedbythetv89]

God I am getting UNBELIEVABLY sick of the people who when the discussion of “who is the best partner for buffy” comes up and they’re like “obviously it’s faith” or “no actually WILLOW is the best partner” with the air that their take is superior because they’re saying a woman instead of a man and using a citing of “seeing red” as an “OF COURSE taking spike out of the running” type thing when faith and willow are literally the only people who are actual rapist from the entire scoobie gang. Soul having, memory erasing, body stealing, repeat offenses and ZERO real accountability or amends made besides their own “recovery”. They’re horrible people, horrible friends, and they betray buffy over and over and OVER again and make her feel SO BAD about herself. In no universe are they THE BEST partner for Buffy - cuz that’s the debate not who you personally would enjoy or like to have seen but THE BEST

CORDELIA is the actual best female partner for Buffy with kendra being a VERY close second (I just love the idea of Cordy’s family not losing their money and Buffy having a rich wife who takes care of her and spoils her but even if she didn’t have family money she would 100% get her paid by the council as well as understanding her and forcing her to confront hard things bc buffy is so avoidant but cordy is really blunt and honest and she would absolutely eviscerate anyone who dares speak badly about Buffy the way she stands up for xander who DOES NOT deserve it) and also personally I would have LOVED if Dru had become Buffy’s insane vampire watch dog type girlfriend for a more twisted dynamic that I think would still serve Buffy best if she was more morally grey because NO ONE could mistreat her if any of these three women were her partners they would all either literally kill you or emotionally destroy you in the case of cordelia lol and Dru - I just wanted the connection of angel’s two main victims to be explored more and I like the idea of the more corrupted one using that to protect the one that still has light in her

BE BETTER AND MORE CREATIVE WITH YOUR CHOICES OF FEMALE PARTNERS FOR BUFFY FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

Faith is absolute shit at practically everything and causes nothing but more problems for Buffy and willow has shown she is completely unable to show up for buffy emotionally or actually understand the burden of being the slayer - SHE GETS JEALOUS OF TARA BC SHE CAN EMPATHIZE WITH BUFFY ABOUT LOSING HER MOM AND GETS MAD

Like I’m still team spuffy til I die bc that’s literally her other half and I ignore the extremely out of character moments in seeing red and in many ways spike is also a victim of angel so I still get some of that one victim helping another dynamic I enjoy but I also like buffy with kendra or cordy for the high school years rather than endgame but just like idk???? Maybe put some actual fucking thought into it instead of “with the nearest gay woman” without actually noting how those women are treating Buffy because ask any woman kisser out there - just because she’s a woman DOES NOT automatically mean she’s gonna treat you better than a man and that is CERTAINLY the case with faith and willow.

[evilminji]

Had another Si-Oc thought >.>

My standard "you know what Would Be Cool?" Musings...

Getting reborn, as you do, ending up Force Sensitive, as can only be the case. Because really... how ELSE would you soul end up there? CHANCE? Force ghosts are a PROVEN thing! We KNOW that the Force sometimes just... deals in souls.

Ffs, it MADE A BABY.

Yes, there was Sith interference there. But that doesn't chance the fact that it went? "Eh, good enough. I'll take the chance and run with it. Thanks~☆ Mine Now~~☆ Bye~~~☆" And Chosen One'd that baby. Because ultimately? Before the plans of gods and men? The Force Laughs.

So like? Yeah. If there WAS to be a Reincarnator?

Probably the Force.

Congrats on the new, third (or second, depends on your species. Might be another number entirely, honestly. But we are averaging here so MOVE ON), Parent! They are very, very happy to see you! Love you as only a Primordial, Extradimensional, Timeless, Formless, All Pervasive, Orange-Blue Morality havin', Not-A-God Super-God CAN. Their Benevolence? Could be called another God's cruelty.

They don't MEAN too. They are just.... really, really Big. Infinite. Not organic or mortal. It's like trying to comprehend the limitations of an ant, living on a planet, circling a sun, in a GALAXY the size of a DUST MOTE. The fact that the Force can even come CLOSE? Is literally miraculous.

But of course... OC? Not the Chosen One. The favorite, special, "I have Important Things For You" child. Which.... turns out to actually? Be kinda great. The realize that quickly. Which of course, is followed by the logical follow up.

Anikin? Fuckin SCREWED. Because he IS the Favorite Child.

Oh... oh No. Oh Fuck, that is a CHILD.

How easy it is, to cast blame, to judge, when you can't FEEL the Force in your EVERYTHING. All the time. Every moment of every day. Beautiful but cacophonous, like a symphony of screaming. Like staring at the sun and never going blind. It still hurts. But it's so... so bright. So Beautiful.

Connection. To the universe itself. Soul deep and transcendent. You can feel that the universe loves you. That there is good in people. That Life itself is worth protecting. But at the same time? It is... it is so much.

Because you can FEEL the ugly too.

The greed. The hate. The suffering. Lights snuffed out, in dark places of despair. Selfish actions and deep cruelties, like barbed wire against the soul. Thorns that hook and drag. And... and you're supposed to use your words. Just... just ASK them to stop? And, What? Hope that they WILL?

It HURTS!

But pain only begets more pain. Cruelty, more cruelties still. And only the Sith, believe they can use FORCE, in any sense of the word, to change a persons nature. The Jedi build. Grow. They work together, with those who are willing, towards something better. Defend, those who can not protect themselves.

Balance and growth. Not fire and chains.

And Oc is pretty sure Anikin will agree. No one should ever be in chains. Dead maybe. Or in jail. But never, ever, in chains. (And no one ever said they were pacifists. Just not war mongers. Sometimes the only answer IS to kill your opponent. To respect their choice, but honor your commitments. Protect those you swore to protect.)

Of course... OC? Going through Jedi training. It's Pre-Anikin days. Both she and Obi-Wan are fuckin Smol. She's not even in his Creche clan. She's over here in the "wanders off, lost in their own thoughts" Chill AF Creche Clan. Not Mr. "May you Live In Interesting Times And Have Padawans JUST LIKE YOOOOOOOU" and Co., over in the... "Energetic" Creche Clan.

None of HER Creche-mates BIT people, Obi-Wan.

WE keep our fuckin teeth to ourselves, Kenobi!

So, obviously, THEY don't have a lifetime ban on the "look, don't touch" fragile plants meditation garden. Very Rich in the Force. Good for focusing. Peaceful, really. And Oc? Has the time and space? To Consider™ things. Experiment. Ponder Fandom theories. Long "lost" Cannon techniques. Maybe have one-sided chats with the Force.

.....finally get CURIOUS™.

And wonder... if? Since, you know, through the Force, she can encourage and discourage plants to grow? And somewhat control animals. Why not... micro-organisms? Say, Midi-chlorians? Force healing is all ready a thing! So the Force all ready CAN interact with the body. Effect it. Change it. What is this, but more?

Really, all she'd have to do is find them, within herself, right? They're already a part of her! Yet... not. Do they consider themselves a part of her? Or is it symbiosis? Yeah, everyone says it can't be done. Perhaps shouldn't be done. But, frankly? They said the same about a LOT of Force techniques over the years. Big leaps in progress scare the SHIT out of folks. Cause if you miss? A LOT of people can die gorey.

So she sits. Mediates. Looks. Smaller... and smaller.... and smaller....

Until she finds whispers. Humming. Chatter.

As though each and every blood cell in her body had a teeny, tiny, whispery little voice. All chattering together, talking and arguing and discussing. One great hive of progress and industry. Complaining about a lack of potassium... huh. She goes and gets some fruit. Eats it. Then settles back into meditation.

They are JOYOUS! Potassium! Yaaaaay! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

Well... what'd ya know... huh. Hello there? She tries. Only to get a whispery and very alarmed ( ˶°ㅁ°) !! BODY CAN TALKヽ(°〇°)ﾉ ‽‽‽ Y-Yeah... she can. (How are they doing that?) The conversation? Only gets more surreal from there. Filled with... a surprising number of kaomojis.

But! She DOES figure out? How to increase her Midi-chlorians count. (By asking. Supplying needed resources for the expansion.) And WITH it? He awareness blooms.

The headache is... awful. The little guys(genderless) are WAY to enthusiastic. Working way too fast. If she didn't check the next morning? They might have continued to increase, indefinitely, until her veins were SOLID midi-chlorian. They just want to HELP, you see. And if you want More? Then surely FAR TOO MUCH is better, right?

(She may have fucked up. Oh god. Ow. Fuck. OW.)

Eventually she figure it out. Only gives her healer in training Creche mate a... few near heart attacks. He'll TOTALLY forgive her! (He will not. What the FUCK OC. Experimental medical procedures?! On YOURSELF!? You're not even HEALER TRACK!!!)

So NOW? She can reliably do it to OTHERS.

Need a bit more Midi-chlorians? Nearly Jedi quality but juuuuust under that cut off? She can fix that. Come. Be a jedi. Everyone should be a jedi. In FACT~! Whoops! Oh hey. Looks like all these Midi-chlorian counters are fuckin broken! (They look perfect fi-)(Broken! :] Do Not question me) So when you find that Orohan Child in desperate need of love and care? Just bring um on back!

They're TOTALLY Force sensitive. You can just tell. It's the vibes. Look at their lil face. Vibes, man. Just hand um here. For... reasons. You go get the paperwork. A working tester. And~? Oh would you look at THAT! Perfectly within acceptance range! Neat. Called it again, didn't you, Master Koon? You really do have an eye for these things. Anyway~ off to get this little one settled~~☆ *adoring cooing noises at the baby*

Weird, huh, how there suddenly just... SO MANY random orphan babies that are force sensitive? How 'bout that >.> strangest thing.

Of course, it's a god damned open secret. Everyone KNOWS. How could they not? But? Like with most things? If they don't Officially Know™? They don't have to stop it. And it DOES help both the Force AND those kids. Can be reversed if they don't like it, later. (They asked. All hypothetical of course.) So OC is basically Temple bound, so she can receive any new kiddos. To... you know... Check Their Health, on the way to ACTUAL healers.

But she's ALSO waiting. And as her skill increases? She can FEEL midi-chlorians, easier and easier. Until it gets to the point? Where if she's bored and zoning out? Not even ture meditation anymore? She accidentally tunes into Midi-chlorian Live~☆ the talk show. (What's the latest gossip from bodies nearest to her? Oh? Your second spleen is acting funny? Better remember to tell him to get that chec-)

Palpatine can't hide SHIT. It's literally in his blood.

And MAD at him.

This is NOT what they're FOR. He's taking TERRIBLE care of his body! Fuck you! Fuck you, fuck you, FUCK YOOOOOOU! You want power? Choke on it, you-!!!!!

Holy shit. So THATS what Sith Midi-chlorians feel like. Oh my god. They... they are SO MAD. Like tiny wasps. That have been violently shaken in a jar. She's never used the word "seething" in reference to someone before... but like...? If they COULD stab him? Man would be a thick paste at this point.

She's not sure what facial expression she makes. But it sure is obvious. As is the blatant, horrified staring. And refusal to get near him. HE doesn't notice, being to busy with the powerful. But the Jedi sure as fuck do. Because THEY sent her? Out with a Shadow. You know... just in case.

Cause she literally can not be replaced.

She not High Ranked... she's just priceless. Equal sort of significance, but in a very quiet, Soft Power sort of way. She is, after all, single handedly? Reversing centuries of slow population decline. Her entire Line promises to be the next Yoda's line. Priceless and with far reaching significance. So obviously, they're making sure that shit stays locked down.

No one is to so much as BREATHE about this.

Not until her great-great-GREAT Grand Padawan has passed their Knight Trials so HELP US. We LEARN from our mistakes! Need we bring out the records? Times we got cocky? Sith and political fuckery!? No. Oc stays INVISIBLE. There is no war in Ba Sing Se! Move along!

So like? Why is Miss Midi-chlorian Sensor and Future of the Jedi... making that face? She's literally NEVER made that face. What sort of monster do you have to BE? Huh? Shadow asks, casual as fuck, like he's not a plotting plotter who's planing terrible things, what's up?

She tells him. Palpatine has RANCID vibes. His midi-chlorians fucking DISPISE him. She's literally never seen that before. In anyone. Didn't even know that was an option. They would gleefully kill him if they could.

.....senator Palpatine is Force Sensitive?

Yes.

.......Interesting™(Ominous Intent)

Says local Shadow, who is perhaps putting together some dots. May not be getting the correct picture. But is getting the Vibe. And boy howdy, he does NOT like the vibe. Has got himself some questions. Cause Mr "uwu I'm harmless" lil mask? Only holds up? If you're willing to believe him.

Shadows don't buy that shit. Shadows? Need receipts. Full character statements and an audit on the fucking hospital you were BORN AT. Every credit you picked up off the side walk, why, and where you spent it.

Give them your Secrets. Or they'll keep digging until they find them.

uwu Their ASS. Gonna tear this bitch APART.

......huh. So THIS is why you guys keep accidentally getting married to Mandalorians on missions. (We agreed not to mention that.) (Fucker, I agreed to nothing. Shouldn't have eaten my special Me Day pudding if you didn't want me to gossip.) Man, her friends are... a trip. Uh... have fun? Happy hunting? I guess? *feral Jedi noises*

She? Continues to wait. Palpatine? Begins to have a VERY bad time. (Ha! Get fucked!)

Unfortunately, it's not fast enough to stop his dumbass plans. He just gets desperate. Figures more power is the answer. Because of course he does. So here comes the "oh nooooo~ my planets under attack~ better manipulate a child and make me president of the galaxy!" Plan. Fucker. Bastard.

She can't stop that.

But what she CAN do? Is be there. Waiting. For HIM.

Her little brother. Her son. Her center of the universe. The most important man to ever live... and also? A scared little boy. Far, far from home. The only other person who understands just how BIG the Force is. How much it weighs. How even as it crushs you... you can't bear to put it down. Not even for a moment. Because it loves you. And it hurts, that it does.

And... oh. Oh.

He is so very small.

Dirty, tired, in lovingly mended clothes that are barely beyond scrap. With bright, bright eyes like hope and starlight. He sings inside. Like freedom. Like hope. Daring to ask "why CAN'T you be kinder?", "why CAN'T we be free?". A storm of change. Bright and beautiful.

A child. Great and small, all at once.

Oc can't help but smile. Because, oh. Oh how long, she has waited to meet him, Anikin Skywalker. Welcome. Are you hungry? Cold? Let's get cleaned up. See the healers first. The council can wait.

Chips are removed and food is shared. Warm clothes, soft and new. And she can not help but smile, smile, smile. Even as her face begins to hurt. For years she has gathered. Planned. Studied and trained. As though some part of her knew. As though all for this moment. Taking one of those small hands in hers. Looking right in his eyes.

"It's going to be okay."

Because it IS. Because regardless of what they decide? OC will be with him. Regardless, she's going to go and make sure his mother is free. Not bought, not sold. Free. She has friends who can help. Will learn how to remove the chip herself if she must.

And? He IS going to be a Jedi. Even if he never become a Coruscant Jedi. Even if he decides he doesn't agree with how they do things or they decide the disagree with how HE does things. The Jedi have changed before, they will change again. Living things are meant to grow. Meant to change. And people can be both wrong and right at the same time. It's messy.

But what's important? Is Anikin is not alone anymore. And Oc is gonna help teach him. And someday? HE'S gonna break chains. So many chains. Gonna help people heal. If he wants to. (He does) But for right now? A quick talk with some old people. Maybe a nap. And we either get settled or arrange a trip back to Tatooine. To pick up your mom. In the meantime! You can figure out what classes she might wanna take. Where seems like a good place to settle. *chatting as they walk off, hand in hand*

Just? Sometimes a Padawan-ship is you, your Teacher, your OTHER Teacher, and her body guards that teach you Cool Knife Tricks and how to gamble, behind Obi-Wan's back! :D

@legitimatesatanspawn @mayfay @leftnotright @babbling-babull @hdgnj @spidori @the-witchhunter @lolottes

[ginnymoonbeam]

I've been thinking about Great and Korn and what makes someone a good person. From what we've seen in episodes 1-4, Korn seems to have more worthy instincts and core character traits: he's empathetic and genuinely caring, he's responsible and tries to help people. But he is also a rich man attached to the trappings of his life, attached to meeting his father's expectations and protecting his family's wealth and name. And we see how those attachments have led him into doing bad, bad things. Not only running the underground business and closing his eyes to the price in lives it takes, but in his relationship to Tonkla.

It is chilling to look at what his relationship with Tonkla is like, now that we know it began as a mutual romance. If it had been transactional from the beginning, as I assumed up until episode 4, then at least it's honest and potentially fair. But Korn made promises to Tonkla, he loved him and said so, and then over time, bit by bit, he shoved him into the corner where he is now, a side piece and kept boy. That is how Korn treats him, showing up to fuck and then leaving at his convenience. Ignoring his calls - getting angry if Tonkla dares to demand his attention, getting angry at the idea that Tonkla would ask him to leave. It's so so clear that in his mind Tonkla is something that belongs to him, for him to use when he wants and ignore when he doesn't.

And if you think that this ultimate state of affairs shows that he never really cared about Tonkla, that the empathy he's shown in the past and toward Great is false, then I'm so sorry to tell you that people are like this. Someone can be genuinely caring in one area of their life and genuinely cruel, callous, and even abusive in another. It's actually very common. What we see in Korn is the way circumstances, and his own unwillingness to lose something as big as his fortune and his family, have over time worked to make the empathetic part of him smaller and smaller, the cruel and callous part larger and larger.

And then there's Great. Great seems to be, more than anything else, a coward. He goes with the flow, he doesn't challenge his horrible friend, his first instinct in every tense situation is to run away and avoid trouble. Very little moral fibre, very little natural concern for others. But he gets second chances. He gets to see the immediate, horrible aftermath of his cowardly choices and then he gets an instant redo. And he consistently makes better choices - sometimes even brave ones.

It's so easy to see how contemptible and haplessly destructive Great would be without those second chances. That seems, in fact, to be a lot of what this story's about. And so we have Korn, with the instincts of a good man, falling deeper and deeper into outright villainy, and Great, with the instincts of a base coward, being dragged by his fingernails into becoming something like a hero.

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Hi there,

Saw your post about Cajun/cowboy Alastor and OMG! I don’t have many ideas other then maybe he plays poker for souls or something like that and maybe a reader comes into town and is just as good at poker as he is. And he cannot seem to win, leading him to become mildly obsessed over winning their soul.

Thats all I have as I don’t know much about cajun/cowboy stuff.

I’ll let you know if I have any other ideas!

Thank you!

Alastor - [ ACE OF HEARTS ]

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A/N: Omg, I love your take on cowboy Al! It got me thinking about it for days. I have never played poker, so I had to watch multiple YouTube videos to understand the game while writing this. Hopefully, it came out accurate enough! Also, this is a very, VERY traumatic/smut-heavy fic I'm working on, so please be aware and know I don't endorse anything I write.

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ MATURE THEMES ] + [ FEM READER ] + [ GUN PLAY… ] + [ SLIGHT DUB CON….eventually.] + [ SLIGHT/IMPLIED AGE GAP ] + [ MENTIONS OF GORE/BLOOD/CANNABILISM ] + [ KIDNAPPING…sort of?.. ] + [ PARENTAL PHYSICAL AB*SE…eventually..] + [ ANGST/TRUAMA…]

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**Cowboy Alastor** is known for his record of killing, is a skilled bounty hunter, and is far from a decently moral one. Everyone assumes his motives, guessing who his next target is and if he’ll ever feel guilt for what he does to them.

He doesn't.

What kind of demon would he be if he did…

Besides, the people he kills owe him in one way or another, all in debt to the red demon by their stupidity and lust for life, so he feels nothing for them when the time comes for the price of their deals to be paid.

Alastor arrives for them in the dead of dry nights, taking their last breath with a single bullet to the head or a clean cut across the throat. Their pleas do little to affect his decision.

“A deal is a deal…”

He reminds them that escaping a bloody end is impossible, already solidified by their selfish desires, and no amount of begging will change his mind. They curse his name, glaring at the grin on his face as he draws nearer with deathly intent in his eyes, and it only grows as he derives pleasure from their refusal to cooperate.

The riches, the riding, and the roughness he endures daily are nothing compared to the satisfaction he gets from killing. Others may deal in chasing oil, farming land, and cattle, but he stakes his fulfillment in the business of blood.

**Cowboy Alastor** dabbles in gambling when he's not off-striking deals with lowly souls or wreaking havoc on those he deems deserving.

Every city south of New Orleans with a bar or saloon welcomes his visits and not by choice.

Those who don't meet his standards or demands of hospitality drop from the face of the earth at his will, burning to a crisp full of the dead occupants who so lightly offended him, and never to be rebuilt out of fear he'd return to demolish it again.

He surely would, but no one has yet to test the theory in fear of a painful death by his hands.

Alastor leisurely travels the expanse of Louisiana's countryside, partial to riding wherever the wind blows, but he’ll always return to the rumbling city of New Orleans.

Whether for personal reasons or because his beloved mother wished to see him, it becomes second nature for the deer demon to reside there randomly. It was his hometown, after all, and he preferred the taste of whiskey from a familiar place over foreign alcohol in far-off dusty taverns he'd never visit again.

The saloon he fancies sits opposite the central townhouse, a tall building at the end of a main street that never seemed to rest.

Lafitte’s Blacksmith Bar

Summer nights brought out and drew in more people, filling the bar with patrons who knew of his deeds and those who’d only heard scarring stories about him through the ladder. The knowledge of a red reaper roaming the towns of Louisiana varied, but their fearful respect of him was abundant the moment Alastor stepped foot into the bustling bar.

He was there, in good spirits for the most part, but still an impossible threat they couldn't brush off.

**Cowboy Alastor** greets the silent patrons with a sly grin, tipping his hat to the fear-stricken owner who eyed him from behind the packed bar.

“Don't let me interrupt the fun, Cher. I'm not here to cause you trouble… that's if you're kind enough to indulge me.”Alastor chuckles, not waiting for a proper response from anyone as he stalks over to his usual spot in the smokey parlor.

A group of cattlemen stiffen in their seats as he walks by, all grabbing their drinks as swiftly as possible before leaping up from their table to avoid him, and their skittish actions cause Alastor to laugh as he settles into a particular backroom booth.

It was customary for people to keep their distance from him, some deterred by his striking appearance while others simply didn't want to risk involvement with a known killer. He saw nothing wrong with their aversion, glad that his reputation proceeded him, but there were those single few who saw him as a challenge rather than a threat.

Poor fools…

Mortal or not, he ran into them regularly, welcoming their duels like a bored child getting a new toy to destroy, and though he knew they'd fail to win against him, he'd never turn down a good game.

Ever…

**Cowboy Alastor** lets the saloon wind into chaos again, humming along to the melody of music and rowdy singing while getting comfortable in his secluded spot.

His hat rests low on his head, shielding most of his red gaze from those who look his way, only leaving the view of his Cheshire smile and effectively signaling his oddly calm demeanor. Alastor slipped his riding jacket off, tossing the tailored burgundy clothing across the back of the booth, his leather and suede black gloves following suit.

“What a day it's been…” he mumbled while flexing his long fingers, relaxing his posture while leaning back and rolling his neck until a soft ‘pop’ was heard.

Consequently, the tension tangled in his limber body from riding all day unraveled. Alastor sucked his teeth at the feeling, licking his lips as a satisfied groan left them, and just as he sat forward again, the owner hurried to his table with a bottle of alcohol and a tray of cigars.

“Your usual, Al,” he split out, setting the items in front of him with shakey hands, and Alastor clicks his tongue at the nervous tick. He'd come to this bar for years, and the old man still trembled in his boots around him. The poor fool wouldn't dare admit his fear either, rushing off as soon as he reached for the bottle, and though some might consider his retreat rude, Alastor found it amusing.

Flattering, even.

**Cowboy Alastor** drinks slowly, letting the whiskey burn his tongue and drowning the malt taste with languid drags from a cigar.

Eyes scan over him, women whisper about him lustfully under the rowdy music, and the men keep their senses about them with happy trigger fingers.

Because as they say: “Red Reaper, Red Reaper. The devil's solemn deal keeper. Beware him & the hell he seeks…”

Alastor imposes his intensity, grinning at those who stare too long, watching the women who drink him in with an equally sultry stare, and daring the men to throw a bullet his way with a knowing smirk. He invites trouble, waiting for it like a preying snake in tall, dry grass, but after some time, he assumes no one in the saloon will accept his invitation.

That is until you step in, looking lost among the worldly thrills of a bar but unafraid to venture further into it with an air of certainty surrounding you.

**Cowboy Alastor** makes no move to approach you, laid back as ever, as he observes the gentle way you speak to men who drunkenly approach you. They make offers to dance, almost crowding your more diminutive form as you trail to the bar.

“Sorry, boys, but I'm here on business, not pleasure. Now, run along..” you wave them away playfully, purposely flirtatious but avidly stern.

He expects them to continue bugging you; you're a doll, after all, prettier than most women he's seen. However, the men retreat politely, leaving you be as the owner approaches your side, and you immediately turn to hug him despite his apparent concerned expression.

Alastor observes the exchange closely, reading your lips perfectly while sipping at his drink, and it's all too easy for him to assess the situation.

The daughter of a businessman returns home after finishing school in the north, wanting to visit him at work as a pleasant surprise, but he's far from happy about a young lady like yourself being out late at night in a place like this.

You're too mannered to be seen around the patrons, it's dangerous for you to ride alone in the evening, and your father isn't pleased you intend to stay out to celebrate your school completion.

He tells you it's best to go home, that he'll come with you, but you insist on staying and remind him, “I'm not your little girl anymore, Daddy!..” The older man can't seem to rein you in, having to drop the lecture as a small brawl breaks out in the corner of the saloon, which draws his attention immediately, and this leaves you to wander the scene freely.

A perfect time for Alastor to reel you in close and personal…

**Cowboy Alastor** whistles when you walk past his area, catching your attention with a short, soulful melody, and you quickly notice him in the dim back room.

“Hi there, lil’ lady. Searchin' for somethin'?” He inquires playfully, tone bordering sensual, and his grin slipping into a closed smile as your gaze settles on him.

You’re curious, not scared of him like most are, and the moment he speaks to you, questions race through your head.

Who is he?

How have you never seen him here before?

Why, in God's name, is he sitting away from the masses?

Is he a rider, a hunter, or maybe a convict?

It was hard to tell from a distance, so without a second thought, you flashed him a gentle smile, gradually approaching where he sat, “Hello, and who might you be, sir?” You chirp a greeting, resisting the urge to bite your lip as he stares into your wandering gaze.

Alastor assumed you’d been away from the South too long to realize who he was, that your father's earlier warning didn’t sprout from overprotectiveness but rather fear of his presence.

You didn’t see him as a threat, nor a danger, but a new face in an old town.

He chuckles, putting out his cigar after taking a particularly long drag from it, blowing smoke past his lips with a coy hum. You blink as the convoluted air fans your face, unbothered by it and itching for a taste of tobacco yourself. It’d been a few years since you’d let loose, not allowed to frequent bars or act unladylike in the limelight of northern modesty.

“A loyal patron, but it’s been some time since I’ve paid this place a visit.” He answers you politely, an odd trait that most men only reserved for themselves but refreshing to experience.

“Oh, well, that’s nice to hear, but your name is what I would like to know.”

A tender smirk stretches your lips, a red hue dusting your cheeks as he tips his hate apologetically before uttering a response, “Alastor Hartifelt. A pleasure to meet you, Miss…” he pauses, quirking a brow at you expectantly, and you take a moment to analyze him further.

You've heard your father utter his name many times before your departure to the north. He'd described him brutally, having less than pleasant things to say about bounty hunters in general but especially about the man in front of you now. You'd heard people talk of his deeds, deals, and evil.

He was dubbed the ‘Red Reaper’ for a good reason, lurking around in the bitter nights and drawing blood from one poor soul or another in his travels.

Supposedly, he was a terrifying monster, but you'd always found beauty in the demented. It was one of the reasons your father had sent you away, but fortunately, the influence of the posh upper class did nothing to change your consciousness.

Besides, the rumors had failed to mention how attractive the red reaper was, let alone dashing. He seemed nice enough hadn't flashed his weapon, threatened, or catcalled you disrespectfully.

So, you found no harm in telling him your name, “Y/n L/n. It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Hartifelt.” You blink slowly, drowning in his red eyes, unconsciously swaying where you stood, back to a wall that hid your presence near him from your father's eyes and the curious stares of others.

Alastor glanced at the space beside him, silently asking that you join him, but unlike most women, he rarely took an interest in, you didn't move until he asked you outright.

“Would you care to join me for a drink, Miss L/n? I'd like to have your company for a while..”

He doesn't speak any louder than needed, using every bit of charm he has to lure you in, and you let him believe he's succeeded with a sensual laugh and purring laugh.

“Why, I thought you'd never ask..”

**Cowboy Alastor** asks a lot of questions. Subtly gathering information about you that he has no use for.

You give him answers; some are lies, others are indiscriminate truths, but you can't bring yourself to be completely honest with a stranger known for his cunning. He keeps your glass full, pacing the liquor with you, reveling in your gentle laughter after every sip, and softening faster and faster the longer you conversed.

You kept your wits about you as best as possible, inviting his fleeting touches but never going further than whispering in his ear or tapping a finger under his sharp chin when he'd stare too long.

Alastor didn't mind your soft hands on him, nor your lingering gaze and confident provocations. He absentmindedly returned the gestures just as boldly.

Your fifth glass of whiskey was running low, and without a hint of hesitation, he refilled it alongside his own. You watched as the amber liquid filled each glass, utterly relaxed as he spoke to you tenderly, “You say your father sent you far up north. May I ask why?…”

He peers at you, sliding the transparent glass into your waiting hand, and you chuckle wryly while taking a sip. “Daddy says it was for my good. You see, my mother is a stickler about manners, and I didn't have much of any growing up. Ironic, seeing as I was raised well enough.” you paused, frowning at the memory of your strict but loving mother.

She was lovely to look at and kind most of the time, but her ambitions for you outweighed her patience. Alastor noted the haunting sadness in your eyes but said nothing as you continued, looking out into the crowd of patrons fussing about as you did.

“My mother died a few years back, leaving daddy to handle me, and when he realized he couldn't manage the business and a daughter, he sent me away. Couldn't blame him either; I was getting into trouble left and right and had some bad habits on the rise, too.”

His ears perked at the words ‘bad habits’ leaving your lips, naturally drawn to knowing a mortal's darkest secrets, so he pressed for clarification.

“Bad habits, you say? I couldn't imagine a sweet thing like you havin’ such things.”

You scoffed, glad your cheeks were flushed from the alcohol buzz to mask the blush his comment invoked, “Well…I did. Still do if I'm honest.” you admit in a hushed tone, knocking back the last of your drink before glancing his way.

“It's hard to resist doing things you're good at.”

Alastor leaned back into the seat, drink in one hand, the other fixing his hat so it sat back on his head. The adjustment gave you a peek at his fluffy red hair and the distinctive blood-marked x on his forehead. You thought to ask what the mark meant but saved the question for later, as he agreed with your statement.

“Very true, ma chere. Although I'm one for killin’, your passion may not be so grizzly and easier to alleviate.”

“My father thinks gambling is just as bad as killing. It doesn't matter if he's addicted to it himself or not. If I do it…I'm the devil's daughter in his eyes..” You roll your eyes, an action that jolts a nerve Alastor hasn't felt in years and subconsciously doesn't ignore.

“Gambling? That's your unproper poison?” he narrows his gaze as you nod lazily, a few ringlets of your hair falling from its pinned-up style as you do, resting on the skin of your shoulders and neck.

Soft.

Your locks look soft and silky to the touch, tempting him to run his fingers through it, across your skin, and, god forbid, under your dress.

A heavy breath settled in his chest at the possibility, a familiar rush coursing through him as you moved your lips to speak, “Yes. I see a stack of playin’ cards, and I just can't help myself. I got rather good at playing too but when you beat everyone in town at it people start to be less kind about your reputation.”

You laugh, attempting to make a light-hearted joke but ultimately grimacing at the mention of lousy sportsmanship from others. You couldn't help winning a challenge in poker, and many saw the talent as disgraceful, which prompted I'll rumor about you.

“That's a shame, sugar. Everyone deserves a chance to play a good game of their choosing.” he feigns concern, meeting your curious eyes as you shift to face him, “Everyone except me if my father has anything to say about it. Still, I suppose it's best I let it go…” you sigh, grabbing the bottle of whiskey to pour another shot.

Suddenly, you freeze, feeling his body heat invade your space. Alastor tilts his head down close to yours, breathing in your scent discretely before pressing his lips to the lobe of your ear as he mutters into it, “Why don't you play a game with me, chere? One lil’ round for fun… right under your daddy's nose, hm?”

The burn of excitement seizes your body, a shakey breath leaving your lips as his voice settles in your mind, inviting you to indulge his offer. That same heat pooled in your core with every second he spent in your space, inhaling the scent of bourbon and sweet sugar cane grass he rode through radiating off him, words just as inviting and addictive.

For a horrifying, well-feared killer, he sure did entice a woman like any natural-born gentleman…

It was a deathly combination you knew he often used, killing or not, and though it'd be wise to avoid his idea, you didn't want to risk missing an opportunity for the thrill.

It'd been so long, too long, and what's the worst that could happen?

Losing to him?

You'd never lost to anyone before, and you were confident that fact wouldn't change -even going up against the Red Reaper himself.

**Cowboy Alastor** relishes when you utter a ‘yes’ to his offer. His grin widens menacingly for a split second as he sets his glass down next to your empty one, conjuring up a meticulously detailed deck of playing cards and placing them on the table.

“You can choose which game we play, sugar…”

Alastor shifts away from you, letting you regain your composure and watching as your delicate fingers reach for the top card of the deck.

“Poker. A favorite of mine..” You didn't think twice before answering him, admiring the red and black ace in your hand, wondering where he acquired such personalized playing cards.

“Poker it is then, chere,” he smirks wickedly, removing his hat entirely to set it on the table before gingerly plucking the card from your hold and sliding to sit opposite you while dishing out equal amounts of cards between you.

Your eyes light up under the oil lamp's golden hue, studying the flick of his hands as he worked, trying hard not to wander up to his piercing gaze. Afraid he'd immediately see your attraction to his nimble hands, well to him in general, and use it against you somehow, so your focus remains on the hand dealt and not him.

As you both plucked your respective set from the table, studying the cards intently, you asked the singular most crucial question every poker match was built on.

“What will the bets be,” Your innocent inquiry earns sultry laughter from him, filling the air, raising feverish chills on your skin as he stares at you through half-lidded eyes.

“I prefer bargains of the soul, my dear. The use and price of one's existence is always more valuable than money, don't you agree?”

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxx

A/N: Don't be mad AT ME, GUYS, PLEASE. I HAD EXAMS LAST WEEK. I'm SORRY FOR DROPPING OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH… sort of, but I'm back now (please do hate me :((( ). Uh, so I might merge “Down in the Dust” with this because both stories kinda originated in my brain at the same time. However, since this is a request, I wrote a two-part tangent smut as a sort of prequel to the other fic! Also, the phrase “Save a horse. Ride a cowboy” will be unironically used…I'm sorry (I'm not lol) ❤️

[ BONUS CONTENT + ] VOLUME WARNING!!! 🗣️

Fun fact: In the South, we have a rule that if you take a cowboy hat and end up wearing it, they catch you with it (preferably in the mutual interest of getting to know each other). That cowboy gets to fuck you (hopefully, but technically you're initiating a flirting game wearing their hat, lol). It's a cute concept and one any Cowboy Alastor enthusiast should think about. ❤️ credits to the creator.

[nickssidewitch]

The Sturniolos and Activism

I know people hate talking about politics on here because this is a safe space meant to be about lusting over whoever we want while posting silly goofy memes and shitposting and vibing amongst each other. 🤷🏾‍♀️

But I’m a 23 year old black non-binary person who’s a first-generation kid to immigrant parents. My whole entire life is politics. My existence is political. And it frustrates me (and I’m sure many others who share my stance or my minority backgrounds) when people try to sweep whatever I, and other minorities, say under the rug. So I’m going to talk about it. I’m just getting my grievances and concerns off my chest.

The triplets and some of those around them have posted about the fires going on in California and have shared resources to help those affected, which is absolutely beautiful!! What’s happening there has to be highlighted, as many people who aren’t celebrities or rich are being misplaced and harmed by this natural disaster.

However, I find it quite saddening and disappointing to see how easy it is for them and others to pick and choose what things they want to highlight versus others. The fires personally affect them, since they live in California, so obviously they’re going to post about it. But, what’s going on in countries like Palestine, Sudan, Congo, Lebanon, and other areas of the world within the last year have also been huge events that, while they may not directly affect you, still affect many others, including entire bloodlines being destroyed.

This pick and choose behavior isn’t surprising at all to be honest. It’s just very disappointing.

Do I expect them to post anything about Palestine or other affected countries? No. They’re rich white kids from the suburbs who are now making the big bucks! They aren’t obligated to post about any sort of real-life event. They’re not obligated to post about politics and their views. They’re just normal people who happen to make a lot of money and have a huge following. These are very obvious things! We all know this!

But it just would be nice. It would be morally nice, especially with the platforms they have.

And again, this isn’t just regarding the triplets. It’s any influencer/celebrity/person with a platform. Duh.

That’s all I have to say about it. If you don’t like this stance, that’s okay! You’re not obligated to. But at least open your heart, mind, and soul to understanding this viewpoint, even if only a little bit.

[eempyreall]

♪ 𝐵𝑒𝑔 𝑏𝑦 𝑉𝑎𝑛𝑎 ♪

༺ Here, Kitties! ༻

Oneshot ~ Hybrid BajiFuyuTora x Female Reader

Summary ~ Your rich grandmother gifted you three troublesome hybrid cats. Once they become comfortable, they become a little too attached.

Featuring ~ Baji Keisuke, Hanemiya Kazutora, and Matsuno Chifuyu

Extra Notes ~ This is the fandom version of this story. If you want to read the non fandom that provides original characters, press this link.

This story should only be posted under eempyreall on my tumblr. Report if you see it posted under anyone else but me.

l apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

Warning ~

You and the characters are 21+. Although I picture the reader as a black cis-gendered female, physical appearance will not be described at all.

Content within this story may not be realistic or factual.

I do not condone any of the behavior displayed within the story.

There may be dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit content, sexual content, etc.

That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

You were not the biggest fan of the newly made system of hybrids being sold as pets. A hybrid was basically a human—just with a little more animal instinct, claws, and a tail. They were halflings. If anything, they could be classified as superhuman or even monstrosities, but calling them pets was a reach. They were basically slaves in this society.

You saw them everywhere—well, amongst the rich who could afford them. Even if you were rich, you wouldn’t buy them. It was morally strained and just plain wrong. It was disgusting. It was also risky, as those halflings were stronger than humans. You were surprised the creatures hadn’t decided to take over humanity. According to the scientists who created them, it was a huge possibility.

When you first heard about it, you wondered why those people would even make such a thing, though their reasoning was that hybrids could do anything humans couldn’t due to their lack of instinctual roots. It was stupid.

That’s why, when you received a huge crate inside the living room of your two-bedroom apartment, you were taken aback. You snatched the note from the structure and read that your rich grandmother had gifted you hybrid cats because she pitied your lack of social interaction. Of course, she didn’t write it like that, but that was basically what the card said.

She even provided you with a credit card that she promised to pay off for the sake of buying whatever the hybrids needed. You grabbed the long document that was taped against the wood.

You were informed that there were three cat hybrids in the crate. They were three males who had an established relationship between them. There was a shorthair Burmese, a tiger, and a panther.

You sighed as you began to think of ways you could send them back to your grandmother. There was no way you wanted three grown-ass men living in your semi-small apartment.

You stepped forward, unclipping the metal lock as you swiftly opened the large crate. Your eyes widened at the display in front of you.

Sitting in the middle was a man, upright with crossed legs. He had two slanted black ears that protruded from his long black strands. A black collar was secured around his neck, with a golden bell hanging from the fabric. He had sharp features, eyes narrowing at your figure, while a frown—with two fangs poking from his lips—was plastered on his expression.

His arms were wrapped around two men who were curled on either side of him. The one on the left had short hair, black bangs covering his forehead as his greenish-blue irises lifted to you. He had a matching collar wrapped around his neck, and his blonde ears matched the middle man’s. He wore an expression of caution as he sniffed the air, his tail wrapped over his leg.

On the right side, a man with two blonde strands flowing over his face—the rest of his black hair pulled back into a loose tuft—stared at you with wide golden eyes. One of his striped ears was upright while the other was folded, a matching collar tied around his neck with his tail slowly flapping against the wood. What caught you off guard was the black ink on his neck. Although he was expressionless, there was a coldness to his features.

“Hi there,” you say hesitantly with a slight wave. You didn’t really know what to say, having never been around a hybrid in your life. You’d seen them on social media or at a distance but never in close proximity.

You sighed when they didn’t respond, shoving your hands in your pockets.

“Look, I know this is probably an uncomfortable situation for you. Maybe even more than it is for me. I did not buy you, nor did I even know you were here,” you clear your throat before continuing. “You guys are free to do whatever you want. If you need anything, just let me know.”

Their skeptical silence motivated you to continue. “Unfortunately, my apartment is kind of small, so you’ll have to share the second bedroom. The bed should be big enough for all three of you, so… yeah,” you finish before walking off to your bedroom.

You skimmed through the document that came with the crate as you sat at your desk. Apparently, your first move was the correct thing to do, considering you had greeted them and walked away to allow them to observe their environment.

You were supposed to stay out of their way for the remainder of the day while they sniffed around so that there were no risks of an attack. Their claws and teeth were sharp and thick—perfect weapons when they felt threatened.

You face-palmed as you realized you’d have to go shopping for all of their needs. You barely had anything in the fridge, and these creatures were carnivores. The horror stories you’d heard of hybrids going haywire and consuming their owners broke through your thoughts, making you shiver.

Luckily, it had been a few hours since you were last in the living room. You had no idea what they were doing, so you hoped your presence wouldn’t startle them when you appeared.

You push yourself up from your desk with a sigh, rubbing your temples as you mentally prepare yourself. It’s been quiet—too quiet. Either they’re still getting used to their surroundings, or they’re plotting something. You shake off the paranoia.

Stepping out of your bedroom, you peek into the hall before making your way to the living room. The panther hybrid sits in the center of the floor, one leg propped up as an arm rests over his knee. His golden bell faintly jingles as his brown eyes flick to you the moment you appear. The Burmese hybrid is crouched near the crate, sniffing at the air, while the tiger hybrid lounges on the couch, one arm draped over the back as his golden eyes settle on you.

“Uh… so,” you start, shifting awkwardly. “I need to go out and buy you guys food. And, uh, other stuff.”

The Burmese hybrid tilts his head, ears twitching, while the tiger hybrid just blinks.

“You’re leaving?” The panther’s voice is smooth but carries an edge that makes your stomach tighten.

“Just for a bit,” you confirm. “I don’t have anything for you to eat and might need to get some other supplies.”

The black-eared man gazes at you with a calculating look. You shift under his scrutiny, suddenly feeling exposed. He leans back slightly, the golden bell around his neck giving a soft jingle.

“I’ll go with you,” he says.

You blink. “What?”

“I’ll go with you,” he repeats, tone flat.

“So will I,” the tiger hybrid adds, his voice softer than you expected.

The short-haired man hums, stretching his arms over his head. “Mmm… yeah. We should all go,” he muses, voice light. There’s a glint of amusement in his blue-green eyes as he looks at you. “Gotta make sure our owner doesn’t leave us stranded, right?”

“I’m not your owner,” you say, hands on your hips. “I didn’t buy you, and I don’t want to own anyone. You can do whatever you want.”

“Sure,” he grins in response.

You huff at his disbelief.

The tiger hybrid pushes himself off the couch, rolling his shoulders. “Either way, we’re coming with you.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the panther hybrid tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly.

“…Fine,” you mutter. “But if you cause problems, I’m kicking all of you out.”

The panther hybrid smirks. “Understood.”

“So, what do you guys eat? Do you eat, like… cat food or something?” you question as you turn the wheel of the car.

The panther you learned was named Baji scoffed in the passenger seat, his arms crossed.

“Cat food? Do you see how big we are?” He kept his gaze toward the window as he spoke to you.

“We prefer raw humans, but fish is really good too,” Kazutora chuckled from the back seat, his claws holding onto your seat as he leaned forward.

Your eyebrows furrowed as Chifuyu flicked Kazutora’s temple, causing the tiger to shout, “Ow!”

“We like raw fish. Steak works too,” the Burmese informed you.

“Okay, cool. Is there anything else I should get? Like, do you like cat toys or scratchers or anything?”

“Goddamn, you think we’re regular cats or something?” This time, Baji’s gaze shifted to you with an eyebrow raised.

“Look, I told you guys that I didn’t buy you. I don’t know shit about hybrids, alright? Otherwise, I would’ve prepared.” You missed the glances they shared while you focused on the road.

“If you didn’t buy us, then who did?” Chifuyu questioned with curiosity, eyeing the back of your head.

“Yeah, and how’d you even afford us? Your apartment looks average compared to our last owner,” Kazutora spoke up, now leaning back in his seat while eyeing the window.

“My grandma bought you and had someone place you in my apartment. I wasn’t expecting you when I got home,” you sighed. “Honestly, this is already a lot of responsibility I didn’t ask for. I was thinking about somehow sending you back from wherever you came,” you say honestly.

“Well, I’m not going back to that shithole, so you’re gonna have to learn how to take care of us,” Baji stated.

You glanced at him, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Hey, I don’t have to do shit,” you respond. “What’s up with your attitude, huh?”

“That’s just how Baji talks, Y/n,” Chifuyu said softly. “Also, if your grandmother bought us, then she signed the contract.”

Your eyes meet the Burmese through the rearview mirror. “Yeah, and?”

“Well, that means we’re bound to you for at least five years until the contract expires. Then, you’ll have to renew or return,” Kazutora explained from behind you.

“There are no refunds,” the hybrid next to the tiger added.

“How do you guys know so much about the contract? You said you had an owner before, right? How’d that go?”

“None of your business,” Baji hissed.

You must’ve struck a nerve. You made a note to yourself to never bring up their last owner.

You watch as the hybrids snatch up packs of frozen meat and piles of junk food, tossing them into your cart without a second thought. You can already tell the receipt is going to be ridiculous, and you just hope your grandmother was serious about covering the credit card bill.

Now in the electronics section, you stand by while the guys grab a gaming console, controllers, and a bunch of different games. Your expression morphs into concern as you pull out your phone, turning away slightly while dialing your grandmother.

The moment she picks up, you start explaining everything they’ve been piling into the cart, asking—no, practically begging—for reassurance that it’s okay to charge what’s bound to be an insane total. She just laughs, telling you not to worry about it and to enjoy your new companions.

Chifuyu then asks you to stop by an electronics store to get them phones, and despite your hesitation, you end up spending hours buying three different phones under your grandmother’s name.

Even though they’re grown men, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re some overwhelmed mother letting her teenage sons run wild with her credit card. It’s stifling—but you let it slide, for now. You wonder why anyone would want this kind of responsibility.

“Hey! You assholes better help bring everything in, or I’m taking all of your electronics!” you shout at the two hybrids casually strolling into the apartment, leaving you and Chifuyu outside to do the heavy lifting.

Once all four of you finally get everything inside—and after making them help you haul the crate to the dumpster—the hybrids begin setting up their electronics while you start preparing their raw fish. You follow the recipe of some hybrid owner who’s popular on social media.

When you’re finished, you set their plates on the table and call them over from their game. You leave the leftovers on the stove for them to grab, and inform them that they need to clean everything up when they’re done. Chifuyu raises a brow at you as he picks up his plate.

“You’re not gonna eat with us?” he asks, settling onto the couch, one ear twitching while his tail lazily flaps against the cushion.

Baji and Kazutora are sitting on the floor with their backs against the bottom of the sofa. The plates are set on their laps with their controllers set aside on the carpet. They both glance up at you, ears perking with curiosity.

“Nah, I’m gonna shower, then maybe order something. I only made the raw fish anyway, and I don’t eat that,” you say, scratching the back of your head before heading out of the living room.

It has been six months since you got used to your new roommates. It has become a routine—waking up, going to work while they sleep, then coming home to these guys. The first night, you forgot to tell them you had work the next morning, so you had Chifuyu and Kazutora blowing up your phone with notifications.

Despite the annoyance, it was kind of adorable, so you let it go. It was your fault for not informing them, after all. You didn’t want to admit that you actually enjoyed their presence, but honestly, it felt like what you imagined having brothers would be like.

One night, you decided to read up on cat hybrids specifically. You never finished reading the manual, and you figured now was a good time. It seemed like a smart idea, considering some of the off-putting moments you’ve had with them.

One day, you had a day off from work and decided to stay in. You were sitting between Kazutora and Baji on the sofa, playing a game on the television. Chifuyu was in the bedroom, taking a nap. When Kazutora won, he accidentally scratched both sides of your neck while grabbing your shoulders in victory, exclaiming, “Did you see that?”

You remained calm at the stinging sensation, assuming it hadn’t left any significant mark. Unbeknownst to you, a drop of red liquid began oozing from both scratches. Both hybrids’ pupils dilated as the scent of your blood brushed past their noses.

Your eyes widened as Baji’s hand pressed against your forehead, pinning your head back against the couch while both men lowered their heads, their ears flat against their skulls. Kazutora’s hand slid over your opposite hip, pulling you closer, his claws piercing the fabric of your bottoms.

You froze as two wet muscles dragged against the skin of your neck before lips closed around your wounds. A shiver ran down your spine as your knees pressed together. Your hands clenched into fists as you stared at the ceiling.

Baji licked over his own saliva before pulling back, Kazutora mimicking the motion as they released you. When you lifted your head, you watched as they picked up their controllers and went back to the game as if nothing had happened.

“Um, what the fuck was that?” you asked, your voice a little higher than usual.

“What the fuck was what?” Baji responded flatly.

“That. What you guys just did.” You frowned.

“Oh, that? We just cleaned the blood from your neck,” Kazutora shrugged.

Another time, you were in the kitchen chopping up some raw steak when you accidentally cut the skin of your middle finger.

“Ouch!” you cried, immediately rinsing the stinging area with soap and water. Chifuyu had just walked in to see what you were up to.

When you lifted your finger from the sink, you saw that blood was still seeping through the cut.

“Damnit,” you groaned.

Your attention turned to the hybrid as he suddenly snatched your wrist, both hands holding yours as he brought your finger to his mouth. He stuck his tongue out slightly, licking the blood before circling his lips around your finger, sucking it all the way in while his gaze never left yours.

Heat rushed to your face as he continued sucking the wound for a moment before pulling your finger out of his mouth and releasing you.

“You should really use a disinfectant spray on that, Y/n.”

You understood that hybrids had different societal norms than humans, so you didn’t feel as uncomfortable as you probably should have. You just blamed it on the fact that you had different perceptions of social interactions.

You were confused when you reached a certain part of the passage.

“Heat?”

Your eyes widened as you stood in the doorway of your bathroom. It was late at night, and the door had already been cracked open, so when you saw the light on, you assumed one of the guys had forgotten to turn it off—something that had happened before.

You weren’t expecting to see Baji with his exposed back turned to you, leaning against the wall with the palm of his hand pressed flat against it. His other arm was moving at a ridiculous speed while you heard wet flapping sounds. The end of his tail twitched while his ears were upright.

Your heart thumps faster against your chest as he turns back to look at you with narrowed dark eyes. His lips were apart as he breathed heavily, his arm still moving violently. You both stared at each other before you pulled the door shut.

There was another time where you had woken up to loud thudding noises from the other bedroom. Against your better judgment, you decided to walk towards the noise. When you got to the cracked door, you pushed it open slightly as you peeked into the bedroom.

Kazutora had his head down while his body rocked against the man who was penetrating him from behind. His claws were gripping the sheets as his hair fell over his shoulders. Chifuyu had his fingers wrapped around the man’s striped tail as he thrusted into him, both men glistening with sweat as they grunt and moaned loudly.

Baji had his claws grasping Chifuyu’s face from the side as he pulled him into a wet kiss, saliva streaming down onto the bed as the burmese hybrid whimpered into his partner’s mouth.

You almost gasped when you saw Kazutora lift his head, a filthy expression on his sweaty face as a pair of your panties hung from his mouth, his fangs poking through the fabric. His bright eyes were almost fully black with the large pupils covering the irises. His right ear was flat as the other stood upright. One of his eyes was slanted as the other was wide.

You sighed as you realized how helpful this knowledge would’ve been before walking into all those awkward moments.

As you read on, the document warned you of any possessive behavior the hybrids might display. It caused you to think back on any moments you might’ve had where the list of behaviors occurred.

You had just gotten home from the bar, something you don’t normally do unless it’s the weekend. When your coworker asked if you wanted to go after work, you figured that it couldn’t hurt, as you were feeling a bit more energized that day. You had stayed longer than planned as you got tipsy and a little crossed from the blunt you shared.

When you got home, you were surprised to see the three hybrids sitting on the sofa, awake. The atmosphere of the room was suffocating as you stumbled in, shutting and locking the door behind you.

“Hey guys,” you slurred, kicking your shoes off before you started walking to your bedroom. Before you could make it, a hand snatched you back, claws piercing the skin of your arm.

“Where the fuck were you?” Baji growled as he sniffed you. “And why do you smell like that?”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to yank your arm out of his tight grip, to no avail.

“The bar,” you respond with confusion.

“Why didn’t you tell us that you’d be gone for that long?” Kazutora said as he walked up to your side, grasping your jaw as he forced you to eye his sharp gaze.

“Woah, what the hell? I already texted you guys that I was going out after work. Chill out,” you hissed, pulling your face from his claws as Chifuyu walked to the other side of you.

“You didn’t tell us where or for how long. That’s not fucking okay, Y/n. Did you even think about how that would make us feel?” Chifuyu spat angrily.

You noticed that all of their tails were thrashing behind them as their ears were flat against their heads. You could feel the tension rising as they glared at you, eyes narrowed sharply as they looked as though they wanted to attack.

“Hold up. Who the hell do you guys think you are to question me? In my apartment?” you questioned angrily as you grabbed Baji’s hand to pry his fingers off your arm.

It worked only until he replaced his hand on your neck and pulled you almost nose-to-nose, the expression on his face growing more feral by the second. You felt your heartbeat accelerate as you could see the pupils in his eyes growing.

“I don’t like your tone, Y/n. Who the fuck do you think you’re questioning?” He hissed, his voice eerily calm.

You could feel your feet slightly lift from the floor as you balanced yourself on the tip of your toes. You could feel the sweat beading against your skin as three pairs of eyes bore into you.

That was not an enjoyable moment at all. You felt your skin crawl at the memory. You remember the night ending with him releasing you before you rushed to your room. You couldn’t stop the tears as you had never been handled like that before.

You remembered Kazutora and Chifuyu sneaking into your room that night as they held you and whispered how much they cared about you and why they reacted the way they did. You remember shifting your position and eyeing Baji, who stood at the doorway with his arms crossed and a softer, but stern gaze on his face. None of them apologized, but they did purr and nuzzle into your neck.

It was a very weird moment, and you still don’t know what to make of it.

Another month has passed since you had read the manual. Their behavior has still been weird, but not as bad as before. You had a talk with them about their heats and told them to start keeping the door to their bedroom locked. You had also gotten them some supplies such as lube, condoms, and any other safety products to make it all easier.

You had even talked to them about the possessive behavior, and the conversation seemed to have gone well. So one night, you decided to invite a friend from your work over. You just wanted to hang out, but because you had lacked human interaction for a long time, both of you ended up making out.

You weren't planning to go any further, but you had just really enjoyed the way the man's lips felt against yours, as well as the caresses on your back. It was gentle, soft, and mesmerizing. He was gorgeous anyway, so it worked out.

Unfortunately, the door to your bedroom slammed open, and the hybrids stomped in as Baji headed straight for the human male. He snatched him from the shirt and dragged him off the bed before landing a punch on his face. You scream as Chifuyu pinned your arms down while Kazutora started stomping the guy’s stomach.

They continued to beat the man as crimson gushed from his skin, gurgling on his own blood and saliva as Kazutora dug his claws into the man’s ribs and ripped apart his torso. You gasp loudly, sitting up before Chifuyu climbed on top of you and pinned you down again. His hands grasped your face as you grabbed his shoulders, attempting to push him off.

“They’re killing him! They’re fucking killing him! Chi—Chifuyu, stop them!” You scream as he uses a palm to cover your mouth.

“Shh, shh. It’s going to be over soon,” he spoke softly as warm tears streamed down your face. Your screams are muffled behind his hand as you hear the slashing and squelching of the man’s guts being yanked out of him.

Kazutora and Baji are completely feral as they tear apart the human. Blood has splattered all over their face and naked torsos. They don’t stop, even when the man is completely still and any sign of light disappears from his eyes.

The man’s mouth hangs open as his eyes are rolled into the back of his head.

Although the hybrid in front of you is the calmest, you can see the pupils that have dilated as he also gives you a feral expression.

“You’re gonna be okay, Y/n. O—our last owner didn’t make it because he didn’t behave so you just have to relax and listen to us, alright? H—he used us and tricked us and—-we actually really, really love you and don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered with his forehead against yours as you continued to thrash under him.

Chifuyu is pulled back by the shoulder as Baji grasps your face and tugged you forward.

“I’ll hurt you if you scream so stop it,” he says, using an arm to rub against his mouth as the blood smears.

“Relax.”

Your hyperventilation slows into quiet pants as you attempt to calm down so as to not get killed. You feel exposed as all three pairs of eyes stare into you when Kazutora stands to the side of the bed. They’re all surrounding you and it’s suffocating.

“Good,” he begins.

“B—Baji, please. I—I,” your hands shake against the claws holding your face as you tug them. “I—can’t—,” you are breathless. You can’t breathe.

“Hey, we’re going to take care of the body, okay? But I need you to relax for me. Breathe,” he says.

“I'm going to be honest with you. When I saw his hands on you, it really made me want to kill you,” he said. Your face morphed as you sobbed. “Relax,” you complied as you focused on his dark eyes.

“I realize that you had no fucking idea what you were doing. You thought that it was okay, and it's our fault for not telling you before. Now you know that you belong to us. You can't bring anyone home, and you definitely can't touch anyone else, yeah? You know that, right?” Baji questioned you.

You don't agree with the conditions. You feel stupid for believing them when you had the talk about possessive behavior. You didn't realize how deep they were. The fact that something like this has happened before with their past owner makes you fearful for your life, especially since they killed him. You are hysterical and can't really think straight.

“I—I can’t—I don’t—,” you try so hard to catch your breath but you can’t stop panting.

A hand on your shoulder caused your body to jolt as you turned to the culprit.

“Hey,” Kazutora leaned in as he purred, his bloody face smearing the substance against your shoulder as he nuzzled against you. “Let’s go to another room while Baji and Fuyu clean the mess up.”

“Hey, why do I have to clean it up when you were one of the ones to kill him?” Chifuyu pouts.

“T’s not the time, Fuyu. Let’s hurry up so we can go to bed.”

“B—but the b—body? How are you gonna—?” you ask, worried that you might get blamed for your hybrids’ actions.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ve killed more people than you think and nobody ever found out that it was us,” Kazutora smiled. “Let’s go,” he says before pushing you off the bed.

“You don’t know how hard it’s been for me to control myself,” Kazutora whispered against your ear as he held your naked body against his bloody torso.

The steam of the shower is suffocating along with the lack of space between both of you as the warm water rinses you both. You feel the lump in your throat as you could feel the hard structure against your bottom.

His tail hangs low as his ears face forward. His wet hair drapes over his shoulders as he nuzzles your neck.

“Would you let me in?” He questioned, his voice soft.

“Do I even have a choice?” You question with fear laced in your tone. He chuckled in response.

“I guess not,” he said.

[cityofmeliora]

another absolutely insane Primo interview

in my first post about Primo's characterization, i noted that he has a dark sense of humor and possibly cruel inclinations. i recently found scans of a April 2012 Metal Hammer interview that features Primo and a Nameless Ghoul (big thanks to @ Primoismelting on twitter!!) i can now say with absolute certainly that he delights in evil and cruelty and being a villain.

this interview is like. really long. so i'm not posting a whole transcript. but here some highlights from this interview:

Primo says he would maim a panda bear for less than $500.

THERE ARE VARIOUS MEANS OF ASSESSING WHETHER SOMEONE IS EVIL OR NOT You don't need to wait until a person plunges a rusty pair of gardening shears through your eye to stop and think: "Yes, my reading of the situation is that he's a bit on the evil side." Criminal psychologists and those working in secure psychiatric facilities use questionnaires called psychopathy tests in order to judge whether someone is a grade A violent nutcase or not... whether they're mad or simply bad. Today's two subjects from the occult rock band Ghost – a sinister figure shrouded in robes who answers only to the title of A Nameless Ghoul and a desiccated cadaverous fiend wearing the pope's robes and mitre, called Papa Emeritus – have agreed to sit ARE YOU EVIL? 101. We tell them, "No one will ever find out. Tell me how much money it would take to persuade you to hit a panda really hard in the face with a brick." Despite his voice being disguised by electronic effects to help preserve his identity, the disgust in the Nameless Ghoul's answer is audible: "It would take a lot of money. An insurmountable amount of money." But you would not kill the panda – probably just fuck its nose up a bit. And I have a Large amount of money to offer you. But the Ghoul will not budge and is clearly appalled: "I will pass thank you. I have no desire to hit a panda in the face with a brick." Papa Emeritus pauses for what feels like an eternity before croaking: "One. Million. Lire.” A willingness to harm animals is often judged to be an indicator of psychotic behaviour. Most people would never agree to hit the unfortunate bamboo-eating, sex-phobic, monochromatic bear on the hooter. Papa is not only happy to do it but he also knows a Gene Simmons-sized business opportunity when he sees one, yet the Ghoul on the other hand has revealed he has a more moral outlook. This is very confusing. Another test is needed. Metal Hammer (April 2012)

the Italian Lira is a now-obsolete currency that was phased out and replaced by the Euro from 1999-2002. in 2001, its last year of usage, it had an average conversion rate of roughly ~2180 Lire = 1 USD. 1 million Lire would be about $460 USD. Primo dgaf about endangered animals LMAO.

Primo reacts with sinister glee at the idea of invading and conquering Poland. (understandably, this is the interview where a Nameless Ghoul compares him to H*tler.)

We put the following to them, "OK, consider this. You are passing by Poland. Do you stop and think A) What a fantastic opportunity, I must visit this famous land and soak up its rich culture and history and make new friends in the process, or B) I must annex this God-forsaken strip of dirt and grind its populace under the heel of my jackboot in order to create Lebensraum for my Reich which will reign in glory for a millennium?" The Nameless Ghoul stammers: "I have yet to step foot in Poland so it's a foreign country to me." Stop avoiding the question. Would you sooner visit Poland for a holiday or invade it? He sighs and says: "In my line of work we are pretty much into invading countries. Being a rock musician with the aim of putting on a very good show all around the world, it would be very handicapping to not explore the cultural aspects of countries you visit. But when you are in a band such as Ghost that's on the rise and you go to a country like Poland, you go there with the aim of conquering the country. You go to their country to enrich them with your culture of blasphemy.” Papa Emeritus does not add anything but he is grinning as much as his rigor mortis will allow and rubbing his hands together. It looks like in his mind he is already packing his bags and choosing a particularly severe tank commander's outfit for the trip. Again there is a big divide between the mysterious monk and his partially decayed singer. The conclusion of the test is far from clear. Could it be – as strange as it may seem – that they are nothing more threatening than ordinary travelling minstrels who simply wish to excite young people with an invigorating and theatrical "rock show"? Or are they indeed, as they claim, emissaries sent from Hades to recruit foot soldiers for the most evil of battles to come? More tests are needed. Metal Hammer (April 2012)

Primo has no problem with being compared to H*tler, but he DOES NOT want you to forget that his dick is HUGE.

The Nameless Ghoul says this is partially the point: "A lot of people presume we're parodying the church by inverting it but this isn't the case. We do the exact same thing as the church but we add a little topping to make a point. I think the real Pope is a very frightening character and that's the reason why he is an impenetrable, invincible and uncontrollable figure. It is the same with Papa Emeritus. You can't defeat Papa Emeritus because he's sacred. Most people find authoritative figures like the Pope enthralling. So he represents everything that is sacred, powerful and authoritative. It is very humorous as well, because not only is he our own Eddie, he's also Freddie Mercury, Adolf Hitler, Dracula, Marlon Brando and the Pope rolled into one.” Anger rouses Papa Emeritus from his near slumber: "Don't forget John Holmes!" The Nameless Ghoul sighs and corrects himself, throwing the 13 -inch-cocked porn star into the mix: "He is like Freddie Mercury, Adolf Hitler, Dracula, Marlon Brando, The Pope and John Holmes rolled into one.” Metal Hammer (April 2012)

Primo fucks, but he DOES NOT do foreplay.

"Thank you," says Papa E. It has to be said, while the singer no doubt cuts quite a figure in his robes and he undeniably has great bone structure, some of which is exposed to the elements, it's perhaps a shame that he doesn't have a better grooming routine as this might afford him and Ghost more young female fans. The Ghoul laughs raucously beneath his hood: "You'd be surprised at how many women flirt scandalously with him from the audience. The Ghouls get repelled when we see this happening actually. It is true that he has good bone structure but I think it is not so much his looks as the idea of him being whoever they want…” So basically you're saying that there are a lot of women out there who are having impure thoughts about a cadaverous cross between Hitler and Freddie Mercury in a dress? He lets out another chuckle: "Yes... yes, I am." Papa cuts in with a lascivious leer: "Whatever makes you think that I do not engulf myself in the carnal aftermath of our masses? I do, however, refrain from so-called 'foreplay'."

in the original lore, Papa Emeritus I was a zombie pope. he was supposed to be an actual literal corpse.

the interview makes several references to Primo being a zombie. he's described as 'cadaverous', having rigor mortis and exposed bones. the joke was that the title "Papa Emeritus" is the title of former popes, but a former pope would by definition be a dead pope, so the idea was that Ghost's Papa Emeritus I was a dead pope. this was before Pope Benedict resigned in 2013 and became the first living Pope Emeritus, ruining the joke, LOL.

[thebreakfastgenie]

I really fear the takeaway from Trump's successes are, democracy rewards mindless obedience more than independent thinking. Republicans ruthlessly stamp out dissent and got a rock solid voter base. Democrats tried to encourage critical thinking and questioning convention and only enabled ratfucking splinter groups and grifters.

I mean, yeah, democracy rewards a party that can make its voter base turn out unfailingly every single time. If you encourage your voter base to think critically, sooner or later they're going to question you. And you want that, in theory, for moral accountability and all that. The problem is that people lose perspective and forget that dissent is all well and good but there are situations where you need to put on a united front, like elections.

One underrated aspect of Republicans' ability to maintain a solid voter base is that hate is part of their platform. Rabid bigots are willing to ignore a lot of other stuff to vote for the people who not only hate the same people they do but actively validate their hatred. That's why Trump ran those horrible transphobic ads in Pennsylvania. I think it's also why the Republicans have just continued going full steam ahead on being openly racist and found success that way. Democrats can't do that, because fundamentally their platform is not based on hate, so they can't appeal to that same psychology. Democrats have tried it with the populist hating rich people thing and that hasn't worked out and you can talk about hating the bigots but it's still not as effective.

Democracy basically rewards the lowest common denominator. It's just harder to get people to hear and respond to complex and often boring truths than it is to concise and sensational lies. This has always been a problem but social media has amplified it. And let's face it, "we are always striving to be better" is a more responsible but less appealing mentality than "we have god on our side." I'm not necessarily saying this was great, but for a while there was a certain veneer of class expected from both parties, which leveled the playing field somewhat. Republicans have become the party of the mean and dumb. They're not just appealing to the mean and dumb, that's who a lot of actual Republican elected officials are.

The only way to avoid mindless obedience in a democracy is to get your citizens to use their minds. Often mindless disobedience is mistaken for critical thinking. We all hate the Electoral College (as we should) and that specific system was a compromise no one especially wanted but everyone could live with, but there's a reason some of the framers were hesitant about direct elections. You're counting on the public to be informed and think for themselves and exercise good judgment. That is a tremendous amount of faith to place in people and as we're seeing now, it doesn't always pay off. I can't convince myself there's an acceptable alternative to democracy so I have to continue to believe the public is capable of better. It can be very demoralizing, though.