#love when you can tell two characters are different people of different ages and aren’t related

[blurrilines]

Bernard been feeding him well godDAMN

Side note: two of them 💕

[suguann]

✎. you aren’t happy about your roommate’s party until you meet the attractive guy down the hall.

tags. fem!reader, future installments will contain smut, age difference, original characters, college student reader, one-night stands, angst, dirty talk, hurt/comfort, size kink, unplanned pregnancy

featuring. simon

It’s your first semester living off-campus, and Finn is boundlessly enthusiastic about all things that involve cheap liquor and crowded spaces, even more so now that she roped you into being her roommate after promising to split the cost of furnishing an apartment that’s probably too expensive for two undergrads working part-time, low-pay jobs.

You don’t like parties, really. 

Movies and the social connotations surrounding parties have always made them seem like some monumental proverbial chip in your college experience; the real thing, once the bright-eyed shine of trying something new wears off, is more or less a bunch of random people packed into a room like sardines who abate their social awkwardness with alcohol and loud music.

So, no, you can’t exactly say that you enjoy the thought of Finn’s friends (and everyone she hardly smiles at) cramping up your already tiny apartment—especially when one of them is Miller from one of your business classes, who gives you the creeps. 

And leave it to Finn to invite him, anyway.

"Now he knows where I live," you grumble into your bowl of cereal—something probably too sweet and (definitely) full of sugar for breakfast.

Finn shrugs, not at all worried for you, as she pours more sticky orange batter into the hot pan on the stove. "The guy has a crush on you. I think it's cute. And he seems harmless."

“Harmless until I end up in a ditch somewhere.”

You don’t have to see her face to know she’s doing that thing with her mouth whenever you say something she thinks is ridiculous. “If you’d agree to split the Netflix bill, you wouldn’t be stuck watching horror movies. Why do you only own horror movies, again?”

"That's easy for you to say.” You roll your eyes, ignoring her question. “You don’t have to sit by him every week.”

(As if that would ever convince her to change her mind.)

"Ow! Shit!"

You look up right before Finn drops a steaming pancake onto her hand and rushes to the sink to run it under cold water. The mutilated pancake lay forgotten with the others that didn't survive her last several attempts.

"Finn, I think this is unnecessary," you tell her after swallowing a mouthful of cereal. "Can't you do something more practical? Like sticking a note to their door?"

Finn looks up from the sink, her wild, red curls bouncing from the movement. "Oh, come on! Don't chicken out now. I've already made fifteen of these things." She points her pink spatula at the tower of not-quite pumpkin-shaped pancakes on the counter. "Plus, who's going to turn down free food? Now, go put on your costume and hand these out."

You shovel another spoonful of cereal into your mouth, scowling. "I'm not wearing the costume you picked out. It's so...inappropriate."

You’re pretty sure Finn picked out your costume from the dicey sex shop down the street rather than an actual Halloween store—the amount of mesh compared to solid fabric only solidifies the theory.

Finn finally turns the water off and gives you a stern look, amused eyes set under a furrowed brow. "I can find the one you own in the children's section at Costco."

You roll your eyes. "I really don’t feel like flashing my tits to the neighbors while offering them breakfast.”

She grins, wide and teasing. "You have nice tits, though.”

"Yeah, I'm sure the old woman down the hall would love to see her neighbor in the equivalent of a thong and nipple coverings at the start of her day." You don’t think you’d ever be able to look her in the eye again.

"Miss Yado is cool,” Finn says, returning to the stove to continue cooking. “She'll probably just tell you to wear a jacket or something."

You pick up your empty bowl and lean over the counter to put it in the sink. "I didn't know you talked to our neighbors."

Finn shrugs, flipping the pancake in the skillet. "She normally walks her dog while I'm heading to class. I stop to talk to her sometimes when I'm not running late." 

“Oh?”

She shoots you a wry grin over her shoulder. "You'd know the neighbors too if you didn't scowl all the time."

In response, the corners of your mouth tip down. "I don’t scowl."

"Now, would you go change? These are getting cold." 

Several minutes later, you come out of your room wearing the same costume you'd worn the past two years. Finn pouts when she sees you forwent the one she had picked out. However, she doesn’t do more than shake her head and shove a handful of food containers full of pancakes into your hands.

“You’ll be fine. Just remember to smile,” she tells you before the front door closes behind you.

You start on your end of the hall, going door to door and handing out the small containers. The whole time, you’re wondering why Finn couldn’t do this herself, considering you’re hardly a people person as is. Thankfully, nobody seemed too annoyed about being bothered on a Saturday morning—only one neighbor shut the door in your face before you could say anything.

But it’s fine. You’re not going to let it ruin your day. Plus, you only have one person left.

There’s a small pit of nerves in your stomach when you knock this time—half expecting another door to the face. What you don’t expect, however, is the tall and imposing guy who answers.

Who also doesn’t appear to be any less annoyed.

Your mouth opens and closes helplessly, all words stuck to the back of your tongue, watching as stray water droplets drip down from his wet hair and travel down the side of his face before dispersing into the dark stubble lining his jaw.

You stare. And stare. Eyes, most likely, bugging unattractively out of your head.

How did Finn never mention the super hot neighbor who lived six doors down the hall?

He gives you a once-over, and part of you suddenly wishes you’d gone with Finn's costume instead. Only because here, at that moment, you’re willing to admit that maybe the one you have on looks like a six-year-old picked it out—especially when this guy, who is way out of your league, scrutinizes it for a second longer, mostly your frilly crew socks. 

"Can I help you?" he asks, his voice low as if he hasn’t been awake for long.

You blink, mild embarrassment rushing through you from the sudden realization that you’ve been standing there and saying absolutely nothing.

"Hi, um, I'm your neighbor from down the hall. My roommate and I are throwing a Halloween party, and we're inviting people in the building." Annoyance slowly melts off his face.

"Thank you,” heavily tattooed arms cross over his broad chest, and he leans against the door frame (and you definitely don’t stare at how his biceps seem to strain against his black t-shirt). “But I think I'm getting a little old for parties."

The corners of your mouth tip up in what’s the beginning of a smile.

"Okay, sure. You're, what, twenty-five?"

It’s a stupid joke, and for a moment, you panic, afraid he’d been unimpressed, but then his lips quirked slightly. "Not quite. Nice costume. Let me guess, fairy?"

"Witch, actually. I’ve always gone with something more original," you babble and bite your lip before you can say something else.

"It’s cute." 

Cute?

You’re unsure if you should feel elated that he thinks so or self-conscious—that he might be making fun of you—so you settle with a mumbled “thanks.”

"So, what's with the container?" he asks, nodding toward your hands.

"Oh, um, my roommate thought she could bribe people with food to come to the party." Truthfully, it’s to prevent potential complaints from the neighbors, but you decide not to mention that part, although you think he knows by the way the corner of his mouth subtly lifts.

You give him the plastic container and watch as he stares into it with a furrowed brow. "It's a... pancake?"

"Er, yeah. My roommate likes to go above and beyond for everything."

"What's it supposed to be?" he asks, glancing up at you.

"Um, a pumpkin..."

You look between him and the container and find Finn had accidentally mixed up her presentable pancakes with the throwaways. And the pumpkin shape is...well, it isn't.

"Ah, I see," he nods, his slowly drying hair falling onto his forehead. "That makes more sense."

You can’t stop the giggle that bubbles to the surface. "You think you can do better?"

"Yes, actually," he grins back, all cocksure, with a flash of white teeth. "Maybe I’ll bring some over some time."

"I won't tell her you said that." However, you can't wait to rib Finn later.

"Right, it probably wouldn't make a very good first impression." Then he sticks out his free hand, "Simon."

You shyly shake it—ignoring the little skip in your chest at how big his hand is compared to yours—and tell him your name, too.

His eyes flicker down to his watch, and he curses under his breath. "Well, it was nice meeting you. But I have to finish getting ready for work."

Only then do you take note of the tactical pants and heavy boots he’s wearing.

When you meet his gaze again, you find amusement there, and you consider, with a new rush of mortification, that it probably seemed like you’d been openly eyeing his crotch. 

You clear your throat, the back of your neck feeling hot, and you pointedly pretend your voice doesn’t hitch when you breathe a soft, tremulous, "Okay, sure.”

"Tell your roommate I said thanks for breakfast."

"Yeah, I'll tell her. Um, I guess I'll see you around." No longer able to make eye contact with him, you turn away and begin walking (though it’s probably closer to running) toward your door.

And you definitely don’t look over your shoulder to see if he’s still standing there.

You spend most of the party hanging out near the front door, quietly hoping Simon might show up—even though it seems unlikely. After all, he did mention that he’s too old for parties, and a small, insecure part of you wonders if it was his polite way of turning you down.

"The guy was running late,” Finn had tried to reassure you. “I'm sure he was thinking about how to beat expressway traffic before the lunch hour rush hit. Not about the crazy lady in a witch costume running away from his door."

That was the initial deciding factor between your witch costume and the one Finn’s been trying to force you into—only so you don’t have to hear another person call you cute just to seem nice.

And leave it to Finn to jump at the opportunity to help you get ready, though she nearly freaked out when you popped into your joint bathroom with an old tube of mascara that you rummaged out of your nightstand.

"Do you know how many germs are probably on that thing?" Finn’s nose scrunched up as she threw it away in the waste bin near the toilet. "Please tell me you haven't used it since you bought it?"

You had rolled your eyes. "Probably not."

Finn sighed, then smiled. "Luckily for you, I own more than a crusty mascara tube." 

You were about to argue, but when Finn told you to sit on the toilet lid with a dangerously sharp liner pen, you’d clenched your jaw instead, unsure what you were more scared of when Finn brought the pen close to your face: that your friend might potentially stab you in the eye or that you’d come out of the bathroom with raccoon eyes.

Thankfully, when Finn finally finished, neither was the case, except the number of looks you’ve been receiving anytime someone stops in the kitchen to get more drinks is something you hadn’t anticipated—especially when one of them happens to be Miller.

You’ve been avoiding him and his overly bare chest from the moment he walked through your front door. It grew more challenging after Finn left your side (the traitor) to talk to a guy you’ve seen her hanging around with on campus a few times. 

And with the apartment feeling smaller than it already is, you’re only option is to blend in with the group hanging around your kitchen island.

You’ll be fine, Finn said.

Right, you think as you adjust the scanty tube top under your mesh shirt, trying to cover more of yourself with what little fabric you have at your disposal, and you wonder if it’s too late to change—

A knock at the door makes you perk up, regardless of how noisy the room is, with eardrum-shattering music and loud college students. You pull it open, expecting to see Simon on the other side, only to be disappointed when it’s one of Finn’s friends and her girlfriend instead.

"Hey, Roma." You realize you probably sound rude and attempt to give them your best smile—which is more or less a grimace.

Roma smooths out her extremely short referee-style dress. "Sorry, we're late! I couldn't remember where you lived. There are way too many blue apartment buildings around here..."

Everything she’s saying goes in one ear and out the other when you spot Simon stepping out of the door to the stairway across the hall. You hold your breath, waiting for him to look up from his phone.

But he keeps walking.

"Uh, yeah," you say distractedly before speeding up the conversation. "Hey, Finn is in the living room, but I'll see you guys inside, okay? I need to do something."

You step around them to catch up to Simon, which you learn isn’t easy in heels. So you call his name, hoping he hears you and smiling when he turns toward you. And you don’t miss how his gaze trails down your body slowly.

It makes something inside you quiver as you nervously play with the short hem of your skirt.

“Hey,” he says, sounding every bit as tired as he looks—his shirt from that morning now wrinkled with bluish hollows under his eyes—though he tries to hide it with what you think is an attempt at a smile.

And your cheeks burn because you feel guilty. 

"Hey," you repeat dumbly. 

Your eyes lower as his smile melts into one of faint amusement at your lack of tact. You fidget, shifting from one foot to the other. Maybe, you think, you should have let him walk into his apartment before you could embarrass yourself further today.  

After a moment, you meet his gaze again. 

"Uh, I just wanted to see if you still wanted to come over���But I imagine you're probably not up for it, so I’ll leave—"

Simon surprises you when he shrugs his shoulders and says, "Sure."

Your mouth gapes, unsure if you heard him correctly. "Wh-what?"

"I just need to shower and change, and then I'll be over. Okay?"

"I... yeah, okay," your nod is shy, trying not to betray eagerness.

A lazy grin stretches across his mouth. "Nice costume, by the way," he disappears into his apartment before he can witness how his words make you flush.

And you walk back to your apartment feeling a little more floaty than when you left.

masterlist

[hereforthehitsbaby]

Careful, Bub | DP&W!Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Synopsis: I showed my friends, then we high-fived / Sorry if you feel objectified / Can't help myself, hormones are high / Give me more than just some butterflies

Warnings: Mutual Pining, Masturbation, Sexting, Nude Photos, Mentions of Sex Toy Use, Dom!Logan, Logan Talks You Through It, P R A I S E K I N K ! L O G A N, Choking of the Sexual Variety, Shoving, Claws Come Out,  Age Gap (Reader is in their late 20’s – Logan is 200 years old), Reader used to have confidence issues but worked through them,

Rating: M – No Minors

Word Count: 8.5k

To be tagged in any future work of mine, please fill this out.

It’s fun to relate to the people that live in the same place as you, something about it deepens the connection. Whether it is a mutual bonding over music, entertainment, or even sports – it always makes you feel closer, comfortable. In this day and age, it can be almost lonely if you aren’t connected with others through your phone, making the world feel a bit glummer. Having that safe group is necessary to be one with the world, to feel like you’re going to be okay – like everything is going to pan out. You happened to luck out by living in the same building as some of the most heinous, and hilarious characters the world has ever set eyes on. You have the fortune of calling them your friends.

The group chat was originally Wade’s idea. His way of bringing you into the crew when you worked late, not missing a moment of meet ups you couldn’t make it to. It was a sweet gesture, but with how many others were in there – it overwhelmed you. Out of the twelve people who are constantly messaging the chat, you found safety within two of them. Negasonic and Yukio happened to be your solace when the chat was too loud. Yukio wasted no time in creating a Girls Only chat for you three, where nothing was held back. You three could express yourselves in every way possible, without the guys being weirdos – mainly Wade but still. It was great to have women friends around your own age, that was something you were not used to. 

Any inside joke about the guys or about events being organized was ran through your three separately, making small bets here and there on what Al would say, who Peter would try to have grab his chain, how many times Logan told Wade to fuck off. Logan, that made you tune in real quick. The possibilities were endless and made it eventful to say the least. But the one thing you loved the most about your friendship with Nega and Yukio is how open they are with you; Honest, encouraging, your own personal cheerleaders. When you initially met them, you were a shy little wallflower – getting by on just being a listener over a talker. Always the encourager, never getting encouragement. Shying away anytime someone was nice to you, never accepting it as truth. Yukio and Nega were the opposite of what you were, and everything you wanted to be.

Having a safe space with them meant you could send them anything and they’d listen, give advice, be the best friends you could’ve ever asked for. It was with them that you found your confidence, something you always struggled with. It was one photo you sent them of the dress you were wearing – both ladies telling you how beautiful and gorgeous you are, how hot you looked in it. That small little omission altered your brain chemistry. You hadn’t been called hot before, so it invigorated you to hear that. It was a long dive into the endless pool below, and you were ready for the journey down. Months and months of slowly getting out of your shell with them turned you into a little vixen, the compliments they gave you caused you to thrive. You always reciprocated for them as well, hyping them up through and through. It felt good to feel like you were worth it, like you weren’t just there. It changed the way you saw yourself, and you knew you’d never go back to how it was before.

Tonight was no different, after all you had just gotten back from hanging out with them. A trip downtown to the mall was a call for chaos when it was you three, Wade forcing Logan to stay home with him and reenact The Greatest Showman with Mary Puppins. It bummed you out for a bit, not being able to chill with Logan like you wanted, but when Wade called – no one told him no. It was a secret to everyone who wasn’t Yukio and Nega that you had a thing for Logan. Something about the older man burned right through you in the most sensual way possible, something deep and longing you never wanted to leave. Little glances you two would have together always caused the girls to giggle, teasing you about it later but, it was only a matter of time before the chord snapped, before you gave in. Still that fear sat at the back of your mind, the what if’s. What if he doesn’t want me? What if he doesn’t want anyone? What if? What if? What if?

As you sit on your plush rug right in front of your wall length mirror, you leaned against the side of your bed, humming as you thumbed through the earlier group chat messages. Behind you on your duvet sat the bag full of clothing you had gotten, trying to add more color into your wardrobe. Beneath it all sat a spicy little number you nabbed whole Yukio and Nega were changing, something that felt so right you needed to have it. It wasn’t a secret that you would buy yourself things like these every now and again but, this time around you felt empowered holding this little secret just for yourself, to surprise your friends with. They always said that color duo made you look fearless, powerful, gorgeous – and you’d be damned if you’d pass it up, especially on sale.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you contemplated getting up to take a shower or put on your new set, feeling yourself out, getting some prime photos then showering. The toss up between the two left you unable to choose, wondering if you could go hang out with Wade and Laura instead, maybe even sneak your way into Logan’s room. The thought made your body shiver, needing to close your eyes for a moment to brace yourself. Taking a deep breath in, you let your mind wander, your hand grabbing the bag off your bed instinctively. It was a given deep down you wanted to prance around your room in the set, spicing up your night. Something about wearing it underneath your clothes while hanging out with everyone felt taboo, downright sinful – but you craved it.

Feeling your body tremble with anticipation, you gently grabbed each piece of lingerie out of the bag, the rustling of tissue paper filling the air as your music droned low in the background. The bra was placed carefully against the bed first, followed by the lacy things and garter set; Your eyes quivered with arousal as you saw it, knowing how it was going to make you feel. There was no wasted effort in stripping completely naked, tossing your day clothes into the laundry basket. The slight cool breeze coming from your central air, mixing with the intoxicating smell of the candles lit around you made your eyes darken, your nipples pebbling against the air. You understood why you were excited and giddy to be putting it in, but in the back of your mind you also felt nervous. It was confusing you.

Pushing it out of your head, you ignored the nagging in the back of your mind, solely focusing on the task at hand. Sliding the soft lace of the thong up your thighs, you reveled in how it felt – how it glided against your skin so softly, like it was a lover. How supportive it felt cupping your front whilst holding your behind helped to quell some of the nerves lying low in your belly. Snapping the elastic band against your hip, you giggled as you grabbed the bra. Even though it was lacy and covered almost nothing, it had good support for your breasts, holding them perfectly to show the most amount of cleavage, but also leaving some to the imagination. In between the small bits of detailing, you could see the color of your nipple, which caused your smirk to grow. Biting your bottom lip, you smoothed your hands over the apex of your breasts, watching as the flesh spilled over slightly.

All that was left was your garter belt, sitting across the middle of your stomach and hooking onto your stockings. You worked quickly to pull them up as you let the music take over you, swaying to the beat so it was less intimidating. As the final strap was hooked to the top of your stockings, you let out a shaky sigh, silently prepping yourself for what you would see once you turned around. Keeping your eyes closed you spun around slowly, letting the anticipation eat away at you until you couldn’t take anymore. Usually you were so confident when it came to trying these pieces on, not giving a second worry to them – this time around you were nervous, as if this particular color scheme made you scared. You couldn’t let that hold you back, not after how far you have come, it wasn’t worth it.

Slowly you opened your eyes as you faced the mirror, the blue tint of the strip lighting giving a whimsy glow to your room. The focal point of your vision started to become clear as you looked at your face, makeup still immaculate and beautiful from earlier. But as your eyes panned down to your body, you felt a fresh wave of goosebumps flood your skin, a shaky moan leaving your lips. The yellow of the bra and thong complimented your figure wonderfully, amplifying the gorgeous glow of your skin. But truly it was the navy blue of your stockings and belt that made your body quiver; The royal deep color punctuating your sensuality with how you stood. You couldn’t believe this was you, in all your baren glory – a fucking goddess amongst men, you could send one to the hospital just with this set. You couldn’t keep your smile back any longer as you stared at yourself, admiring your body and its shape against the lingerie. All the worries, all the small doubts instantly fell away, your confidence skyrocketing.

You knew for a fact Yukio and Nega would hype you up, thinking this was totally you¸ and probably ask if you got it today. But those could wait, you needed to take photos – you needed to see what you looked like on screen. The giddy nature of what you were doing sent shivers through your body, the thought of what positions would look best making you grow excited. You decided that your go-to for new outfits would fit perfectly in this scenario. Who knows, you could save this photo for a rainy day when you wanted to tease someone. You grabbed your phone off of the bed as you dropped to your knees, the plush shag material of your lilac rug feeling lovely against your legs.

Parting your thighs, you left a good gap between both as you sunk yourself down. One hand came to press against the floor directly in front of your clothed core, tossing your hair over to the opposite side. As you held your phone in position with your free hand, you noticed how your arm was pushing your breasts together deliciously, deepening the cleavage, sending your eyes a shade darker. Pouting your lip as cutely as you do, you snapped a few quick photos, getting every great angle you could as you changed your hair direction. A blur of photos filled your camera roll as you felt yourself, “Juno” by Sabrina Carpenter coming across your playlist at the best time.

As you laughed to yourself, you finally stopped taking photos, sitting with your back against the bed and crossing your legs. Each photo you took was a masterpiece, amplifying your beauty by tenfold. But out of each one, it was the very first one that felt real, authentic to you. The others you were playing sexy up, trying to get the best fuck me look going, but it felt too artificial for your taste. It was the first one, the one where your eyes were dilated, where your nipples perked beneath the fabric, where your thighs trembled that made you feel like a God. It was a no brainer that this is what Yukio and Nega were getting, there was no way around it now. Clicking the share icon in your camera roll, you clicked on the first green bubble, eyes blurred from how excited you were about this risky photo. I’d be a lot tougher with claws.

You sent off the cheeky message without a second more thought to it, locking your phone instantly. As you tossed the device on your bed, you put on the silk bathrobe hanging off of the corner of your mirror, wrapping yourself up quickly. All that thirst-trapping made you thirsty, the dry mouth you were getting was too much for you. As you opened your bedroom, making it around to your kitchen of your apartment, you opened your fridge up quickly to grab a water bottle. The cold plastic in your hand brought you back to Earth, your body coming back into itself as your reality started to slip back in. The cap was popped off easily by you, finding its way across the quartz top. Bringing the bottle to your lips, you let them wrap around the opening, gulping down the cold liquid. It felt nice with how hot you felt, bringing your internal temperature back down as your mind cleared.

Ding. The tone of your phone going off made you stop drinking, catching your breath as you swallowed down the water. So lost in bringing yourself back to the present time, you forgot you had messaged the chat. You screwed the lid back onto the bottle as you set it on the countertop, promising to come back to it. As you made your way elegantly back to your room, that pull of nausea and nerves made you stop. Your stomach churned as you stood in the doorway, the threshold keeping you upright. That same feeling from earlier was back as you put on the lingerie, not knowing why you felt so nervous and scared all of a sudden. It made you confused, weary as to what your body was trying to tell you. It’s just Yukio and Nega, why are you being so flighty? Groaning to yourself, you rolled your eyes as you made your way back to your bed.

Plopping down onto the duvet, you sprawled out on your stomach as you grabbed your phone, using your face ID to unlock it. Yes you would. Colors look good on you. You cocked a brow at the message, reading the lines over and over again. It didn’t sound like Nega or Yukio to be so short-worded. Usually, they would send a plethora of emojis before screaming in all caps. But that was just the thing, your last message open wasn’t to the group chat, but one individual instead. It all made sense now, why you felt so scared and nervous. Your eyes went wide as you read the contact’s name, not seeing your groupchat. No, instead it read Logan. It wasn’t the groupchat that received the photo, it was him.

You screamed as you threw your phone across the floor, palms shaking as you sat up silently. The noise in your brain was too loud to focus, the intake of your breath and blood pulsing through your ears made everything too much. Anxiety was sitting in the back of your throat, threatening to spill your stomach out. You scrambled across the floor on your hands and knees to grab your phone, still unlocked from a few moments ago. Shaky fingers worked to unsend the photo, blessing the tech gods for that feature. You were too anxious to type, opting for speech to text instead. “I’m so sorry about that! I meant to send that to Nega and Yukio.” Seeing the wording typed out didn’t feel right, as weird as that sounded. Admitting it felt like a sin, more so than sending a sexy photo to The Wolverine. After all, wasn’t this your endgame anyways? It’s not like you haven’t deep infatuated with him since he became Wade’s friend, since you started hanging around him a lot more. Wasn’t it you who stated that by the end of the year, you’d kiss him? Wasn’t it you who said you would fight tooth and nail to make him yours?

Being sucked into your mind by your thoughts caused you to delay in sending your message, instead removing the text with your finger to completely disappear. Ding. Right as you were thinking of your response, you saw another message come through from Logan, one you didn’t anticipate. Put it back. Now. There was no way he said that, right? Oh, but there was. As your eyes shook from excitement, nervousness, and fear you could make out the small letters of Logan’s message, feeling his desire through the text. He wasn’t a big texter, he even said that himself – but to see him say more than two words was insane to you, even now when he was clearly enamored with you. There was no right or wrong way to reply, but no words you could think of held a light to the dominance Logan is showing.

Incoming FaceTime Call: Logan. The red and green buttons at the bottom made you stir, wondering if it would be a good idea to answer. This was one of his favorite ways to communicate, to see how things were going and what you were up to. Granted they never lasted more than two minutes because Wade would always hijack it but still – the little slivers of time you got with Logan was special. This time around though? It felt wired, like if you answered you’d get the shock of a lifetime. But what was life without a little self-indulgence? Looking up at yourself in the mirror, you fixed a few strands of your hair, pulling your robe a bit tighter around your chest as you sat back against the bed, letting your butt hit the floor as you got comfortable. Dragging your thumb along the green answer button, you positioned your phone a few inches away from your face, enough to get your collarbone up in the shot. A slow, pregnant pause caused by your phone’s connection delayed seeing Logan. But once it came to be, you were taken aback.

The dark of the early night was cresting behind his head, the sun starting to descend into the horizon. His eyes glittered against the holiday lights, causing your heart to swell. Once he looked back down at the camera, he couldn’t help himself but by staring at you, a small smile threatening to take over his lips. “Hey,” he let out with an airy breath, the slight chill of the night causing it to puff out. You felt yourself suck in a breath, the energy already charged. Reflecting his own smile, you sent your own through your phone as you waved. “Hi.” Usually you were a lot more talkative, teasing him to make him smile but – none of that felt right in this moment. Even with seeing his face on your screen, you could tell he was hiding something – not really saying what he wanted to. His eyes were black against the horizon behind him, no sight of hazel coming through.

��How’re you?” You managed to let out, your voice lower than usual as you let your legs stretch out, leaning further back against the side of the bed. Logan didn’t miss a second of your movements as he walked down the street, the light bustling of cars filling the sound barrier. From the buildings behind him, you could see he was downtown, more than likely heading to the bar for a quick drink. You silently wished he asked to meet you there, to hang out privately for once. But that playful glint in his pupils told a different story as he rounded the corner, staring down at you. “Did Wade tell you about my suit?”

Logan asked with a slight smirk, narrowing his eyes suspiciously as he watched for your reaction. Cocking a brow in his direction you tried to understand what he was asking, not sure what suit he meant. You knew that Logan was The Wolverine, it was no secret. But you never saw his suit, only meeting him a week after he jumped into your timeline. Shaking your head at his question, you pulled your lower lip between your teeth, gnawing on the skin to help combat the butterflies in your stomach. The swishing of your hair from side-to-side aiding in cooling you down. “Then what made you choose yellow and blue?” His smirk never let off as he asked, prying. He wanted to fully talk about the photo, he wanted to see if it was truly accidental or planned. Your mouth went dry when he asked, not having a concrete answer for why you chose that color scheme. Shrugging you tightly laughed, releasing your lip as you focused on your mirror. “I thought it was a pretty combination.”

Pretty, by association it was like you were calling Logan pretty. Even if you didn’t know about his original suit, still he associated himself with those colors. Logan mirrored how you were before, pulling his own bottom lip between his teeth as he chuckled. Struggling for a moment, Logan managed to flip his camera around to pan at his legs – the clean yellow and blue pants is all he had to remember his original suit. It caused your heartrate to pick up again, hammering in your chest as you got a brief glimpse at his clothed crotch. It took every fiber of your being to contain yourself, to hide the whimper clawing up the back of your throat. Lost in thought of what he could be hiding under there you didn’t notice how the screen flashed a few times – a text bubble popping up you couldn’t focus on. Logan took screenshots of your reaction.

The camera flipped back to Logan’s face, the heat cresting its way up your neck as you stared at him, your own pupils blown out.  “Do you still think so?” He teased, dropping his voice down a few octaves. You could tell he was wearing his headphones to talk, making it more intimate for him to hear than everyone else. It sent your body up in flames at how you could say anything, and it would be only for Logan. “More than ever before.” It was a no-brained response, you didn’t have to think in order to speak. Your mind was already as alert as it was going to be, the filter around Logan you had previously no longer existed on this call. Logan stopped his walking to stare down at you, narrowing his eyes with a genuine smile as he licked his lips, nodding to himself.

Logan jutted his chin out towards the camera as he started to walk up another well-lit street, never taking his eyes off the camera. “You wanna show me what my colors are hiding under there?” He nodded towards your bathrobe, a sliver of the bra showing against the fur collar. There was one of two ways this could’ve gone, either play into it or shy away. This was clearly an attempt from Logan to see how far you’d want to go with him, really a test for if this was accidental. Mutual pining after one another for so long burnt you both out, so if it kept going there would be no tell when it would stop. The power was now in your hands, there wasn’t much else you could play with. Putting on your best innocent eyes, you let the pretty little smile fall to your mouth, puffing your lower lip out slightly. “Dunno – you sure you can handle it?” Game on.

The sassy tone you let on with your question had Logan’s pants tightening, his breath coming out in sharp bursts as he tried to control himself. Having animalistic tendencies meant that anytime he was aroused, he needed to stake his claim. Show the world who you belong to, who his mate was. Even if you didn’t know, he did. He could smell it on you any time you went past him, or when you looked at him. In another life, in another world you were his – and he planned to make you his on Earth-10005 as well. Huffing out a disbelieving laugh, Logan snorted as he stopped in his tracks, pressing his back against the brick wall of one of the local pubs. “I can handle you, missy.” Logan hissed, letting his eyes go naturally wide to signify how serious he was. The low growl seeping up from his throat made your body shiver, made your fingers work slowly to undo the ties on your bathrobe. “Don’t get it twisted.”

You couldn’t help but snort to yourself as you heard Logan say that, never expecting the 200-year-old man to say something so modern. Laughing lowly as you stripped out of the bathrobe, you let a sliver of your chest show, how your robe fell off of your shoulder. Logan’s eyes narrowed in to watch you take it off, the silk falling behind you. All that he could see was the plush skin of your breasts hanging slightly over the cups, nothing more. A weak moan slipped past his parted lips as he watched, needing to shut his eyes for a moment so he wouldn’t cum in his pants. You knew you had Logan right where you wanted him, letting you take the control back of the situation. It made you feel powerful knowing he was so weak for you, even if it was for a short period of time. “Ew, Wade needs to stop teaching you catchphrases of the early 2010’s.” You weren’t a tease all the time, you could see Logan’s labored breathing through the call, could tell he needed a distraction.

Your remark was enough to make Logan open his eyes again, staring at you with a predatory glint in his eyes; The whites almost impossible to see. “Why are you changing the subject?” He panted, standing upright again as he pressed his covered back to the wall, cocking a brow in your direction. You weren’t prepared for Logan’s retort, thinking you may have the upper hand while he was aroused, yet he always managed to surprise you. Sucking your teeth, you shook your head in confusion, rolling your eyes away from his gaze. “Aw, is someone flustered?” He pouted, smiling with a hint of smugness. Your mouth falling open in a silent gasp made him chuckle, finding it quite adorable how you’re trying so hard. The burning across your face was a clear indication to you that Logan was getting under your skin, trying his hardest to truly break you. It wasn’t in a callous or mean way, but more to show you who you belonged to. Putting the phone closer to his face so you could see only him, he made sure he was loud and clear. “Don’t worry princess, I’ll be nice and gentle.”

“Fuck off, Howlett.” You laughed as you rolled your eyes, exposing your cleavage to the camera without realizing it, your cool slipping through your fingers. The dead giveaway of how he was affecting you came in the form of your camera shaking, your fingers betraying you as you tried to suck in a deep breath. Looking away from the camera didn’t help when Logan stared like he was going to eat you alive, devouring you with every glint his eyes gave. You had to admit it to yourself, your confidence reserve was running out, completely going dry the longer you sat and talked with Logan. If he didn’t act now, he was forever going to hold his peace. “I’d rather fuck you.” It flowed off his tongue so elegantly, never deterring his steps as he managed to walk again. At first you thought you may have misheard him but, you heard him loud and clear, perfect in fact.

The shock written across your face, mixed with desire caused Logan’s restraint to snap. He moved away from the bars entrance and instead kept straight, letting the cold November air nip at him a bit longer. For the first time in a long time, you were speechless. Mouth hanging open, brow creased with a mix of shock and anxiety, you were going through it within seconds, all because of dear Logan. The confidence, the bravado, the je ne sais quoi you have held on the up and up finally slipping. Revealing itself when the shy version of yourself you thought you buried. The submissive angel, Logan had you wrapped tightly around his hand, reminiscent of his old cage fighting wraps. “Eye-fucking can only get you so far, princess.” Logan knew you wouldn’t pull away now, you were putty in his hands. But he could have a little fun with you, and boy did he plan to. It was a sure thought that you weren’t as obvious as you may have thought when staring at Logan, silently begging him to fuck you. The whole time, he knew.

“You’ve known?” It was a silly question to ask but Logan wasn’t stupid. He’s been around for more than 200 years, he could see through stuff as it came through. He is also very well known for retorting back no but I do now, pretending to know a secret as a way to coax you into telling him. You had to make sure this wasn’t like that – or else you’d implode. Logan nodded at you as the lights started to dim around him, a gentle glow from afar lighting the edges of his face. He was still outside but away from the light pollution, an alleyway most likely. Propping his phone up on the closest discarded shelf near a door, he nodded as he pulled out his flask. “No shit I’ve known, you can thank Yukio for that one.” Yukio, your friend. There was no malicious feelings towards her for telling Logan, in fact she may have done you a favor. But it got you thinking, who else did she tell? Was it one giant secret that the whole group knew, hence why they tried to push you both together constantly? “She tells Wade everything.”

And there it was, the shot heard ‘round the world. It made sense that she told Wade, and Wade blabbed to Logan – Yukio would never face the conflict head-on, it went through a source. Releasing the breath you were unaware you were holding, you nodded into the open air as you sunk further against the bed, a bead of sweat gathering on your hairline. The back of your throat felt tight, dry, highly uncomfortable for your own liking. Trying to swallow was like trying to fit a watermelon into a wine bottle, impossible due to how high your blood pressure was. Now that the light pollution of the city wasn’t creating streaks of orange across his screen, he could fully take in your shocked state – seeing the tears gathering in the corner of your eyes. “What? You didn’t think I’d feel the same way?” Logan asked honestly, no longer keeping up the teasing. Seeing the distress on your face caused him to pull back, wanting you to tell him when it was good. He wasn’t going to push further; He didn’t want to ruin this.

The chord of your neck worked to string your words together, trying to find the best match to speak. Nothing felt, nor sounded right on your tongue; It drove you mad. “No, but I thought it was a fantasy more than anything.” You squeaked, coughing to bring some moisture back to your throat. Adjusting yourself on the floor, you brought the camera down a bit, pulling it further back for comfort – a typical position for you. Logan noticed though, how he could see you bright and clear as day, in your pale-yellow bra, that you had just for him. The slightly darker color of your nipple crept through the fabric, causing his pants to tighten, but he wouldn’t tease you further unless you felt better. “Can’t fantasies come true?” It was Logan’s last-ditch effort to ease the anxiety rising in your stomach. It helped, hearing him say that. It didn’t feel awkward anymore, it didn’t feel scary. It was beautiful, the start of something more.

“Are you sitting on the floor?” You pulled your camera back to pan it around yourself, showing off your little number as you sat, pulling your legs into a criss-crossed position. “Yeah, I got spooked off my bed thank you very much!” You stated with a smirk, showing how you were teasing. Logan liked how you said it, acting all sassy as you puffed out your bottom lip. It was cute, you looked precious to him. Everything about you made Logan feel alive, like his life was worth living instead of drowning it with the bottle. You made him want to be a better man, to settle down, start a family – anything you wanted he would give you even if you asked. That, is how much he loved you. “Flip your camera around.” He motioned, twirling his finger as he drank from his flask, groaning at the taste.

Obeying his command, you flipped your camera around as you showed him the mirror right in front of you. Waving cutely through it to him, you fluttered your legs as you sat, anticipation eating its way through you. Seeing the softness of your belly against your thong sent his mind spiraling, his eyes flickering to the fabric down further, hoping to God he could see your arousal. For a moment he took you in, how shy you were getting under his gaze. Hell, he could see the goosebumps forming themselves on your thighs, wanting to sink his teeth into the plushness of your flesh. Nudging his head towards you, his next command was on the tip of his tongue. “Spread your legs, c’mon.” The way it rolled out of his mouth like warm honey had your eyes wavering, threatening to roll back.

Slowly you began by uncrossing your legs, sticking your feet up absentmindedly towards the mirror, making sure to wiggle your toes under the stockings. It was a good tactic for teasing; Logan was living for your control. As your clothed claves hit the rug, you started to swing your legs open, letting each inch of the fabric rub against your soft legs. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, which didn’t go unnoticed by Logan, reveling in how responsive you are. “That’s it, good girl.” The fated words that made you lose yourself every time, fell out of Logan’s mouth so naturally. As he spoke that blissful name to you, finally your legs were fully open, able to see every little bit of you. It felt good, right to have his eyes on you. He wasn’t someone who could hide his emotions well nowadays, utterly losing it the longer he stayed with Wade. But in this moment you saw the true reserve on his face, the realization that even though he’s in some back bar’s alleyway, anyone could see him. The arousal coating his face, how his eyes focused harder to make out that tiny banana-yellow stain of your wetness on your panties, he was so lost in this moment. “Lean back, get comfortable. Eyes on me.”

“Yes, sir.” You nodded as you leaned back fully against the side of your bed. Reaching to your left, you grabbed at the tripod Nega got you for your birthday this year, shortening the neck of it to sit perfectly to your side. Shaky hands did not make for stable camera work. Something in the back of your mind said this would be the best thing for him; No shaky cam as he directed you, all hands free just for him, it was the perfect pick. Pushing your phone quickly into the top slot of the tripod, you placed your hands on the inside of your thighs, tickling the soft flesh as you awaited Logan’s next words. Beneath the lace, he could see your perky nipples pebbling at the mere instructions he was giving you – silently berating himself for not going over to your apartment and showing you why they call him an animal.

“You’re such a good listener. Don’t think, just do.” You weren’t even trying at this rate, you naturally fell into the submissive role so easily. A commanding personality like Logan always made you fold, obeying each word like it was spoken from God. It’s the reason it made you so special in the bedroom; It’s the reason Logan became obsessed with you. Seeing your submissive side slip through the cracks every now and again made him yearn, a man starved. He could have anyone and all he needed was you. “Listening so well for me.” It was what you could do well in this moment, even with the steady flow of blood pumping through your ears. The whooshing and thumping making it difficult to hear anything other than Logan; The current making room like Moses parted the Red Sea, only he shall walk on through. “Show me, sweetheart.” You felt like you were burning up, from the inside out. Cooking hotter by the words Logan was saying, not able to keep your cool anymore. The husk of his voice, mixed with the lucidness of the alcohol slipping around his tongue made you see stars. If it was possible, you’d cum just from his voice.

Antsy was a perfect descriptor of how you were feeling at the moment, suspense eating right through your chest as the insinuation in Logan’s voice. “Show you what, Lo?” Ah, yes. Your last semblance of control before Logan completely shit-stomped it. An irritated groan fell between Logan’s mouth as he slammed his hands against the wall, the shelving where you were propped up on shaking. His head dangled between his shoulders as he breathed heavily. “Show me how you touch yourself when you think of me.” That was the final straw, the endless teasing towards one another had finally broken. There would never be a way to go back from this, and you fucking thanked whatever or whoever was listening. Check fucking mate, Logan Howlett. That was all you needed to push forward.

You pulled at the side of your panties, swinging it onto the other side of your cunt as you opened your thighs up a bit more. The delicious stretch was aiding in the opening of your folds, letting the crisp air of your room lap through them. Logan drew his head up as he heard your silence, a painful growl slipping through his lips as he drew his brow together in pain. Nothing in this world could’ve prepared him for the sight he sees in front of him, the picture perfect gorgeousness, the thing he wanted tattooed on his brain. It was the purest form of Logan you could’ve possibly gotten; Veins of his neck bulging, eyes slanted so close to being closed, labored breathing like he ran a marathon. This was The Wolverine.

The sight on your phone made a fresh wave of your slick run out of your cunt, seeping onto the thin fabric between your cheeks. Using your first and forefinger to part yourself, you made sure to keeps your eyes on the mirror, eyeing the camera as you rubbed your pearly nub. The bead erect with arousal, begging to be touched. A simple flick of your finger across it had your entire lower half jolting. The sensation almost too much for your sensitive clit. Chewing on your bottom lip to help calm you down, slowly you began to make tentative circles with your first and middle finger, getting used to the sensation as your other hand slipped right under your bed to your secret box, one that no one would suspect.

Logan didn’t miss how you rubbed yourself so tenderly, loving yourself in the greatest way possible, while watching the perverse side of him come alive. He felt so naughty watching you masturbate, listening to his directions in the fucking alleyway. If he ran fast enough, he could be at your apartment before you made yourself orgasm, able to eat you out until you were crying for him to stop. No, this’ll do. He also didn’t miss how you reached frantically under your bed, eyes still on him as you grabbed a velvet bag. The purple glistened against the LED strips lights in your room, the multichrome coloring reflecting rainbows against your fingers. Quickly you worked the bag open, trying to grab at the first toy you could reach. Of course, it was not only the biggest dildo you had, but also happened to be yellow and blue. When Logan saw that, girth and all, he was roiling.

With how wet you were, you didn’t need lube to push your toy into you. Needy didn’t even touch upon how you felt. “Easy there baby, inch at a time. Ease it in, that’s it.” Logan cooed as you struggled to stretch around your toy, the burn already aiding in your arousal. Nodding at Logan’s words, you slowly inched the toy within your tight hole, never letting up on your clit to aid in the stretch. “L-Lo,” you moaned out quickly, eyes rolling back as your head lulled. If Logan was anything like this toy, you’d be unable to walk in the morning, you were hoping for that. “What, sweetheart? Feel too good?” Logan mewled as he gripped his tented cock through his pants, reveling in the harshness at which he was grabbing it. The bark he let out made your body shake, the thickest part of your dildo fully sheathed inside of you. “You deserve to feel this good honey, you’re the best girl.”

The praise was too much as you reached the base of the toy, your lower belly feeling so full of it. Carefully you pulled back on the toy, letting half of it out before you pushed it back in. The rigidness of the silicone rubbing against your spongy spot made you gasp, a throaty moan slipping into the night’s air, echoing throughout Logan’s headphones. “That’s my girl, nice and steady baby.” Logan had no idea what he was even saying anymore, or where he was going. All he knew was that his mouth was going and his feet were moving. Where they’d end up? He’d find out sooner or later. Palming himself as he steadily walked, Logan cut down the corner of the alley, making his way left. “Stretch that cunt out for me honey. I’ll fill you real soon.” Looking down at his screen all he could see was your blissed out face, the hearty stretch of your pussy around your toy, and the absolutely hot sight of your glistening body in his colors. “Just keep going, focus on my voice.”

Nodding at his words, you started to move the toy faster inside of you. The grip you had on the base helped it to conform to your cunt, filling in every ridge. Words escaped you in this moment, all you could do was focus on Logan’s face on your phone, watching how he never looked up at he walked, eyeing you like you were the World Series. Cresting behind your eyes was your orgasm, threatening to take you out with one swipe of your fingers. You couldn’t finish so soon, you wanted Logan to see exactly how it was for you. But there was no use, your arousal was so high, you were going to cum one way or another. The small squeak you let out caused Logan to stop in his tracks, glaring down at the phone will his full, undivided attention. “Look at the mirror baby, watch how sexy you are when you cum.” The breathy moan to which he released those words caused you to unleash the deepest groan you could muster, eyes blown out to nothing as you looked in the mirror.

Just like that, like the snap of your fingers, that string tethering you and Logan together snapped. Everything went white. Your ears rang as your throat became raw – yet no sound broke through. The sweetest coaxing could be heard miles away but yet it faded quickly. The world wasn’t spinning or moving for that matter. Instead, it was just staying still, letting you soak in this orgasmic bliss. Slowly the fog began to clear for you, your vision turning solid again as you watched the mirror. Heavy panting made up the sound coming back. The shaking of your body slowing down the longer you twirled the toy inside of you, rubbing your fingers deftly across your clit. Little by little, the blissful nature of your orgasm satiating that deep hunger looming in your chest. “That’s my good girl, making me so proud.” Logan’s tender voice cut through the staticky sound as your breathing steadiest itself. Licking your lips as you let your eyes wander around your room, you noticed that your tripod was a lot taller than you initially realized, almost looming over you as your fingers never stopped. Only that wasn’t your tripod, and that voice you heard was coming from directly beside you.

“Hi, princess,” Logan smirked into the mirror, meeting your gaze as you realized what was happening. It took a moment for it to register, wondering why he looked so much bigger now. Watching the figure of Logan reach between your legs in the mirror, it only clicked to you when you felt his grip close around the base of the dildo, pulling it out of you with cautionary ease. Shivering from the loss of girth within you, you snapped your head to the right as Logan caught your eyes. Smirking, he waved the wet dildo at you, chuckling as he threw it onto the bed. “H-Hey Logan,” you managed to let out, gulping down the pool of saliva in your bed. Nudging his chin behind you, Logan ran his calloused fingers over your chin, gripping your skin firmly. “Get on the bed.” It wasn’t an ask, it wasn’t a question. It was an order.

“Logan-“ you began, but were stopped when Logan grabbed at your throat, pushing against your pulse point with two fingers. The new sensation made your core clench around nothing, pulsating openly as you looked into Logan’s obsidian eyes, trying to make out what was going to happen. “Now.” Logan ordered, grabbing you by the neck and waist as he helped you up. Standing on wobbly knees was not a good idea, but damn it if it didn’t feel good. It took a moment to acclimate back into your body, Logan’s bodyweight kept you upright as you struggled. “Don’t make me tell you again, you won’t like that.” The threat made you want to break it, break him. Playing a brat for him would be a fun adventure, but the desperate nature of your arousal made you reconsider. Yet you were naturally doing it, and Logan was going to love punishing you later. “Very good girl.” Logan praised as you slowly sat back onto the bed, letting the silky material of the duvet caress your body.

How did he get in here? That was a question crossing your mind, nothing else but how. He wasn’t there all the time and you knew it, remembering that you were FaceTiming him. Narrowing your eyes in the direction of the bedroom door, you thankfully had a clear view to your front door, seeing that it was shut but – not quite perfect anymore. A smirk laid across your lips as you noticed the claw marks on the door, specifically around the doorknob, you assumed on both sides. Plus, the small splinter on top of his hand that he is currently picking out was enough tell for you. Logan had used his claws to unlock your door and get into your apartment. He was never going to the bar, this entire time he was walking to your apartment. It made sense now. This whole time he was coming to make you his. The revelation caused you to whimper out of pure love, no longer lust. Of course though, that didn’t last long. For what you saw next, shook you to your core.

Standing in between your legs was Logan fucking Howlett. The Wolverine. No longer did he wear his TVA jacket he was given earlier this year, but instead stood shirtless over you. The sweat on his body caused his chiseled physique to glisten in your room, his natural musk making your hornier by the second. His pants you had seen earlier of the same color scheme you are wearing, brushing wonderfully against your baren thighs. The reinforced nylon feeling like silk across your skin. Panning your eyes up to his hands, slowly Logan started to release his claws, inch by inch. A pained expression crossed across his mouth at the extension, but he fucking loved it. Why can I only see half of his face? As your eyes made their way upwards, no longer could you see his darkened eyes, instead replaced with something that shouldn’t have been considered hot. Across his eyes, around the top of his head was The Wolverine cowl, complete with, as Wade called them, blowjob handles. The animal himself, standing right between your legs.

You sunk back slowly on your elbows, stretching your legs open wider to fit all of him. Biting your lip, you looked up at Logan between your lashes, panting like a bitch in heat as you take him all in. “You want to see the real power yellow and blue really holds?” He growled, lightly tracing the dull edge of his claws against your sides. Yes, you do. Needless to say, this was the start of you wearing his colors, especially if this would happen every time.

----

Tagging: @livelaughl0ve3 @mehjustalasshere @allen-444 @begaytotallygay @tezooks @hughj1d @pinkanonwriting @craziersarah98 @actuallybridgetjones

[simonrileysfavteacup]

Simon From The Wiggles

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x wife!reader

Word Count: 632

Warnings: dad!simon, mom!reader, simon's first born son being named tommy after his brother, fluff

Summary: Coming home after a mission to his favourite people in the world, Simon experiences one of the best moments of his life.

(this is the guy being spoken about)

Simon had been off on a mission for a month or so, practically crawling to get back to you and your son, Tommy. The little bugger had just surpassed 10 months and he had began babbling. He was the most adorable thing and you both loved him to death. He was the light in the dark for Simon, much like you were the sun to his rain. 

When he finally did step back into your home, he immediately heard giggles coming from the living room. Tommy’s sweet little giggles. His babbling too, echoing throughout your house. He stripped off his gear, leaving everything by the door, including his mask. Simon stepped into the living room in just his compression shirt and tactical pants, smiling at the sight of you sitting on the ground, holding Tommy on your lap. 

The little boy’s eyes light up at the sight of his father, kicking his legs to get to him. Poor guy still doesn’t understand how walking works. Simon smiles, bending down to take the boy into his arms, tossing him up into the air and catching him again like a ball, just how he likes. 

You stand up, pressing a kiss to Simon’s cheek, smiling. “Hi honey, welcome home.”

He grins, “Hi lovie. You both have fun withou’ me?”

“Lots,” you nod at Tommy, nudging him with your nose. “Ain’t that right, bubba?”

The little boy giggles and fills the house with his little babbles. The sight makes Simon’s heart flutter. 

“Why don’t you two sit down, huh? I’m gonna go get started on dinner,” you kiss Tommy’s temple and Simon’s cheek. 

You head into the kitchen, preparing dinner. 

Simon sits down with Tommy, placing the little boy on his lap as he turns the tv volume back up. 

There’s these 3 guys, in different coloured shirts–blue, purple, and red–singing, with a girl in a yellow dress, bow in her hair. They look Simon’s age. He chuckles. Tommy’s face lights up, squealing.

“Mi-mom!” The boy babbles. 

Simon blinks. He does a double take. “What you sayin’, bubby?”

The boy giggles, still staring at the screen. He claps his hands, “Mi-mon!” 

It’s more audible this time too. But Simon still hears what he heard before.

“Lovie! He said i’! He said his firs’ word! My name! Lovie!” he shouts. 

You poke your head back into the living room. “Really?”

“Yeah! Say it agai’, bubby! Come on!” Simon’s voice is filled with excitement.

“Mi-mon! Mi-mon! Mi-mon!” Tommy claps and giggles at the top of his lungs. 

“Damn it, bubby. You ruined the surprise,” you shake your head. 

Simon furrows his brows in confusion. Why aren’t you excited like he is? Your first child just said his first word!

“Whadya mean, lovie? ‘his is amazin’!” Simon tosses his baby boy into the air. “My name!” 

“He wasn’t referring to you, Si,” you bite your lip to hold back a giggle. “One of his favourite characters in that show is called Simon…he said his name 2 days ago…I was going to surprise you.”

“What? What show?” Simon remains confused. 

“Simon…from…the wiggles…”

“‘M sorry, lovie, what the fuck did you jus’ say?” 

“The red guy on the tv, that’s him…” 

“The old guy? Tommy loves ‘im?” 

“Mhm.” 

The little boy in question is kicking to get back to the tv. 

“I’m sorry, honey…I know you were super excited and you should still be! His first word was Simon! We can tell people it was for you!” 

“Lil bugger,” Simon nudges his son. “Say it again.”

The boy giggles, not yet understanding his father. 

“Si, it’s a good thing, right?” you smile. 

“‘Course, lovie, he’s gonna be talkin’ soon, and he’ll be able to say daddy,” Simon tickles the boy. “Ain’t that right, Mi-mon?” 

Tommy’s eyes light up. “Mi-mon!” 

[inlovewithpandora]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — Summers Of Pandora ᝰ Day 25 - Exhibition

Artists — Tsireya x fem!Metkayina!reader

Lyrics — Tsireya’s not having fun at the annual festival the clan throws, the performers aren’t as enticing to her as they are to you so to keep herself happy she decides to have a little fun with you, by slipping her hands in your loincloth.

Music Advisory — smut (18+), porn w/ (little) plot, aged!up Tsireya, in public sex, fingering (r! receiving) , breast/nipple play, clit stimulation, mention of squirting, cum eating, implied exhibition kink ᝰ this fic does contain aged!up character smut so if you don’t like that type of content please don’t interact and continue scrolling!!

Duration — under 1k

Index — tanhì - star; bioluminescent freckle • mawey - calm

Words from Artist — This is my first time writing smut for Tsireya so let me know how you guys like the story and if you want to see more smut with her. This was fun fic to write and i enjoyed the plot of this! As always feel free to comment and reblog, I love reading y’all reactions! I hope you enjoy!!

Current Platforms — event m.list・main m.list・event taglist ・prompt list

The moonlight is shining over Awa’atlu and the whole clan is gathered on the beach for the annual festival where the singers and dancers of the clan perform multiple songs and acts. Everyone is watching the dancers in awe while Tsireya is getting bored and restless. She’s been attending these events since she was young and over the years she’s grown tired of them. “y/n, can we go? I’m ready to leave.” She whines in your ear, wanting to go home and cuddle in your shared marui until you both drift off to sleep.

“No, ‘reya, just relax. It’ll be over soon.” You lean back and kiss her cheek while grabbing her arms, wrapping them around your waist as you sit on her lap, hoping that the physical touch will be enough to hold her over until the festival ends. You’ve always loved watching the dancers and how they performed difficult routines and executed them with such ease and grace, meanwhile, Tsireya isn’t slightly as amused by their performance and you can tell by the way she keeps on tracing circles on your skin.

You can hear the faint sound of her tail thumping against the sand which makes you realize that she is growing impatient. It’s been almost twenty minutes since her last plea to leave and at this point, she’s tired of waiting. The clan's energy is high and she can tell that the festival isn’t dying down any time soon, so she wants to find a sense of entertainment and have some real fun.

When you’re laser-focused on the angelic voice of the singers, Tsireya slips her right hand into your loincloth and starts circling her finger over your clit, causing you to jump slightly from the unexpected stimulation. “Tsireya, what are you doing?!” You whisper-yell as you grab her wrist to make her stop, causing her to use her left hand to smack your hand away. “Mawey, tanhì. You don’t want people to notice, do you?” She asks rhetorically as her hot breath trickles down your skin while she presses soft kisses against the crease of your neck.

The mischievousness in her voice annoys you because she knows exactly what she’s doing, intentionally wanting to turn you into nothing but a whimpering mess. You are about to spew out a rebuttal, but when you feel her tease your folds, a moan you were trying to repress slips out instead. “Tsireya, w-we can’t do this right now.” You can’t believe your mate is trying to do this in public, having you moan and squirm in her lap while there are people around to witness the lewd act that’s taking place between you two. Usually you hate the idea of this but with your brain feeling cloudy with pleasure it slightly turns you on that someone could be watching Tsireya touch and caress your exposed skin.

“Well, your body is telling me differently.” She retorts while fully thrusting her fingers into your heat, eliciting a whimper to fall from your lips. It is true, your words and actions are on completely different wavelengths. Your mouth is telling her to stop while you are practically riding her fingers, trying to make the pads of her fingertips touch the spongy part of your walls. “Just let me take care of you.” Her hand circles around your waist and moves up to your chest, moving the material that’s covering your left breast to the side, and begins to play with your hardened nipple.

“Mmm, shit!” You squeal, feeling overwhelmed by the pleasure of her strokes and how she is fondling your body just the way you like. The fact that she is using your body as a source of amusement makes you even wetter than you’ve ever been before, your slick is literally dripping down her fingers and smearing on your inner thighs. “Oh—Tsireya!” You whine while throwing your head back to rest on her shoulder, feeling a sense of pressure build up in your stomach, a sign that it would only take a few more thrusts before you come completely undone.

Tsireya knows that you are only seconds away from cumming all over her slender fingers, so for that reason she doesn’t mind you’re getting louder with the sweet noises that are spewing from your lips. The crowds’ loud cheering, yelling, and talking are drowning out your yelps and moans and thankfully the two of you are at the very back of the beach. Your mate can smell your fruit scented slick, and it clouds her brain, making her want to speed up the process of your upcoming orgasm by using a new technique.

When you feel her thumb rapidly swipe across your raw bundle of nerves and her fingers rut harder against the entrance of your womb simultaneously, you could feel yourself growing breathless while your muscles begin to contract. “Ts-Tsireya, I’m gonna—”

“Make a mess on me, tanhì.” Her gentle, lustful voice traveling through your ear canal, her soft lips pressed against the flap of your ear, and her filthy movements cause your eyes to roll to the back of your head as your orgasm rips through your body. Your juices mixed with your sticky release gushes out of your cunt onto her fingers, splashing onto her wrist and other parts of her skin that aren’t covered.

Once she helps you ride out your high and your body begins to calm, Tsireya withdraws her fingers from your tight hole and places them in her mouth, wanting the taste of your sweetness on her tongue. When she pops her fingers out of her mouth, she finally feels satisfied, coaxing an orgasm out of you was fun for her, in her mind you are hands down the best entertainment she’s had tonight.

Fanbase — @Peanut713521 @anemonelovesfiction n @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @makaylalovessmut @Kaydoux @biaaaaaaaa1 @hikotaru @thisaintredwine @lexieeeeeeeei @that-gurl25 @erenjaegerwifee @eme1hyst @o-kingston @neteyamyawne

— all rights reserved © INLOVEWITHPANDORA 2024. all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate, repost nor recommend on tiktok any of the works seen here.

[slowcatsworld]

Julian Loki acts like an older sibling. PART 1

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Small disclaimer, as far as I’m aware his family hasn’t been mentioned in canon in the manga or the egoist bible; therefore I’m basing this off of his interactions with other characters in the manga. Also bear with me, I wrote a lot of words.

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Julian Loki’s introduction: good sportsmanship

Julian Loki already acts differently than the other World 5 players in their introduction in chapter 90, both physically and personality wise. Julian is the only player that is not an adult since he’s 17, and the only one that practiced good sportsmanship throughout the whole ‘World 5 game.’

This is seen when he tells Leonardo Luna to not disrespect Japanese soccer to the Blue Lock team (when Luna states, “Gambling your lives on a wish that will never come true..Japanese people really are the world’s top masochists!” and with his handshake/conversation with Isagi before the match started.

Despite being the youngest on his team, Julian shows the most maturity and respect towards his opponents (which is something taught to young players of every sport for them to carry this sportsmanship into the rest of their career) even though some of his teammates are a whole decade older than him and have been in the world of soccer longer.

(I love Isagi’s little profiles he makes of different characters, and how he notices Loki’s polite manners and confidence but I’ll get back to that later maybe hehe)

Julian Loki- Master Striker in the NEL: Maturity & Adaptability/Flexibility

Julian Loki was announced as the Master Striker for France’s team PXG in the Neo Egoist League, which is insane when you take into account he’s coaching players around the same age as him. (Love me a mature boy) In chapter 244/246 I think the reader is able to understand a lot about Julian’s flexibility as a coach even though it wasn’t that much explicitly stated.

PXG is beginning a match with Barca, and they start with Rin as their main attacker with Shidou off the field. Later we see Rin get swapped for Shidou, so the both of them get their turns as the star and to score goals. This makes the most sense since we, as a reader, know that Rin and Shidou so far have had no chemistry at all and the two of them do not work well together at all.

However, Julian didn’t know that prior to them joining PXG. He had to figure out a solution to this in order for PXG to perform well on the field during matches. The games are set in a round robin format with two games every 10 days (if I’m not mistaken) and PXG has played either 3 or 4 times. Plus, these aren’t 90 minute games, they’re just to 3 points. These games are relatively short, probably less than 30 minutes long (idk, I quit soccer a long time ago.) This means aside from scrimmages and training practice, Julian had a rather small amount of time to develop a play style that would suit both of these very different strikers that refuse to work together.

Julian Loki found something that worked too. Whether he experimented by placing one of the two (Shidou/Rin) in for the whole game or talked with them both about what to do, Julian made a strategy that everyone benefited from. (GUYS! Ik he stated in chap. 246 that he experimented with their play styles to create two factions on the PXG line up, but pick up what I’m putting down yk?? Adversity!)

This shows how adaptive Loki is able to be in unfavorable circumstances and create opportunities from it. Julian has been trying to create an environment that encourages Charles to grow as a player. Because of Julian’s thought process of using both Rin and Shidou at different times to help Charles, we’ve witnessed how adaptable he can be.

[parachutingkitten]

Why is Pixane So Queer?

Some thoughts on Asexual Romance.

[warning, long post below the cut]

The Ninjago fandom had a very potent reaction to The Quest for the Lost Powers repeatedly describing Pixal and Zane as being 'very close friends'. This seemed quite contradictory to many who assumed the confession of undying love at the end of the last season might have been a small hint at a romantic relationship of some kind. However, after closer examination, it turns out Pixal and Zane don’t ever actually refer to themselves as a couple, and the show has never once referred to them being in an active relationship.

But there’s something here, right? Sure, it’s not explicitly stated, but you are lying to yourself if you can watch them and tell me there is zero romantic subtext going on here. A lot of people got very defensive that the children’s book stated they were friends, especially when it also seemingly confirmed that the much straighter straight boy ship, Kailor, was apparently canon, despite being only implied as a possible future for ages now. But I find this backlash to be a bit strange. Sure, Zane and Pix aren’t exactly ‘just friends’ but, what do you want them to say? That they’re boyfriend and girlfriend? You want these two to say they’re ‘going out’ with each other? You think these two robots are ‘dating’ each other, like they’re just susin’ out the partner pool. Are those the words that fit this relationship to you?

I found myself feeling weirdly offended at everyone, and I think the reason was that these two love-droids haven’t chosen to define their relationship in traditional terms, and so everyone’s insistence that they should be boxed into some sort of traditional term seems inherently strange. It’s like when two elderly people are dating, it feels weird when they say “this is my girlfriend” because despite it being factually true, there’s so much baggage that comes with the word, part of that implication being youth, which is directly at odds with the immediate situation. It’s the correctness of the word paired with the incorrectness of the societal implications which forces you to assess if those societal implications should exist. And that- that is what makes this relationship feel queer. That’s why there’s this undeniably different kinda energy radiating off of it. It’s that rejection of the traditional labels, the refusal to be put into a box, which forces it to be a-typical. But, why? Why does Pixane have this rejection of labels radiating off of it? Their ages, while being literally whack, are presented as being your typical teenage to young adult age romance. Their genders present as a typical hetero pairing. And it’s not like they don’t follow your typical cliche love at first sight plot. I mean, Pixal was pretty explicitly created as a generic love interest character. So, what is it? Why is this queer? Spoiler alert: It’s because they’re asexual.

So, what is asexuality? Strictly defined, it is a community of people who experience little to no sexual attraction to anyone. This is distinct from aromanticism, which is a lack of romantic attraction, and sexual engagement or urges which are their own separate boat, but often have overlap with asexuality. However, for our purposes, we are focused on just the sexual attraction part. You can think of it as the difference between finding someone hot and finding someone cute. That’s the distinction that made it click for me anyway.

Now, as a disclaimer, I am not going to be considering other queer interpretations of this relationship. Not to invalidate them, because of course they’re valid, but specifically because I feel there isn’t precedent for them in the text, and I feel there is for asexuality. This deep dive is particularly about validating asexuality as being queer, and so to do that we have to eliminate any other outstanding factors. People are extremely quick to pin asexual queerness to something else, and that in itself can feel invalidating, even if it’s only attempting to validate other communities as well. Asexual romance is so easily read as straight romance, that any queer undertones have to have an alternate explanation, because asexuality doesn’t seem like enough to cross the barrier. Yes, enby interpretations of Pixane are great, and fantastic, and I would die for your right to follow those headcanons, but to pin the in text queer vibes on the fact that they technically don’t have biological gender, despite having very clear presenting and unwavering genders in text seems like a real easy way to dismiss the asexual coding which is staring me in the face. While things like non-binary or aromantic readings validate communities who have immense oppression and are continually called fake or confused, which is insanely important, asexuality, especially as it stands apart from aromanticism, is often confused as not being a difference at all. You’re just pure! You’re just wholesome! You’re just so sweet and innocent! And yes… yes, I am, but also, it’s more than that. It’s fundamentally something different about the way my brain is wired, and I feel a need to defend the fact that it, specifically, is queer. And in no way am I trying to say that the aces are the most oppressed actually, I don’t want to start the oppression Olympics here, and if we were to, I would probably argue quite the opposite, but I am saying that there is oppression, and it comes from outside and inside of the community, and it is a thing. It’s a different flavor of thing that’s maybe not as severe, but also sits differently. Maybe it’s not as much a pressing thing as other things, but… it’s my thing. It’s what I feel. It’s something I can speak on. So, I’m going to speak on it.

Perhaps one of the largest factors asexuality has to offer is the necessary separation of romance and sex. The packaging of sexual attraction and romantic attraction is so ubiquitous that the term ace is often assumed to be referring to aro/ace people, despite there being a term for that… aro/ace! Asexuality is not an easy queerness to explain, precisely because of this deeply held integration. It’s not a difference of experience necessarily, it’s a lack of a certain experience. I’m not saying this is something you can’t understand, because, unless you’re aromantic, I know you understand it! You are going to be able to like and relate to and feel seen by asexual romances, because the main component it requires is that you have romantic attraction- which is most people. And so many people get confused when you point to an asexual thing and go “I get that! This! This is me!” Because they just respond with “You’re not special, I get that too. Is this supposed to be different?” And, yes, it is, primarily because everything else includes this giant other thing as well, which is sexuality.

When vegans get excited about finding a meal which is especially delicious and also meets their food restrictions, they get particularly excited. That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy that same vegan meal- no doubt it probably tastes incredibly delicious to you as well. But you likely won’t get that same feeling of excitement, because you don’t live under the same restrictions as vegans do. That’s the same thing I feel when I see an asexually coded romance. I can enjoy the full meal without having to pick things out or ignore vital parts. I have no doubt that others can thoroughly enjoy asexual romances, but you’re going to have to look at it in context of all the dominant romance stories in the world to understand why it’s so different and special to me.

Now, have I cracked the code on asexual romance in media? No. I only have my own experience with asexuality to lean on, and the very limited discourse on the topic I’ve come across while discovering my identity. All of this is simply a theory based on my own thoughts and observations, but these are some explanations as to what might possibly be included in a framework for an asexually coded romance, at least to me.

So, what makes romance asexual? It’s not simply a lack of sexual suggestiveness. Any number of romances aren’t sexually suggestive, but still glaringly heteronormative- especially in children’s television. And it’s also not a lack of initial attraction, as that would throw Pixane out of the running for sure. Well, I have a few things which I feel may contribute to asexual coding of a romantic relationship, and wouldn’t you know, Pixane is a great example of all of them.

Asexual romance may, as many have remarked, come off as more innocent. When you shove all of the focus of characters onto the romantic, emotional connection, rather than any underlying sexual tension, things end up feeling extremely innocent to the layperson. You get the sort of old married couple effect. Two people deeply in love, who just sort of stare at each other in awe, and that others can comment on how cute they are. Again, asexuals don’t necessarily find anything hot. Cuteness is the main operative factor motivating their attraction, so it follows that their interactions would radiate that factor back at observers. The characters might in fact be very touchy, have sex, enjoy that physical touch, but that’s not at the forefront of anyone’s mind in the story. This is an aspect of Pixane that can be read very clearly. Their romance is quite easily described as pure and wholesome by all who have the pleasure of observing them. The way they interact with each other is extremely gentle and supportive, and their level of old married couple vibes is by far the highest of any pairings in the show (aside from perhaps the actual old married couple of Ed and Edna).

Asexual romance, I find to often be less conflict driven. Take the classic enemies to lovers plotline- it’s built on a tension between an innate irrational attraction, and a perceived logical personality conflict. While romantic attraction is certainly not always rational, from my understanding, sexual attraction is often rooted in factors that aren’t at all related to logical compatibility or personality. This means the enemies to lovers plot is primed to work much better when sexually charged, because it presents a clear path to create the hate/love conflict. Not to say that asexual enemies to lovers is impossible, or that asexual partners don’t have conflict between them, but that it is less of an obvious threat to incorporate into asexual romance.  Because there are less factors and layers of attraction to get involved in, there’s less room for conflict and contradiction between them. It is much easier to get tangled up in a situation with more strings. Pixane is a relationship which certainly doesn’t hold much internal conflict. The one disagreement they did have is solved quite neatly with basic communication skills in the middle of season 8. Most of their conflict comes from external factors which separate them or cause misunderstanding, rather than conflict from within the characters themselves.

Asexual romance also has the obvious potential to challenge traditional dating norms. Because there is no impulse to escalate things physically, it makes sense that the progression of an asexual romance would differ from traditional relationships where that escalation is expected. Your asexual romance is bound to get emotionally intense with each other quicker, or at least have it be the focus of their story, because there is no other facet to deal with. Asexuals don’t commonly have sexual fantasies for themselves, but rather romantic fantasies. Not to say that most people don’t have romantic fantasies, but… that’s all we’ve got. And when your impulse is ‘let’s get married, and then maybe I guess we can kiss’, it might seem like things are progressing out of order to the average person. While asexuals don't all hate physical contact or even sexual connection, it isn't an attractive or motivating factor in the same way it is in most romances, so even on a base level, the level of physical contact is likely going to be less than average. Pixane progresses ridiculously out of order. Zane is willing to split his soul for her- it’s only at this point that they romantically hold hands for the first time. It’s the emotional connection between the two that comes first, and all classic tangible symbols of affection and romance that are secondary. The most pronounced physical contact we’ve seen is a cheek kiss, and their most common type of physical contact is enthusiastic hugging (which I’ll dive more into later).

Additionally, because physical affection is more of an afterthought, it would also make sense for labels to come slowly. If you have an incredibly close personal, soulful connection, but you haven’t kissed yet, it makes sense for people around you to assume you’re just really close friends, or perhaps just crushing on each other still. Terms like “girlfriend” and “boyfriend” invoke rather physical tactile images, and so to attempt to apply them to an asexual romance isn’t necessarily wrong but may feel a bit off putting because of this dissonance. Again, it’s this dissonance between the romantic meaning of the word, and the sexual undertones which forces discomfort onto the viewer. Pixal and Zane have yet to kiss each other after years of dancing around each other’s obvious romantic feelings. It remains unclear if they even are in an active romantic relationship at all, or are still mutually pinning, as no labels have been given to their relationship in show. I have no doubt part of this is the lack of planned dates or physical affection which are common outward signals of a traditional established relationship.

A lot of the saucy flirting which accompanies many classic heteronormative romances can seem rather pointless to asexuals. I would venture to say that asexuals are likely more direct and up front with their emotional vulnerability and feelings, because that’s the connection which they are seeking to make. To dance around it with innuendo and mind games is rather unproductive in achieving the end goal. There is less of a pressure to “perform” romance, and instead just be honestly romantic, because the romance isn’t a prelude to sex, or physical affection, it’s the end goal in and of itself. To only pretend to do it is entirely pointless. All of this is likely going to result in a romance which puts less focus on the “game of dating”. I mean, can you imagine Pixane ending up in a Jaya style love triangle? It’s almost an absurd pitch to make, right? There is no performativity to the Pixane relationship, it is exactly as it appears at first glance. And when Zane attempts more traditional, cheesy flirting tactics like in Ninjago Confidential, Pixal is nothing but confused and annoyed by his attempts.

The most prominent example which I feel exemplifies the inherently asexual coding of Pixane applies to many robotic romances- and it’s the characters’ relationship with skin. A lot of sexual suggestion and tension is based on skin. The revealing nature of skin exposure, the feeling of skin on skin being a sexual touchpoint, skin is essential to the sexual experience in most instances. This is part of the reason I love writing romance but have yet to write a kiss between anyone. The sexuality of a kiss is inherently uncomfortable to write for me because you’re encouraged to lean into the physical feeling of the touch of skin. Robots bring to the forefront the idea of this physical contact because their skin is often not exactly skin, and that in itself gives a sort of de facto distance from sexuality. There’s a moment which happens repeatedly with Pixane, and shows up in other robotic romances, like Wall-E and Eve, which I feel highlights this essential separation from the skin of sexuality. Pixane and Wall-Eve both have the ‘clink’ moment, in which intimate physical contact is made, (in Pixane’s case, all of their many hugs) and accentuated by the sound of their metal skin meeting with a loud clink. This sound not only highlights their lack of skin but serves to suck any sexual energy out of the interaction immediately and leaves it purely with the romance intended by the action. It’s not uncommon for people to find the sound humorous, precisely because of how desexualizing it is. It highlights the couples’ incapability of indulging in sexual skin on skin contact, and instead the closeness and companionship the act of touching provides.

And this is why I feel robots are in fact a decent candidate for asexual characters if done properly. Robots being coded as asexual can be a very negative stereotype, particularly when their asexuality is explicitly linked to their lack of emotion and feeling- but media about robots has been trending more positively recently. In fact, robots, if used correctly, may actually validate asexuality explicitly. Robotic characters are often used to explore the idea of what makes humanity human. If we give these robots human-like enough traits, when do they become human? Are they perhaps the most human? And it seems like fictional consensus agrees that sexuality is not required to achieve human status. Stripping away the excess human emotions may be part of what makes robots asexual (or aromatic, if your robot is also incapable of romantic love). The medium of robot literalizes the disconnect that asexuals have with their physical bodies, most notably their skin, and serves to put additional distance between the character and sexual contact, at least in the traditional sense. I mean, think about it, if you want your robot to be sexual, you need to go out of your way to establish that it has sexual capability, because no one is going to simply assume that your fictional robot was designed with that capability in mind. Why would it be, unless that was its explicit purpose? In a way, robots are sort of de facto asexual.

Pixane is queer because it’s asexual, and it’s asexual because they distill down only the purely romantic parts of a romantic relationship. They’re able to do this, in part because of their individual characterization, but also because of their robotic bodies, which make the separation between romance and sexuality just that much easier. They highlight the necessity to separate romance from all of the convoluted sexual layers which often accompany it, and so come out feeling distinctly untraditional and subversive.

That's the theory, again, all hyper based on my own personal experience with asexuality, which is of course not all encompassing. I'd love to hear your thoughts :)

[eddiediazismyhusband]

i really want a fic of eddie realising him and buck have been falling in love the entire time.

I keep seeing posts (and even had someone tell me) that it’d be unrealistic for Eddie to be in love with Buck and not realise. Like not even think of him as an option. 

But that’s such a real queer person thing- i’ve lived that experience. I’m a women and despite all the times I admired other women it took forever for it to click for me.

I mean I grew up with accepting parents and kind friends and even queer people on tv. I remember looking at girls as much as I looked at boys. And yet I still had the reoccurring thought “I could be gay, I mean i’m not- but I could be. But most people aren’t gay and i’m most people”. (gay being used here in my head to mean “not straight”) AND YET despite it all I didn’t realise i was Bi until I was much older.

And even then, I’d had at least two long term crushes without realising they were crushes before it clicked. 

(I kid you not- it took a drag queen talking to me like i was a toddler for it to click, but that’s a whole other story SO-) 

Whether or not Eddie already knows he’s gay (or demi or whatever) doesn’t really make a difference, cause it’s that same sort of heteronormative internalising that causes these feeling to not be understood. 

Especially for Eddies character who’s had this messy norm with Shannon for so long, a stable thing to grasp (even when their relationship was a mess) and then her death and him chasing to find that weak grasp to SOMETHING again- something that can be another excuse to not go looking for himself. 

Like he’s internalised this behaviour of, “if i’m in a relationship, I don’t have to look deep and figure out why it’s not working” and never quite realising that maybe the reason it’s not working is cause he’s trying to replace something that was never really real.

(Speaking of, Eddie and Shannon are the epitome of loml by taylor swift. I mean- “we were just kids babe” “from one kiss to getting married” “something counterfeits dead” “what a valiant roar, what a bland goodbye” “i’m combing through the band of lies- “i’ll never leave” never mind”) 

babe you are speaking to the POSTER CHILD of raised in a religious household and convinced themselves they weren’t queer until it was staring them in the face

the biggest issue is that most (again i said most before yall try to jump down my throat) of the people who are against buddie are either straight people who don’t understand the nuances of queerness, or queer people who didn’t grow up in environments of oppression and have never felt the need to hide themselves

i used to tell my parents i had crushes on girls only to later realize that it was because i just had a genuine platonic connection with them (two of whom are my best friends and are also queer women) and i used to get confused about what the difference between attraction and admiration was— something a LOT of queer people go through without realizing.

comphet is literally such a widespread phenomenon that people truly don’t realize just how common it is— like even queer people don’t realize they probably know several “straight” people who are still lying to themselves bc sexuality isn’t black and white— it exists on a spectrum. I’m not saying that to invalidate anyone’s straightness, im just saying i know multiple men who are my dads age (60s +) who only recently came to the realization that they were gay.

it’s genuinely so disappointing to see some of the people in this fandom pushing homophobic talking points from history just to disprove a character’s implied queerness bc they view that character’s queerness as a threat to their ship.

anyway, i agree eddie and shannon’s relationship is soooooo unconscious lavender marriage coded to me and there are SO MANY beautiful TS lyrics that apply to that… another song that i really feel like captures Eddie’s pov of the relationship is Home by One Direction… especially these lyrics:

[purplereadingenthusiast]

Queer books I haven’t seen anyone talk about (but are really good)

Teach the Torches to Burn by Caleb Roehrig

This book is the one I’ve read most recently. It is a queer retelling of the classic Romeo and Juliet set in the 1300s with a couple of twists that shape the story into something new and refreshing. While reading it, I could never guess what was going to happen next because I wasn’t sure where it would parallel the original tale of Romeo and Juliet and where it would split off into its own story. It has a gay main character, an mlm relationship, talks about the struggles of being queer in older times and unaccepting spaces, and has multiple queer characters. It also discusses freedom and liberty to live the life you want to live. I would highly recommend reading it if you enjoy queer themes and historical settings!

You Know Me Well by Nina LaCour and David Levithan

This book tells the story of two people who meet and form a deep bond with each other, where through all the trials of their day-to-day lives, they feel like they have someone who finally knows them well. It tells the story of friendship, communication, and having someone to talk to who understands you. To put it short, this book is probably the gayest book I’ve ever read (which is saying something—I read a lot, and mostly queer books). There are maybe one or two characters in the entire book who are straight, and they aren’t directly involved in the main plot. There is a lot of LGBTQ representation, and it’s fairly diverse, with multiple types of queer people and experiences. It’s a coming of age story of sorts, with the main characters figuring out who they are and what they want. I’d definitely recommend giving this book a read!

Candidly Cline by Kathryn Ormsbee

This is another coming-of-age book, with a girl discovering what it’s like to be queer in a town that isn’t particularly accepting. A main theme in the book is Cline, the main character, working hard to achieve what she wants to do in life—music—despite her mother’s wishes otherwise. It has sweet moments of young love, as well as some not-so-sweet moments of homophobia and hatred, but overall this is a book about hope, resilience, and how kindness can change someone’s life for the better.

So This Is Ever After by F.T. Lukens

So This Is Ever After is a fantasy rom-com that explores the unanswered question of what happens after the Chosen One saves the day. The characters are lovable and funny, their relationships with each other well-established, and the banter witty and hilarious. It includes childhood friends to lovers, the classic ‘Chosen One’ trope, and lots of miscommunication (so if you don’t like that trope, I’d suggest skipping this one because it is the main driver of the plot). The main character is probably somewhere under the bi umbrella (although we don’t get any confirmation on this because they don’t use labels) and there are diverse queer characters, including a character who uses they/them pronouns, a character who is suggested to be polyamorous, and numerous other unlabeled queer characters. There are so many moments between Arek and Matt (the main character and his best friend/love interest) that are full of pining and anticipation that it feels like a big sigh of relief when they finally get together. I personally love this book, and to any book lovers of magic and romance, I recommend giving this book a read.

I Think I Love You by Auriane Desombre

This book is a sweet story of two girls who fall in love despite themselves. The main characters are bi and lesbian, and each one talks about their experiences being out of the closet (or not), being queer, and how it causes others to perceive them differently and have expectations about who they’re interested in. They are both a part of a friend group, and the book explores the dynamics of the group together, both with and without the main characters there. It also includes themes of honesty and being yourself, along with knowing who to give your trust to. The main characters have their ups and downs in their relationship, but ultimately it is a story of queer love and pride. I’d recommend this book if you’re looking for a short but sweet story about friendship and love.

Loveless by Alice Oseman (or anything by Alice Oseman, really)

The only people I see talking about this book are people who are aspec, so I’m counting it (also because it’s my favourite book ever). The plot of the book is Georgia, the main character, going on a journey and figuring out she’s aroace (aromantic and asexual—look them up if you need to). It has multiple queer characters and great diversity—the main character is aroace, obviously, and there’s also a lesbian character, a pansexual character, a gay alloace character, and a bisexual aroallo character. The process of Georgia discovering she’s aroace is long and bumpy, but it’s relatable and captures many of the feelings I and many other aroaces have perfectly. It shows how friends are as important as romance, and even more important for someone like Georgia (of course, it isn’t essential for everyone, but it’s an important part of Georgia’s life). All the characters are fleshed out and lovable in their own ways, and their dynamics are easy to adore. I’d DEFINITELY recommend Loveless for any aspecs who haven’t read it yet, and I’d also recommend it to anyone who wants to explore more hidden queer identities such as asexuality and aromanticism.

Never Ever Getting Back Together by Sophie Gonzales

I love this book because it explores the duality of love and hate, and how they aren’t that different in the grand scheme of things. The main characters are both mspec and end up falling in love, and it’s a wlw rivals to lovers situation where they both have opposing perspectives on the same situation. The buildup of their relationship with the struggles it has makes it very satisfying at the end when they get together and work out their issues. It also portrays manipulation in a very realistic way. Overall, I highly recommend this book!

[maxwellatoms]

I don’t know why more people aren’t watching this show, but it’s worth a peek.

This particular episode touches heavily on storyboards and animatics, and while these guys are all talking about feature films, just about everything they’re talking about applies to animation (half of any given superhero film is animation anyway).

Animatics are such an incredible tool that I’m shocked that they aren’t an industry requirement. We literally weren’t allowed to have animatics on Billy & Mandy due to “budgetary restraints”, and since I’d never utilized them before I didn’t realize what I was missing. Now, I basically board right into animatic. If I have a line of dialog for a character, I’ll just temp it in. That way I’m both writing and directing (essentially) at the same time. As I go, I know more-or-less how much time everything is taking, what’s working, and what drags. If I hit ten minutes and I’m still not into Act 3, I know I need to cut something to make room. I can make a version of my movie or show for (essentially) free and share it as a blueprint for others to follow or give feedback on. Why would you NOT do that?

There’s some good stuff in here too about the insane pacing of Television production, the amount of stuff you somehow have to hold in your brain when you’re dealing with all of these moving pieces, and the importance of having a plan for everything. As the director, you’re the only one who is really capable of keeping track of the project from the microscopic to macroscopic scale. Everything from overall tone to the tweak you want to make to line 236 is your responsibility.

I’m not a huge fan of Snyder’s body of work, but Zack Snyder films are Zack Snyder films. His stamp is all over them. The Russos come from a much more Disnified, collaborative background. And lest that sound too noble, the collaboration is all directed toward making a product engineered to be enjoyable. In a very real way, it’s The Auteur vs. The Machine. Listening to this episode, you can tell that no one ever say Zack Snyder down in a room with a bunch of lawyers and research executives to talk about whether or not he was accidentally delivering fascist messages or how many girls aged 8-12 were into Steppenwolf. Whereas that would be Day One at Disney, and every day after would involve some other checks-and-balances meeting, a number of high-level sign-offs, and the upkeep of an intricate company-wide roadmap.

Snyder and the Russos both found themselves making superhero movies for two very different companies in two different very ways. The ways those movies were produced are as much a result of the studio culture as it is the personalities and desires of the directors. As much as Jellystone has reminded me how much I love deep collaboration, methods of production are often not my choice. Depending on the studio, I’ve occasionally felt either overwhelmed by too much “support” or left alone in the woods to die. Neither situation is exactly ideal, but both present their own unique challenges and opportunities. The Machine is efficient, gets things done, and will protect you -- as long as you’re in its good graces. The Auteur is laid bare -- flaws and obsessions on display for anyone to see. Neither Snyder or the Russos go too deep into the studio culture at either studio (oh to be a fly on the wall when the pizza is gone), but is one really superior to the other? Learning to work within the confines of a studio’s culture is a whole different layer on the onion, and I wish they talked about it here.

It’s cool to see that from the simplest cartoon short to the summer blockbuster, the struggles in the entertainment industry are all the same. The pay’s way better on the blockbuster side, though. In case you’re trying to choose.

[writingforcuteppl]

First Kiss

PAIRING: Jean Kirstein x Reader

SUMMARY: Jean doesn’t like people in your school, and the fact that he has a bad reputation helps him to have everyone ignoring and fearing him. But there is one exception, you.

GENRE: Fluff

WARNINGS: swearing, suggestive, corruption kink (if you squint), really innocent reader.

WORD COUNT: 2.5k words

A/N: This was a work that used to be on my side blog. I’m deleting that blog, but I didn’t want some of the writing I had there to disappear.

Jean was a bad guy. Always getting in trouble and having no remorse for anything at all. Being mean and enjoying it was something he did on a daily basis. And because of that, everyone knew he was no person to mess with. You, on the other hand, were the complete opposite of that. Polite, kind, and sweet. Those three words were the ones people always described you with.

You have lived in a little town since you were born. That means you, Jean, and all your classmates have known each other for quite some time now. Ever since you were little, Jean always made sure no one dared to bother you at all. To him, you were a pure person. But, of course, no one knew his feelings and thoughts towards you. He thought you would never accept him because you were the complete opposite. And everyone knew your parents wouldn't let you be friends with someone like him.

But that didn't stop him from watching you from afar. He knew whenever something was bugging you or the little habit of playing with your ring and/or bracelet when you were nervous. He knows that, no matter what, you would do anything to help your friends or anyone who needs you. And he loved your voice. Every time you spoke in class, it was the only moment he would actually pay attention, even if it was only to ask something. He had a soft spot for you.

You were waiting for your health teacher while you were talking to your best friend, Sasha. You saw Jean entering the classroom, and you gave him a little smile and returned to your conversation. His heart stopped. He loved when you smiled at him, even if you two have never actually held a whole conversation.

"What was that?"

"What do you mean?"

"I saw that, and we both know you're not good at lying or hiding stuff. So tell me, what was that?" You always admire the ability of your best friend to be able to see every little action of people that were around her. "You flashed a smile to Jean.”

"Oh, so you're telling me you're capable of seeing that, but you aren't able to see whatever is on the board every class."

"That's different. We both know I pay attention to unimportant stuff or stuff that's more entertaining than anything the school is trying to teach us, and that's why I have you as my friend, so I can copy your notes."

"Very funny"

"So?"

"It was only a smile. You know, being kind to other people won't kill you."

"Yeah, sure, so the fact that you've been crushing on him for the past two years has nothing to do with that."

"Of course not. I smile at everyone," And that was true. You remember your father telling you that a smile can help everyone in so many ways and that a simple smile could make someone's day better. So you always tried to do it.

“No, that smile you always give to people is a kinda, shy/polite smile. The smile you gave Jean was different. You only smile that way when you are simping for fictional characters.”

“So I have different smiles?”

“Yes”

“Why, instead of sorting my smiles, you don’t pay attention in class. Maybe this time, you won’t think you can get pregnant by only being in a jacuzzi with a guy. Please, even me, who doesn’t know anything about ‘that,’ knows that’s impossible.”

“The fact that you can’t say the word sex is really concerning, and in my defense, that only happened two times, and my period was late.”

“Your period is always late.”

“Now you see my problem, and I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t want to be an aunt at a young age, right?”

You only laugh at her comment. You couldn’t believe she was more worried about you being an aunt instead of her being a mother at a young age. Jean heard your laugh, and he only wondered what your best friend told you in order to make you laugh like that.

“Good morning, guys. Please take your seats” Your teacher arrived at the classroom and waited for everyone to be seated in silence. “Today, we are going to talk about something I’m pretty sure you are all familiar with. Sex. And from what I’ve heard from the gossiping you tend to do down the hall, thinking nobody’s listening, some of you really need to pay attention to today’s class” You loved your health teacher. She was really open-minded, and everyone liked that. She has helped you on some occasions with some topics you really quite didn’t understand, and you know she’s pretty easygoing.

“Like you,” you whispered to your best friend, and she only gave you a death glare.

“And you, at least I know some stuff,” you pushed her jokingly.

“So, what do you know about sex? I want only serious answers. I don’t want to know what you do in your free time.”

“It helps us to reproduce.” a girl at the back of the classroom said.

“Exactly,” your teacher started to explain the topic, and you couldn’t stop yourself from blushing every now and then. Still, you took notes about everything your teacher said. Maybe some of the information will help you in the future, but you don't know precisely when.

Jean couldn’t help but notice how hard you started to blush as the class progressed. He didn’t understand why. Such topics should be normal at your age, unless... He was shocked. He knew you were so pure, seeing you confused whenever someone came up with dirty jokes, he always thought you didn’t catch them in the beginning, but now he realized you actually didn’t understand them. His little girl was so innocent that something inside him awakened.

You went to the convenience store near your house to buy some snacks for you and Sasha when somebody bumped into you, making your stuff and their stuff fall to the ground. You and whoever bumped into you bent over to pick up your property when he said

“I’m so sorry, I was distracted, and I wasn’t paying attention” You looked up to see who was talking to you, and your heart started to beat so fast.

“Don’t worry, Jean, it’s ok” You picked up everything that fell from your grip but felt a small box that didn’t belong to you. When you realized what it was, you couldn’t stop yourself from blushing. “Mhm, I think this is yours,” you said while giving him the package of condoms you picked up, avoiding his gaze.

“This isn't mine, Y/n. This is for a friend” he didn’t know why he explained himself to you but was sure he didn’t want you to think he was a fuckboy.

“Jean, you don’t need to explain anything to me, you know?” a small smile appeared on your face. You have always wanted to talk to him, but you knew doing it at school would end up in him ignoring you. Or that’s what you thought.

“Well, I have to go. Nice seeing you, Jean” You started to walk towards the cashier when you felt him grabbing your wrist. This was it, the moment he had dreamt of so many times, how he would talk to you or how he would approach you, was given to him, and this was the only shot he knew he would have. You two alone, no one to criticize him or you. You froze, your heart almost going out of your chest.

“Y/n, do you think we can, you know, hang out sometime?” you felt like screaming on the inside. This has to be a dream. You’ve daydreamed about talking to him so many times that this feels unrealistic. Was he for real? What if this is some kind of joke? He really never talked to you before, but he never really bothered you… You always thought you weren’t that important for him to pay attention to you. But here you were. Something told you that this wasn’t a prank or something like that. You felt you could trust him. So, now being sure you could trust in him, you said.

“Yes, Jean. I would love to hang out sometime with you.”

“Great, that’s amazing” You couldn't tell, but he was so excited you actually said yes to him.

“Why are you so happy?” Sasha asked while you were giving her the snacks you had just bought.

“What?” you didn’t quite catch what Sasha said. Jean was the only thing you could think of after leaving the convenience store.

“Puh-lease, don’t play innocent with me. I know you so well that I can tell how you are feeling before you even know” You laugh at her comment. She really was your soulmate for something.

“Well, I went to the convenience store, and I was ready to go to and pay for everything when suddenly someone bumped into me, and everything I already had on my hands fell, as the same for them, and they were like, I’m sorry I was distracted, and then I realized it was Jean and-”

“Wait, wait, wait, you are kidding, right? OMG OMG OMG OMG, YOU MUST BE KIDDING”

“Wait, there’s more. So he apologized, right? And I accidentally picked up a package of condoms that were his, and he tried to explain himself, telling me those weren’t his, and then I was like, don’t worry, it’s ok, Jean, and I was ready to go when he suddenly grabbed my wrist, and he said: “would you like to hang out sometime?”

“NO FUCKING WAY! And what did you say to him?”

“To be honest, I was first gonna say no because, you know, my insecurities, but then I was like, you only live once, so I said yes!”

“I CAN’T FUCKING BELIEVE YOU FINALLY MADE THE RIGHT DECISION IN YOUR LIFE”

“You are right. Choosing you as my best friend was such a mistake,” you said teasingly, and you both started laughing.

“My baby is finally going to get dick and not anyone’s but her crush’s… I’m so proud” Your eyes went wide with her comment.

“Omg, no one said I was going to sleep with him. Are you nuts?” your face went completely red at the thought of it. You really never think of that, not even in the two years you have had a crush on him.

“Well, we’ll see.”

It has been exactly one month since you and Jean have been hanging out and going out, and you have become closer and closer every day. Of course, it was something you two would keep a secret, well, except for Sasha. No one really knew you were even talking. There were various factors on why you decided to keep it a secret. He really didn’t want you to get in trouble for being his friend. He knew your parents would forbid you from seeing him if they found out you were hanging out with him. And you were scared enough of them to disobey them.

Right now, you are both watching a movie, “Clueless,” and you know it is almost over since you have seen it way too many times to count. Cher and Josh were about to kiss, and even after seeing it so many times, you still couldn't stop getting all giddy about the scene. Jean noticed your reaction.

“What happened? Are you ok? Do you feel well?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Jean, it’s just, you know…” he saw the screen, and he quickly understood.

“The scene? It’s just a kiss, y/n. I’m pretty sure you have already done it, right?” how can you even tell him you never actually kissed someone? “I mean, not that I really want the image of you kissing another guy, but I’m really sure a girl like you has already kissed someone.”

“A girl like me?” he panicked; he really didn’t mean it in a wrong way.

“I mean it in a good way, Y/n. You know, pretty, good-looking, nice, perfect, and much more” You felt butterflies or more like a whole zoo in your stomach. The guy you’ve been crushing for so long told you are pretty. But you knew you had to control yourself. You weren’t with your best friend right now; you were with Jean.

“You think I’m pretty, Jean?”

“Not only do I think it, but you are gorgeous, Y/n,” he said in a low tone for only you to hear, not that there was anyone to listen to it. You remembered his question, can you actually tell him something that only your best friend knew?

“No”

“What?” you caught him off guard.

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” you said, more like whispered. You were so embarrassed since everyone your age has already at least kissed someone. He didn’t say anything. You were pretty sure he was laughing on the inside. How come you have never kissed someone? Even girls younger than you have even a boyfriend or a girlfriend, and here you have never been kissed. A couple of seconds passed, but they felt like minutes. Jean was feeling so many emotions. He was happy because that meant he could actually be your first kiss, confused because how could that be possible? He felt something he couldn’t quite describe well, but the fact that you were so pure... That felt good.

“Can I be your first kiss?” you held your breath. Was he being honest? “Just if you want. You don’t have to”

“Yes,” you both were startled. You couldn’t believe you had actually agreed. Jean wasn’t prepared mentally for your answer, so he just started to slowly approach your face. You could feel his breathing getting closer and closer; he placed his hand on your cheek and took a moment to admire your look. You didn’t realize when you closed your eyes, just waiting for him to touch your lips. But instead, you heard him say, “Are you sure?” Were you? This was your first kiss, something you always have waited for, and here was Jean willing to take that precious thing from you. But you couldn’t be more sure.

“Yes, Jean, please, kiss me.”

Your lips touched. You always heard people say it felt like fireworks. You never really knew what they meant, but it really didn’t feel like it. It was different. Addictive. You didn’t notice you were holding your breath until you sighed. He was touching your cheek delicately, trying to remember the taste of your lips. You felt like melting. He was so gentle. It felt sweet. You moved your lips slowly, trying to copy his actions and trying to remember how they showed it in the movies, but they didn't capture how a first kiss was. He moved away from your face, memorizing every aspect of your face, thinking you were some kind of angel only for him. Still with your eyes closed, trying to save the memory from it, you said.

“That was-”

“Good, really good,” you both smile. Yeah, it was incredible.

n a v i g a t i o n

[ace-touya]

Dabi, and His Parallels to Early Izuku

Weird start. These are two characters who really don’t seem like they’d be foils of each other. (Dabi has a lot of foils, Shoto being the most obvious, but also Izuku, Keigo, Katsuki, Geten and Toga. If anyone wants me to talk about any of the others, I will. I have a lot of thoughts. But back to Izuku.)

The obvious thing is the disability coding - both are disabled. Dabi has a quirk that is incompatible with hid body, Izuku doesn’t have a quirk at all. Their disabilities both result in them being outcasted. For Touya, this is within his family structure, and for Izuku, it’s at middle school.

When Izuku first gets One For All, their situations become even more similar, as they both have quirks that their bodies cannot handle. Also, when Izuku breaks his bones, it’s shown visually by his skin going purple, just like Dabi’s scars. And both of them are similarly self-destructive.

Take this line from Recovery Girl to All Might in the sports festival arc:

“You lit a fire under this child and pushed him too far. Look at what he’s done to make you proud.”

And compare to these Touya quotes:

“You lit this fire under me, dad!”

“After all these years, you’ll be proud to have me as your son!”

Both of those are from the dub, I don’t know if the sub lines are different but its worth pointing out regardless.

Their physical states aren’t the end-all-be-all of their similarities, though. Perhaps more interesting is the similar determination both middle school Izuku and young Touya have to become heroes, despite everyone around them believing those dreams to be futile.

As far as I can tell it’s a pretty common belief among the fanbase that, if not for Enji, Touya wouldn’t have wanted to be a hero in the first place. Rei says something along these lines herself, about thinking he’s looking to impress his father rather than saving people. There’s obviously no denying that this is a big factor in Touya’s ambition, however, he was clearly enthusiastic about heroism before his disability was diagnosed and before he knew that Enji’s love for him was conditional. He was asking to learn ultimate moves at the age of five, he clearly loved training.

(I may also do an analysis on how Touya’s attitude toward his training affected Enji’s treatment of Shoto, if anyone wants that, because once again, I have thoughts)

I don’t think I need to go into Izuku’s ambitions. We all know being a hero is important to him. But the point is that both of them were surrounded by people who were very adamant they wouldn’t achieve these goals - Katsuki and Enji, respectively (the parallels between those two are even more interesting) - and neither of them let those expectations of failure get in their way.

The difference between Izuku and Touya, the thing that makes them foils, is the vastly different lives they had growing up. Izuku says himself to Shoto in the sports festival that their lives are so different. While he grew up idolising heroes, Touya grew up quickly learning how corrupt they were. That’s the thing that changed Touya’s path in life, just as much as wanting Enji’s attention.

He decided that he’d rather tear down the system that hurt him rather than work for it, but the realisation of hero society’s dark side came much later for Izuku, and he still believes in the good that it can do.

We know from things like his fight with Shinso at the sports festival, or with Gentle Criminal and La Brava, that Izuku is incredibly empathetic. I’d love for him to have a moment of understanding Dabi, but from the few manga spoilers I haven’t been able to avoid, I doubt it’ll happen.

[gingerbreadmonsters]

easy pickings

or: it just goes to show, you never can tell!

gn!reader, big big murder and body horror warnings, pure fluffy fantasy but make it gory. get the shotgun - we’re having a wedding! much love to the gang on discord for putting up with my endless rants about how cute these two are - i can’t promise this will make it stop, but it should keep me going for a little while. inspired by ain’t nobody here but us chickens from the musical five guys named moe, and you never can tell by chuck berry. tomorrow, when you say ‘i do’, i’ll die. vega tying the knot in 12,900 words or less.

content warnings: weddings i guess, death and dead bodies, mild injury description (the injury does NOT happen to the reader character), vega does some murders (and warden is definitely into it 👀), HEAVY body horror re: demons changing form, this is CERTAINLY sacrilegious if you like churches, no seriously i mean it, if you are especially christian i suggest that you might want to skip this one because you may very well be offended. this is a story about very bad people doing very bad things. this is a fictional story about people who aren’t real. i don’t condone or encourage this behaviour in real life.

warden’s body is not described at all, and gender-neutral pronouns are used throughout to describe them. for the sake of plot, they do wear a dress and high-heeled shoes, and are referred to with feminine terms (including ‘bride’ and ‘princess’) and a feminine name at some points, but it is made very clear that this is for a plot-relevant disguise - NOT because warden themselves necessarily identifies that way. if those things make you uncomfortable, then please do not feel obligated to read - i won’t be upset! 

this fic contains graphic content that may not be suitable or appropriate for readers under the age of 18. reader discretion is heavily advised. dead dove: do not eat. as always, i encourage you to stop reading at any point if you feel as though you may become uncomfortable or upset. 18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI. thank you.

also, before i forget, the song the organist is playing is mendelssohn’s wedding march, from a midsummer night's dream. that’s not important, it’s just for anyone who was curious. 

series masterlist

main masterlist

Small towns are very exciting, you know.

Well, maybe not for everyone. There’s not too much that happens here. But for you, they’re very interesting indeed.

For the last few months, you’ve been lying low in one of the empty houses on this street. The town is much, much smaller than Dahlia, so it’s been a lot more difficult to stay unnoticed, but you’ve been really trying your best. The people seem nice, but you know better than to let them have a proper conversation with you - you’ve never quite mastered the art of human small talk, and there are a few things about you and Vega that you’re fairly sure they’d rather not know.

(To be honest, you’re not sure if this house had actually been empty when Vega got here, but you’d been out exploring the rest of the town at the time, so you don’t know for sure.)

(You haven’t seen any suspicious bloodstains yet, and you don’t mention it when he comes out of the basement and locks the door behind him, looking suspiciously well-fed. You’re giving him the benefit of the doubt.)

It’s much nicer than the safehouse, which is exciting. Human houses have lots of stuff that you’ve never really seen before, so you’ve been quite enjoying working out what all the different things are. Vega helps you sometimes, when he recognises one of the things you don’t know, but mostly there’s a lot of looking things up on the computer.

You’d been living in Department-funded accommodation before, and although it had been very convenient, you hadn’t really known what sort of things humans normally put in their houses. This one has all kinds of things - like a funny little rug made of bristles that goes outside next to the front door and says WELCOME on it, or a black boxy thing in the living room that lights up when you press the special remote and lets you play computer games on the television screen.

Mm, it’s nice, living in a human house. It’s so big, too! There’s an upstairs and a downstairs that are all part of the same house, and there are so many comfy things to sit on. So far, you’ve tried sitting on all of the beds, the sofa, both of the armchairs in the living room, the beanbag in one of the bedrooms, and most of the chairs at the kitchen table. In your opinion, the sofa is the best one, but you brought the beanbag downstairs to go next to the sofa in case you want some variety.

There used to be pictures in the picture frames, but Vega got rid of them not long after you moved in. He said there was no point in keeping them, because the humans who used to live here are being kept down in the - the, uh-

- um, anyway, they’re gone now, and why would you want pictures in your house of people you don’t even know? Instead, you’ve been taking your own with the camera you found on one of the shelves, and it’s all very exciting.

Taking pictures is easier as you thought it would be, actually. You have to stay very still so that it doesn’t go all blurry, and things always seem to turn out a slightly different colour than they are in real life, but it’s nice that there don’t seem to be any rules about it whatsoever. You can take pictures of whatever you want!

There’s one of the house, and of Vega, and of the view down the street from the upstairs window. You’ve even got a close-up of one of those funny flowers, the kind that keep growing in the front garden and look like little round clouds - you had to hold your breath when you took that one, so that you didn’t accidentally blow all the little white bits away.

You’ve started bringing the little camera everywhere, just in case there’s something interesting to look at. Once, you took it to the supermarket - there’s always quite a few people in there, so you can generally find something tasty to eat - and you spent almost an hour taking pictures of all the different displays. They’re always so brightly coloured, and the fruits and vegetables always look so shiny. It’s very nice.

Life is so different in this little town. There’s so few people, which makes it so quiet. Part of that might be because you’re not working anymore - you help Vega when he asks you, but other than that it sometimes feels like you and Vega are the only people for a hundred million miles. It’s like it’s faster and slower all at the same time. You’re not quite sure how to explain it.

Naturally, you’ve been passing the time by watching daytime television.

It’s so funny! Humans seem to love these shows, and they play them at all hours of the day, every day of the week. They have big glitzy game shows, full of lights and screens, where they ask the contestants about all these bizarre topics - you don’t generally know what they’re talking about, but they’re weirdly fun to watch. And talk shows - they love these programmes where some people just sit around and… talk to each other. That’s all! They just chat and chat about nothing, but it’s so entertaining that you can’t help but keep listening.

The television really is amazing. You can watch sitcoms, which are videos of people in different places reciting jokes while an invisible audience laughs at them, or reality TV, which definitely doesn’t live up to its name. Sometimes you watch sports matches, but it tends to be quite tricky - for some reason, they never explain the rules. You have to search up the rules on the computer, then cross-reference those with whatever’s happening on the screen, and it’s all a bit of a mess. If you’re honest, you’re starting to think that they’re just making it up when they say someone’s ‘offside’.

The most useful ones are probably the soap operas. You have no idea where the name comes from - there’s rarely any soap, and you’ve yet to see any opera singing - but they seem to be a sort of documentary, all about humans. There’s much more drama than you’d imagined, and all sorts of things that humans do that you had no idea about.

Watching these soap operas for the first time, you’d been a bit worried that it was all a bit too unfamiliar. What if one of the neighbours asks you a question about going to a cafe, or baseball players, or laundry techniques? As a precaution, you’ve taken to watching one or two episodes of your favourites every evening, to help you blend in.

That’s how you’d ended up watching that.

What’s the matter, dearest? He’d been upstairs, but you’d felt his magic brushing against your aura all the same.

Hmm? No, it’s nothing.

It’s something, darling, he’d replied, raising an eyebrow. I can feel your longing from here. Did they die in your computer game again?

No, it’s - this one’s just the normal television show thing, you’d explained. He’s normally quite good with these things, but he can never seem to tell the difference between when you’re using the television to play a game or watch a programme. They didn’t die, they just…

He’d come down the stairs and into the room at that, staring curiously at you with your eyes glued to the screen, before realising what you were looking at. Oh.

They look so happy, you’d sighed, watching the human couple on the screen. Don’t you think?

He’d shrugged, slightly too nonchalantly for you to entirely believe him. I suppose, yes.

Humans have such funny ideas about being in love. Tucking your legs to the side to make room for him, you’d let him come around to sit next to you on the sofa. Do they all have to have a big party like this before they can start kissing?

No, darling, he’d explained. This is a human wedding. It’s very special for them.

But… You’d been confused, looking up at him briefly before turning back to the television. I thought they said it was a 'marriage'?

That’s what they call the thing that happens at a wedding, little one. Do you see those two there?

He’d pointed at the couple talking in the middle, and you’d nodded. Yeah. Those are the ones the marriage is for, right?

Correct. Weddings happen so that humans can ‘get married’ to each other, and then they become what humans call a ‘married couple’. ‘Marriage’ is the process that those two humans are going through, and ‘wedding’ is the name for the celebration.

Oh, okay. Once he’d explained it, it made a lot more sense - you’d been under the impression that ‘marriages’ and ‘weddings’ were two separate things altogether. But humans can be together all the time, can’t they? So what are human weddings even for?

I… You’d felt his uncertainty as he tried to come up with an explanation, and it had dawned on you slightly too late that Vega may not be the best person to ask when it comes to matters of the heart. Unless, of course, the matter is that you want it to stop beating.

I’m told it’s a… declaration. Of love.

Like kissing?

Yes, darling, like kissing, he’d laughed. They do that at weddings quite a lot, I believe. It means that they want to be together until they die.

Is that what all kisses mean, for humans? You remember being shocked, when he’d said that. Humans kiss all the time, on the television. Who would have thought that such short-lived creatures as humans would be so nonchalant about dying? Wow. Human courtships are so… intense.

Well, I think that’s what they mean… Vega had trailed off, uncertainty blooming in his aura again as the humans on the television started talking again. Fortunately, I can’t say I have much experience when it comes to kissing humans.

Weren’t they married, though? you’d asked, only to be met with a confused stare. Ivan and the… the other one?

What? He’d been so surprised, even though you’d thought it was a perfectly fair question. No, of course not. That was the whole point.

So you don’t have to be married to kiss someone?

He’d looked down at you, thoroughly puzzled by your entirely rational questions. I kiss you, don’t I? And we’re not married.

Well - yeah, but we’re not humans, you’d shrugged. I thought the rules might be different for them.

Irritatingly, he’d had the gall to laugh when you said that, tail curving around your back to rest around your middle. Do I look like the sort of demon who’s intimately familiar with the rules of human courting behaviour?

You know all kinds of weird stuff, you’d replied, poking him gently in the ribs before giving in and shifting to fully rest your weight against his side. How would I know which things you know and which things you don’t?

I have much better things to remember than the web of intrigue that undoubtedly surrounds the intricacies of human courtship, believe me.

Such as?

Now, that would be telling, he’d said, lips pressing gently against the smooth curve of your horn once - twice - three times, before pulling you more insistently into his lap, leaning back against his chest. Although, I’m sure I can think of something I do know, if you’d prefer.

Something you know… You’d only been half-focused on the screen from that point, watching dreamily as the little pixelated humans exchanged little pixelated rings, smiling as Vega’s fangs dragged sweetly over your neck. Would you say you’re especially familiar with it?

Oh, intimately.

A tiny spark of pain, melting into pleasure as he bit down a little harder, and you hadn’t really paid much attention to the television after that.

(It hadn’t stopped you thinking about it, though.)

In Aria, getting married isn’t really, like, a thing. It’s a very human concept, if you’re honest - humans like to have all these little ceremonies and gatherings for each other. You’ve seen some of them on the television, and you used to hear your old coworkers talking about them sometimes, but you’ve never been invited to anything like that.

There’s so many that it’s hard to keep track of them all, too. You know that you’re supposed to wear black clothes and cry when you go to a ‘funeral’, and that a ‘Valentine’s Day’ means that everything has to be all pink and red, and you have to do lots of kissing and eat lots of chocolates and flowers. Or maybe you’re meant to grow flowers? It all sounds very complicated.

For a while, ‘birthdays’ were your favourite because they always seem to involve some sort of special, tasty cake, but apparently there are lots of other rituals that have cake too…? Like - oh, what are they called again? - ‘housewarmings’? Or was that ‘baby’s showers’? There’s quite a lot to choose from, so you’re sort of in between favourites at the moment.

In any case, demons don’t really have a concept of ‘marriage’. Love, in general, is quite difficult for you to wrap your head around at all - it just doesn’t come quite as naturally to you as it seems to do for humans.

Vega says it’s probably something to do with the way your two species originated - humans had to evolve on their own and needed to stay in big groups to survive, so they had to find a way of keeping each other attached to the group. Demons, created by the Sovereigns, strong with magic and with no natural predators, tend to be much more solitary. You’re not sure if you entirely believe his explanation, but it’s the best you’ve got.

That’s not to say that demons can’t feel love. You can feel just as many things as humans can - and you would argue that you feel some things much more deeply than humans do.

If a human ever felt the way you feel about Vega, you think their body would burst into flame right then and there. Everybody knows that magic is tied inextricably to emotion, and your body is literally made of the stuff, but sometimes you think you might just melt away into nothing, falling apart into your astral form at nothing more than a glance from him.

It’s too much - he’s too much. You were made to know emotions, to grow them and eat them and hold them, but every time it’s like the first. His words in your mind and his hand in yours and his lips on your simulated skin - he turns you into a fizzing, sparking wreck, flooded with love and full of bubbles.

Melting, or maybe overflowing. A human could never understand.

That being said…

Demons might not approach love in the same way as humans do. But, if it were with him, you think it might be nice to try.

Plus, he makes it sound… nice. The next day, you’d gone on the computer and looked up all sorts of information about human weddings. What they mean, where they happen, what people do when they’re there. There were lots of different websites that all said different things, but after a while you got the gist of it.

Vega was right - they’re like big parties with lots of flowers and cake, and it’s all to celebrate two people being in love forever. They wear special clothes so they look all pretty, and make each other special promises to never ever be apart, and give each other special rings so that everybody in the whole world knows that they’re very very in love.

It sounds wonderful.

(It’s a little bit embarrassing to say out loud, but if Vega ever gave you a ring like that, you don’t think you’d ever take it off.)

You’re not brave enough to ask him to his face. What if he says no? Maybe he’ll think it’s all just a stupid human custom, maybe he’ll think it would be an insult to his demonic nature. Maybe he won’t feel the same, maybe he’d never want something like that with you. God, you’d never be able to look him in the eye again if he said that.

Luckily, telepathy comes quite naturally to you two.

Vega?

Yes, dearest? He must pick up on your nervousness from downstairs, and you can feel the ward around the house ripple slightly as he checks it. What’s the matter?

I was thinking about, um… Your hands twist in your lap, claws picking at the fabric of your shirt and tail brushing anxiously over the bedspread behind you. I was thinking about those human marriages again. From that programme last week.

The wedding you showed me? I remember.

Here we go. Did you like it?

Did I… what?

You know, the - the thing they did, you say hesitantly, gesturing vaguely in front of you like he can see you. With the talking and the flowers and stuff.

With the… You don’t even need to see - you can picture the puzzled look on his face as clear as anything. Darling, I’m - I’m not sure what you mean.

He must be able to feel it by now, the way your heart races in your chest as your body tries desperately to catch up with whatever strange, tangled rush of emotions is running through you. Like the thing where they were in the room, the big room with all the people in, when - oh, it - I just - it’s - do you - wait-!

You hear footsteps coming up the stairs and panic, throwing up a haphazard ward across the door in case he tries to come in. It won’t stop him rifting, but hopefully he’ll get the message.

Sweetheart, you-

Just - just forget about it, you mumble, tucking your knees to your chest and curling your tail tightly around your ankle in shame. It was always a stupid idea. It’s fine.

I don’t think it is. Vega’s aura, at the top of the stairs but not coming any closer. I can feel it, little one. What’s got you so worked up, hmm?

Magic bouncing softly against the door, testing the edges of your ward, but you still won’t let him in. Your face burns at the realisation that he really isn’t going to let this go - fuck, now you’ll have to say it…

I want - I thought-

Thank goodness you don’t actually have to form the words physically. Speaking like a human is complicated enough as it is, let alone when it’s about something as awkward as this.

Just… if that was ever something that - that you might… want. For, um - for us.

Silence.

Like, a long silence.

Sitting there, getting more and more nervous, you’re tripping over yourself trying to backpedal. And obviously you don’t have to say anything - it’s kind of a stupid idea, anyway - ‘cause, like, they’re humans and we’re demons and it’s not even that important and it would probably just be a bad idea and we - we wouldn’t - it’s just a silly human custom - it’s not - you’re right, we shouldn’t - it’s only if-

Darling.

A single claw tilts your face up from where it’s buried against your legs, and all of a sudden Vega’s right there, standing in front of you by the side of the bed. He must have - god, he must have rifted in while you were distracted with your rambling - fuck, what’s he going to say…

Little one, is that… You can’t meet his gaze, so caught up in your own swirling storm of agitation that you can’t even begin to tell what he’s feeling.

Is that something you want? With me?

Thoroughly humiliated, you turn your head away, fangs digging painfully into your lip. Oh, can’t he just know? He always knows! Why does he have to make you say it?

Answer me, darling.

Eyes closed, magic burns under your skin as you give the tiniest, tiniest nod.

Yeah.

And now, well…

Now he knows. And now you’re going to have to figure out what the hell you’re going to do when he inevitably starts laughing, because honestly, why would someone like Vega - Vega! - ever in a thousand million years want to marry someone like you? Now, you’ll have to try and fix this, make him forget it ever happened or that you ever even entertained the thought that a demon might want - would want - could want to get married, crush down that horrible, biting, burning feeling in your chest that you know means-

“Mmf-!!”

Suddenly, you’re not on the bed anymore - well, you are, but not sitting up like you were before. A strong arm looped around your waist, his other hand cradling the back of your head as the world blurs around you, and before you can even blink you’re pinned flat on your back by the weight of Vega’s body as he kisses you down into the bed.

This was - you - mmm…

Buried in the warmth and the press and the need of him, it takes your brain a minute to catch up before you timidly kiss him back. What’s he doing?

He’s all you can feel as he clutches you against him, strangely urgent, pulling you up and pushing you down all at once as the mattress creaks quietly beneath you. Stunned fingers twist hesitantly in the sides of his shirt as he licks viciously into your mouth - you’re too surprised to resist the tug of his tail around your thigh, wrapping around and around just above your knee, hitching your leg up over his hip.

It doesn’t make sense. Why’s he doing this? Pity?

He must be trying to let you down gently. And it’s very kind of him, it really is - but the thought makes something small and sad curl up in your stomach somewhere, and it’s with a tiny sigh that your fingers slowly let go of his shirt and you push him back.

Only that doesn’t happen - it’s what you were trying to do, but somehow he doesn't let you go. You jolt in surprise at the frustrated snarl that shudders through him, crushing his chest down to yours, one hand finding your wrists and pinning them up above your head.

Darling, you…

All you have to do is ask, you know that? He sounds breathless, even though he doesn’t need to breathe. You only ever, ever have to ask.

You don’t understand. Partly because he’s doing that thing with his tongue that he knows you like, but mostly because he’s not making any sense. I, uh - what?

Marry me.

His hand slides down from your wrists, claws trailing lightly along your arm, before slipping under your chin to cup your jaw. Marry me, and then you can tell me if you like it or not.

Really? Your eyes fly open, sitting up slightly and breaking the kiss as you beam up at him. You really mean it?

Well, it’s probably not a very traditional proposal, but… He pretends to think, before giving in and kissing you again. I wouldn’t say we’re especially conventional at the best of times.

You can’t stop smiling as he gathers you up in his arms, purring happily into the side of his neck, tail enthusiastically flicking back and forth behind you. Mm, it’s good enough for me.

That’s my warden, he murmurs into your mind, thick with affection. My little romantic.

He heads back downstairs with a promise to talk about it more later - after he leaves the room, you fall back onto the bed with a giddy grin and your tummy full of butterflies. If he can feel your excitement from the living room, he doesn’t mention it.

You’re getting married. Married! You, a demon! Oh, this is much more exciting than Wheel of Fortune.

The next morning, you’re having a glass of apple juice in the kitchen when Vega comes in behind you, bending down to give you a kiss before getting himself a drink as well.

I’ve given it some thought, he says, peering at the various juice cartons you’ve lined up in the fridge. Neither of you need to eat or drink anything, and you could just as easily make it with magic if you did, but it’s all part of the show.

(If television has taught you anything, it’s that everybody’s neighbours are always watching them, all the time. In order to keep up the charade, you make sure to go and bring back shopping from the supermarket once a week, and hang up clothes on the washing line outside when it’s sunny, and water the flowers in the front garden when it hasn’t rained for a while.)

You hum quietly in acknowledgement. How so?

Logistics.

Go on.

How soon were you thinking? He waves a hand at the cabinet on the other side of the room, summoning one of the glasses from the shelf inside, before emerging from the fridge with the carton of cranberry juice in hand.

Taking a sip of your juice, you consider the question - although to be honest, you already know what you want the answer to be. How soon can it be?

Properly? Never. He inclines his head slightly at your raised eyebrow, the picture of resigned disappointment. You forget how few rights demons have here, my love.

Weren’t they trying to make it legal? I thought I saw something about a case going to court a few months ago.

As far as I know, there’s been no verdict yet. And even if there is, who knows how long the Department will drag its feet to make it law? He finishes pouring the juice into his glass, before putting it back on the shelf and closing the fridge door. Besides, that case is about a demon and a human, not two demons. I suspect any attempt to make that legal in Elegy would be thoroughly rejected by a human court, simply on the basis that it’s a demonic affair that has nothing to do with them.

Damn. So not any time soon, then.

Not legally, no.

Annoyed, you take another sip. And illegally?

Well, I did look into it… He trails off with that infuriating grin painted across his face, tail swishing lazily back and forth in a way that you can only describe as supremely self-satisfied. Although I’m terribly offended at the insinuation. Breaking the law? Me?

Vega.

I’m not even sure I’d be capable of such a thing, really. I mean, do I look like a criminal to you? He shakes his head in righteous disapproval, smirking over the top of his glass, and he’s so, so punchable right now. Where on earth did you get that idea from?

Silently, you pull a drinking straw out of thin air, dropping it in your glass and finishing your drink with a long, irritated sluuuuuurp.

He laughs under his breath for a second longer, but relents at your flat, distinctly impatient glare.

Tomorrow.

…Okay, that’s not what you thought he was going to say.

You - you’re not-

Taken aback, it takes you a few seconds to string a reply together. You’d been expecting him to say something like a few weeks, or a month - not a day.

Very funny, you manage, through a smile that hopefully doesn’t look as confused as it feels. You’re joking.

Did it sound like a joke? He lifts the glass to his mouth as he speaks, swallowing another mouthful of juice. I’m serious. Tomorrow.

He doesn’t feel like he’s lying. Which, to be fair, doesn’t actually tell you much - he’s far too good at it for you to ever really know. And - just to make it clear, that’s fine. You’re used to it now. It’s kind of a trust-based thing.

(There’s probably some sort of ethical dynamite in there somewhere, but that’s beside the point.)

(...Look, it’s pragmatic, not foolproof. You’ve been trying not to think about it.)

You have a plan?

He pauses.

Of sorts.

Then tell me. The empty glass is warm as you turn it over and over in your hands. What is it?

His words are slower, decidedly measured as he holds your gaze. It’s not the sort of plan you like.

Why not? This doesn’t sound good. Behind you, the glass clatters against the countertop as you blindly put it down. Vega, why won’t I like it?

He doesn’t answer, slow steps across the kitchen until he’s right in front of you. Close, so close - but he doesn’t touch you, though. It’s weird. Your hands feel too cold.

How do you feel about humans dying?

Ah.

Right, okay. It’s that sort of plan.

I… It takes you a long moment to think about it, but eventually you reply. It depends.

Vega’s eyes narrow, ever so slightly. Just like that, you’re playing the game again. On what?

Do I know them?

He shakes his head. No.

Is it painful?

A little.

You’re intrigued. What did they do?

Nothing. He’s blank, carefully neutral. They’re just… in the way.

You’re not that stupid. In our way, you mean.

Does it bother you? he asks, placing his glass on the counter and reaching down to take your hands gently in his. It’s a distraction, and it works. If I told you that a hundred humans would have to die so that I could marry you tomorrow, would you say yes?

Closing your eyes, you drop your head forward against his shoulder. This isn’t a hypothetical, is it?

He doesn’t flinch, hands still holding yours. Lightly, he kisses the top of your head.

No.

So he really is telling the truth, then.

Objectively, you know what to say. It’s wrong. You know it’s wrong. It’s selfish and callous and a horrible, awful waste of human life. You’d feel terrible - it would be terrible. All those people, just… gone, snatched out of existence in a single, terrifying moment, just because you can’t be bothered to wait for a wedding that doesn’t actually mean anything.

But that’s not true, is it?

Because it does mean something - it means everything. This feeling, this craving, this aching burning starving need that howls inside you. It won’t stop, it can’t be stopped. Curled up and crammed in your chest, throwing itself desperately against the cruel confines of your physical body, and then the very borders of your astral mind.

All day, all night - it just kicks and thrashes and cries out for him him him, for the weight of his arms around your body and the kiss of his thoughts and the shape of his stars on your skin. There’s no controlling this anymore - you know it, can’t stop knowing it. He’s all that matters for you now.

It had been awful, back then. You hadn’t known what to call it. The seed of a feeling, warm and floating and be still, darling, I’m already taking care of it, set aflame and monstrously hungry. Has anyone else ever felt like this before? They must have died like this, they couldn’t possibly have gone on like this, every moment being swallowed up by this screeching, wretched craving.

You’d learnt that humans call it love, but it’s not enough for him. There can’t be words for how this feels.

Yes, it’s wrong. But you’re finally - finally! - figuring out what to call this feeling, finding out how good it feels to let it win, and you can’t just give that up, can you? You don’t know them, and you don’t really care to know. They’re just humans. There are plenty more where they came from.

And anyway, haven’t you had this dilemma before? Vega was right, when he said that human morality didn’t have to mean anything to you. You’re not human, and you don’t have to pretend you are anymore. Watering yourself down for the sake of a handful of humans isn’t worth it.

You deserve to be happy. The rest isn’t your problem.

Then yes. One hand slides up into his hair to pull him down to you, thin, shallow scratch marks trailing behind your fingers, while your other arm locks around his waist. Yes, I want this. And I don’t want to wait.

And just like that, the game becomes a dance.

He bends easily enough to your grip, but the look in his eyes is cold and serious. Humans will die.

You shrug, nonchalant. They’ll die anyway.

We’ll be hunted.

The air is getting thinner. We already are.

You’ll be a murderer.

The walls are getting closer. I already am.

Your impatience will kill them.

Frustrated, you dig your claws in properly this time, fangs bared in a snarl. And your hesitation will kill me.

His hands, warm and heavy on your hips. Apple juice, sweet and sticky and sliding down your throat. The smile breaks across his face, wicked and cruel and ever so handsome, and you know you’ve got him.

Then marry me tomorrow, my little warden, and I’ll kill a thousand humans for you.

You lean up to kiss his cheek, totally content. Only if I get to watch.

You’ll do more than watch, he replies, knocking his horns gently against yours, and you like where this is going. It’s no fun if you don’t get your hands dirty.

If you wanted me to get my hands dirty, you should have just said.

Don’t say things you don’t mean, darling. The coolness of the countertop presses into your back as he leans forward, and your heart flutters as he scrapes his fangs over your neck. You might give me all sorts of ideas.

The rest of the day, once you’ve finished, um, brainstorming, is spent sorting out the finer points of the plan. It turns out he was mostly lying about killing all those humans - technically, you only need two for it to work. That’s how you’re thinking of doing it, although you can always change your mind.

The plan is… actually, it’s not that complicated. Not really.

Everyone on the computer had said that planning one of these weddings would be really difficult and would take ages, but that must be if you’re planning it from scratch. You'd need money, a proper address, some sort of fake human identification, the special clothes and the special room and the special party…

That’s far too much effort, in your opinion. Who even has the time for all that?

Luckily, there’s nothing a little magic can’t fix.

A small town means that there's no Department facilities here, and not really any empowered people here who might be able to spot you - that’s one of the reasons why you came here in the first place. It’s a big relief not to have to worry about all that. Plus, if anyone empowered were to come looking after the fact, this place is so out of the way that any traces of magic would have long-faded.

Thank goodness for that, and for a demon’s natural affinity for unfocused telepathy. Your range isn't quite wide enough, but Vega could probably listen in on half the town from your kitchen window if he tried hard enough.

Ready, my love?

Even from all the way over here, you can see that the churchyard is a flurry of activity. There are humans everywhere, rushing in and out of doors with flowers and ribbons and fairy lights left and right. The whole affair is practically soaked in a strange mixture of stress and excitement, so strong you can taste it from across the road, and you watch as a harried-looking lady with an armful of candles runs into the church like she’s being chased. What on earth…?

Yeah. I think so.

Looking over at your… oh, what’s it called again? Rosé? Is that what you’re meant to call him? Or is it the one that starts with - no, that’s attaché - or the one with the two e’s - no, that’s negligée - oh, whatever the word is, that’s what he is now.

Anyway, he’s very handsome. That’s all you wanted to say.

(Fiancé! That’s the one.)

I believe the one you need should be in one of the rooms over there, Vega says, inclining his head towards one of the buildings next to the church. Do you remember what you’re looking for?

You nod, pleased. A happy lady with a white dress.

(This particular wedding is for a lady and a gentleman, and you’re hoping it won’t be too difficult to find them. All of the men are wearing suits, and you were worried that you wouldn’t be able to tell them apart - Vega’s a bit better at that sort of thing, so he’s off to find the groom. Meanwhile, you’ve got to find the bride, but the fact that she should be the only one wearing a white dress should make your job a bit easier.)

Good. The cloaking magic ripples under his touch as he takes your hand in his, lifting it to his lips and kissing the backs of your fingers. I’ll come and get you when I’m finished, alright?

See you in a bit.

You wave as he walks off, before heading over to the building he’d pointed out. As you pass the front of the churchyard, you have a quick look at what’s going on in there - it’s all still very busy, and two or three of the humans look like they might be about to come to blows over some sort of floral arrangement.

The clothes everyone is wearing are much more interesting than normal. Most are dressed quite smartly, lots of suits and long dresses and sparkly jewellery. Some of the ladies are even wearing big, brightly coloured hats that are perched at such a silly angle, they must be stuck on with magic. How else are they staying on?

Unseen, you phase through the door of the building, following the sounds of chatter through the hallways and up the stairs. There are people wandering back and forth doing all sorts of things - some are carrying trays of little bite-sized snacks, some are laden with flowers, and one or two are running around with cameras like the one you have at home, taking pictures of everything.

It’s quite fun, looking at all the people, sneaking around all invisible like this. It’s like being a secret spy!

The sound gets louder and louder, until you turn the corner and find a gaggle of ladies all hanging around in one of the rooms, chittering away. You’re still cloaked, so they can’t see you - curiously, you walk through the open doorway to see what all the fuss is about.

“Oh my god, don’t turn the air conditioning on! I’m, like, freezing already…”

“Do you have tissues?”

“No, no, you look amazing… Yeah, so pretty…”

“What do you mean, pink? I thought you said it was purple!”

“It’s literally not even that hot!”

“Did you bring flats?”

“I already called - he said they’re coming with her cousin.”

…It’s pretty loud, up close.

There are quite a few people in here - some in all black wielding hair combs and makeup sponges, one stressed-looking one who looks about five seconds away from absolutely clattering someone with her clipboard, and about five or six ladies milling around in matching pink dresses, fiddling with each other’s nails and moving various bunches of flowers from one flat surface to another.

These must be the bridesmaids, which means…

“Did you get my iced coffee already?”

…that must be the bride.

She’s sort of standing in the middle of everything, turning this way and that in front of the big mirror on the far side of the room, being poked and brushed and clipped from seemingly every angle. It looks like they’re just finishing off, though, as she grabs the plastic cup of presumably-coffee with one hand and takes a big sip through the straw, while waving away the person pinning flowers into her hair with the other.

Lady, check. White dress, check. Happy? Well, she gets a big rush of dopamine from the mouthful of coffee, so that’s basically the same thing.

Time’s probably starting to run a little short, if the panicked look on one of the bridesmaid’s faces when she checks her phone is any indication, so you’ll have to make this quick. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, and reach for the bride’s mind.

“I said I wanted - I said - I-”

Unfortunately, you must be out of practice - you manage to grab most of it, but the bit you can’t quite reach starts to panic as she feels herself freeze. You wince at the carpet-burn feeling of friction in her head, her mind desperately thrashing against itself in confusion as it tries to fend you off, but luckily she’s not magical. You’ll have her in another second.

“I want - I said - it’s not-”

She stutters over her sentence as you fight for control, and you swear under your breath as the magic slips out from underneath you again. Why is this woman so resistant?

“Can you just…” She trails off, suddenly tongue-tied, and you curse silently as her mind drops through your fingers again. “I need - I can’t - please, please, I-”

Vega’s good with panic, but you’ve always found it difficult - it’s making her mind all slippery and liquid, shiny and slick and falling out of your hands every time you try to grab it. Gritting your teeth, you make another grab for those last few bits of her consciousness, and-

“I said I’m fine.”

Got her.

“Just leave me alone. I want to be alone right now.”

Her brain screams at you when you make her say it, but she can’t do anything about it. You make her face smile at the lady with the clipboard, who thankfully seems to take the hint and starts herding everyone else out.

After about a minute or so of back-and-forth, the room is finally empty.

Hello.

You’re already in her mind, so you might as well speak there. The cloaking fizzles away to reveal you, standing behind her in the mirror, and if she could move, you’re sure she would have jumped a foot in the air at the sight of you.

How are you?

She doesn’t reply, too full of fear to speak back to you, but it’s okay. You’re just being polite.

Slowly, you walk around her until you’re standing side-by-side - thank goodness it’s quite a big mirror. You smile into the mirror, careful not to get too close in case you accidentally catch her fancy hairstyle on your horns.

Don’t worry. I’ll be quick.

You both watch in the mirror as your body begins to change, thickening in some places and narrowing in others, muscle and fat and bone morphing under the skin as you pour your form into her shape. It starts slow, but gets faster as you get more into it, tweaking the hair texture, the fingernail length, the skin tone, in order to get as close to her appearance as possible.

Your clothes, too, start to change - cotton turns to chiffon as you imitate her dress, and you pay special attention to the complicated details of the lace. It looks very intricate and pretty, and you’d hate to lose it in the transformation process.

Smile, please?

Helplessly, overflowing with fear, she smiles. You bare your fangs as well, paring them down until they’re just like her blunt human teeth, and shortening your tongue slightly until it’s a more conventionally human length.

Thank you. And could you just lift up your dress a little bit?

She’s forced to obey, one hand lifting up the hem of the dress just enough to let you see the shoes she’s wearing. They’re white too, sort of satiny, with a shiny silver embellishment on the front - you wobble a little bit on the high heels as your own shoes suddenly turn into replicas of hers, but it’s not too bad.

You probably have a bouquet, too, don’t y-

A knock at the door. Instinctively, you whip around to face it, claws lengthening and fangs sharp in your mouth as magic builds beneath your palms, until it hits you.

“Is that you in there, my love?”

Of course. Hurriedly, you pull the transformation back into place, smoothing out the creases in your dress from where you’d ruffled it.

You meet the human’s terrified eyes in the mirror, and her brain recoils at the sight of her own face glaring at her. Reply. Now.

“I’m here!”

The door opens, and a human man walks into the room. He’s a little bit taller than you are now, and he’s wearing a grey suit with a blue bow tie and a little cluster of white flowers on the left lapel. You’ve never seen him before, but you know exactly who he is.

The bride’s mind flickers with hope at the sight of her husband-to-be, like he’s come to protect her from you. That hope is short-lived, though - gleefully, you swallow the horror that grips her as the man ignores her entirely and comes to stand behind you instead. It’s so strong, and you gulp down mouthful after mouthful as her body floods with useless adrenaline and her eyes fill with petrified tears.

“Oh, darling,” the man sighs, and the lady’s heart splits in two. “You look lovely.”

Thank him.

“Thank you, I really like it. Thank you, I really like it. Thank you, I really like it.”

The woman speaks at your command, and you mouth along with her until you think you’ve copied her voice correctly. Her accent is a little tricky at first, not quite the same as your usual one, but it doesn’t take long to get a feel for it.

Stop.

She stops, and you clear your new throat with a small cough.

“Thank you. I really like it.”

Vega smiles down at you with his unfamiliar face, and you curl into the right-but-wrong cradle of his arms as easily as ever. At your back, his clothes feel much thicker and heavier than his usual preference, but you take comfort in the lack of heartbeat in his chest, and the way he doesn’t breathe unless he needs to speak. Underneath the mask, he’s still your Vega.

That being said, it is a bit weird. The proportions are all different and it’s throwing you off slightly.

You’re used to looking up a little more - these humans are more similar in height than you and Vega normally are, so it’s weird for him to be so… close? Like, his face is just closer to you, because these new human forms mean he’s not as tall as usual when compared to you.

“Did you have much trouble?” he asks, gently rocking the two of you back and forth. It feels nice.

You shrug. “It was fine. Just had to get back into the swing of it.”

“Mm.” His hands skim over the front of your dress, feeling the different textures of the lace and silk and chiffon that now adorn you. “It’s funny how quickly it comes back to you.”

It’s quite bizarre, being in this body. The weight is distributed differently, and the musculature isn’t yet familiar - you shift your weight from foot to foot, trying to get used to the balance. As you do, the long skirt of the dress follows you, swishing languidly back and forth as the long train weighs it down.

“If you want to dance, we can dance.” Vega tilts his head to look at your awkward swaying, taking your hand and lifting his arm for you to slowly twirl under. “Aren’t you elegant, hm?”

“I’m not sure you know what that word means,” you mutter, turning this way and that in front of the mirror as you try to get used to this new, strange body. “I look all… weird.”

“Nonsense. You look beautiful, darling,” he murmurs, fingers tipping your chin up to look at the two of you in the mirror. Like this, you could almost believe you were looking at a photograph, or a portrait. “My little blushing bride.”

He reaches out and floats something long and white over from the table, before repositioning you slightly further in front of him. Surprised, you watch as he fiddles with your new hair, attaching the object to the back of your head and stepping back to admire his handiwork.

“There.”

You turn, looking over your shoulder in the mirror. A long, gauzy veil floats behind you, trailing down to the floor, and you mentally correct yourself. Not so much a photograph as a storybook - the fairytale prince and princess, starting off on a happily ever after.

On the floor by your feet, a mobile phone buzzes.

Amy (wedding planner): Coming up to get you in 5! Hope you’re ready

“Showtime, I take it?”

You nod, a little disappointed. You were enjoying yourself.

Unfortunately, he takes that as his cue to leave, bending down to kiss your cheek and batting away your hands with a laugh as you try to tug him closer. “Don’t forget your bouquet, my sweet.”

“I won’t, I won’t,” you reply, watching in idle admiration as he heads towards the door. Whoever chose this suit definitely knew what they were doing.

“Then I’ll see you downstairs, my love.” He’s just got one hand on the door handle when-

“Wait!”

He pauses, turning back to you in confusion. “What?”

“You couldn’t just, um…” You gesture vaguely at the lady next to you, still frozen in front of the mirror. “For me?”

“Too messy for you?” He sighs in false disappointment, though you can feel the magic building excitedly beneath his skin already. “I thought you were all for getting your hands dirty, darling.”

You look pointedly down at your nice white dress, and then back at him. He knows he’s much cleaner at this than you are. “I am not cleaning blood off this. I just made it!”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Vega walks back over as you reach down, offering you a steadying arm as you hoist the hem of your dress up a bit with one hand, so you don’t trip over your new shoes. “Say goodbye, dear.”

You wave cheerily at the lady, tottering over to the table and picking up the bouquet. It really is stunning, all white and pink flowers with lots of pretty greenery mixed in. Curiously, you bring it up to your face to see if it smells nice, but it doesn’t really smell of anything at all.

The whole room tastes like terror. She stares at her own face, and you make it smile back.

The train of your dress slides smoothly along the floor behind you with a satisfying swishing sound, and you’re pleasantly surprised at how nice it feels to walk around in. It fits very well on your borrowed body, and it’s more comfortable than you thought it would be.

You can hear someone coming up the stairs - looks like you’d better get going. Apologetically, you give Vega a shrug, but he already knows. It would probably be bad if someone walked in on all this.

“See you in a bit.” You blow him a kiss with the hand not holding the bouquet, shy smile spreading across your face as he catches it and presses it to his lips. “I love you.”

“As I love you, darling.”

The door clicks open, then closed again. The clipboard lady, just rounding the corner, looks relieved to see you, and ushers you down the stairs.

(Behind you, a human man smiles at a human woman. His teeth are much, much sharper than she remembers them to be. Then her body constricts and crushes inwards, dark blood soaking through white silk, and she doesn’t remember anything at all.)

You have to walk quite slowly, still getting used to the shoes, so it’s lucky that you’ve got someone to hold onto. The clipboard lady chatters away as she takes you through the building, out to the sunny churchyard and up to the doors, but you’re not really listening. You’re much too busy floating in the beautiful ambience of it all - the excited nervousness of the bridesmaids, the satisfied anticipation you can feel coming from inside the church.

Everything just looks so pretty, soft pinks and primrose yellows among the sea of white. There’s glitter, and balloons, and gold writing on pastel-coloured bunting. Long swathes of cream-coloured fabric are draped all across the walls and ceiling, and you’re utterly enchanted by the delicate displays of flowers dotted around the room.

Humans have such inventive ways of making things look nice. Maybe you should get some flowers and streamers to decorate the house with.

Belatedly, you realise that you’ve been handed off to some human man, though you don’t know who he is. He looks a bit older than the lady you’re supposed to be, and he feels sort of… sad? But also happy. Nostalgic, maybe? It’s weird.

He fishes around in his pocket for a second, before holding out a little silver disc towards you. What is that? Is it a coin? You take it, and suddenly you realise what it’s meant to be.

It’s a sixpence! Oh, you’ve read about this! Yes, yes, this is a thing that humans do - eagerly, you hitch up your dress and lift your heel slightly out of your shoe, slipping the coin under your foot. The metal is a bit cold, but it quickly warms up, and the man is nice enough to hold your arm to keep you upright as you readjust yourself.

Whoever this man is, it’s very good of him to give it to you. “Thank you!” you say earnestly, giving him a big smile.

For some reason, you feel a little spark of surprise flare inside him when you say that, although he clearly tries not to show it. Do people not say ‘thank you’ when somebody gives them a present? But you’re sure they do - it’s one of the first things in that awful instructional video they make all demons watch when they come to Elegy for the first time. Perhaps he’s just having an off day today.

He opens his mouth, but before he can speak, the music coming from inside the church suddenly gets very loud. All of the bridesmaids seem to have split off into pairs with the men that were milling around here, one lady with one gentleman, and the doors open to let them walk inside.

Is this where you come in? Ooh, you’ve seen this bit on the television! The man who gave you the coin now takes your arm, and the clipboard lady fusses over your dress to make sure the train is laying flat. She also brings the shorter part of the veil over your head, adjusting it so that it falls forwards over your face and down to your waist - fortunately, it doesn’t obscure your vision too much.

(Even if it did, you could just use magic to adjust your eyes slightly so that it didn’t matter, but it’s not that bad. No point in messing around with your disguise right now.)

Magic swirls and fizzes inside you, bursting like fireworks in the dark sky that fills your form. You’re going to marry Vega. You! Marrying him! Today really is like a fairytale, and you don’t even try to hide the lovesick expression that must be all over your face right now.

Somewhere inside, they start playing a familiar song, and the man leads you slowly through the doors. Bouquet in hand, you walk with him, and try not to trip over your long dress.

Everybody in the church is standing up and facing you - suddenly, you’re very glad for the veil. It’s a bit awkward, but you focus on the nice feelings of admiration and happiness drifting through the room, and that makes it better.

Yeah, that’s better. It’s like being part of a play, and all these people are your admiring audience. Today, you get to be the star!

Bright light streaming through the stained glass, lovely music playing as the church organ sings away. At the front of the room, you finally catch sight of Vega - he’s standing next to the altar, and even though his face is different, you’d recognise the beautiful curve of his smile anywhere.

There you are, dearest.

His voice in your head is comfortingly familiar, and as you get closer you can feel the affection in his aura. You give him the tiniest wave, as best you can without making it too obvious, and you have to swallow down the swell of giddy excitement that rushes through you as he waves back.

When you get to the front, there’s some sort of fussing while everyone gets sorted. One of the bridesmaids takes your bouquet, before going to sit down on one of the chairs, and the man in the funny robes next to Vega - the priest? Is that the right one? - tells the man who walked you up here to give you away, or something like that.

It’s a weird thing to say, but the man nods and lets go of your arm, going off to sit down in the front row. One of the bridesmaids stays standing a little bit behind you, and one of the gentlemen stays behind Vega, but as far as you’re concerned, it’s just you and him.

(Most people would say that’s a bad thing. You thoroughly disagree.)

Gently, ever so gently, Vega lifts the veil from your face, letting it fall behind your head once again. As he does it, he blinks deliberately at you with a grin, eyes flicking back to their usual colour for just a second before turning back to their current borrowed blue.

You do the same, keeping a careful grip on the rest of the glamour as it slides back into place. Nobody notices, their human eyes too weak and slow, and the thrill of your shared secret makes your heart feel all warm and fizzy.

There’s a bit more talking from the priest man, during which you take the opportunity to sample a few of the emotions in the room. There are a few sour ones, but they make the nice ones that much sweeter - your mouthful of excitement tastes even better with the swirl of jealousy that runs through it.

He doesn’t say much that’s interesting, but you learn that the lady you’re impersonating is actually called ‘Karla Dillon’, and the man who Vega’s pretending to be is called ‘Justin Bryant’. They’re quite ridiculous names, if you’re honest. Much less sensible than Vega’s or yours, but that’s what you get with humans.

Eventually, the priest turns to you. It’s a little jarring when he calls you by this weird, wrong name, but you don’t let it show.

“Karla, will you have this man to be your husband; to live together with him in the covenant of marriage?” he says to you. “Will you love him, comfort him, honour and keep him, in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, be faithful unto him as long as you both shall live?”

Well, those all sound like good things. You nod enthusiastically, and say “I will.”

He asks Vega the same question, who says the same thing as you. As he says it, you both make eye contact - you can tell you’re both thinking the same thing. If only this human knew just how long you two are going to live.

There’s a bit more talking - you amuse yourself by counting all the petals in the little cluster of flowers that are pinned on Vega’s jacket, and magically making all of the candles flicker in different patterns. He plays along by making them flicker back, and out of the corner of your eye you see one of the men at the back of the room switch one of the standing fans off.

You tune back in just as Vega reaches out, lightly bumping your mind with his own as he softly takes your right hand in both of his. New face, old expression. Looking up at him like this, it’s like there’s nobody else in the world.

“In the name of God, I, Justin, take you, Karla…” He takes a breath, and to anyone else it might look like he’s trying to stop himself from crying. You, however, know that he’s actually trying not to laugh. These names really are silly.

He clears his throat, and tries again. “I take you to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.”

Before he lets go, he presses his thumb lightly over the backs of your fingers, right where he normally kisses your hand. You really have to fight the urge to just grab him and kiss him right now - how dare he be so sweet to you, in front of all these people?

It feels a little off, when you take his hand in return - the shape is all wrong, and his fingers aren’t as long as you’re used to. Even so, you don’t mind. It’s still him, no matter what form he takes.

The words are a little difficult to remember, but you do your best. “In the name of God, I, Karla, take you, Justin, to be my husband. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.”

It’s disappointing when you have to let go - it feels cold, and you’d much rather keep holding his hand. He must feel your disappointment, though, nudging a pulse of encouragement into your consciousness, and it does help a bit.

Luckily, you don’t have to let go for very long. The man behind Vega comes over and offers him a little square, embroidered cushion, with two rings sitting on top. One is quite plain, just a smooth, shiny gold band, while the other has a big, teardrop-shaped diamond in the middle - Vega picks up the one with the diamond, and reaches for your hand again.

“I give you this ring as a symbol of my love, with all that I am, and all that I have.”

He says it in your mind, as well as out loud, and the feeling of his real voice in your head is almost enough to have you bursting into tears right then and there. The slight disturbance in the air where his horns are hidden shudders slightly, a reassuring reminder, and you blink away the tears as you watch him slide the ring onto your finger.

The man then comes to you, offering the cushion, and you reach out to take the other ring. Your hands tremble slightly with nervous excitement as you slip it on Vega’s finger, and you’re sure you can’t quite hide the possessiveness in your voice as you speak - both in his head and with your human mouth.

You definitely remember the words for this part. “I give you this ring as a symbol of my love, with all that I am, and all that I have.”

Vega smiles. Suddenly, you’re reminded of something he said the other day.

Have you ever seen a wedding ring before?

It had been dark, late at night in bed, and you’d just been falling asleep when he’d asked you. Sleepily, you’d turned to face him, but the blackout curtains always make it too dark to really see anything.

I think so. One of your old coworkers had shown you, once - a flat little gold band around his finger. I heard it was like a kind of courting gift.

Something like that. As I understand it, the ring is less of a present, and more… more of a promise, I suppose. Or a reminder.

You remember thinking that it was an unusual thing to say. Are humans really that stupid? Why do they have to wear a special ring to remind them that they’re in love? Shouldn’t they just… know?

Humans are always making things more complicated than they need to be, little one. I thought that was obvious.

So what makes these kinds of rings special? Are they magical?

No, there’s no magic, he’d replied, shaking his head. Unempowered humans can have weddings too.

Frustrated, you’d let your head drop heavy on the pillow. Then what’s the point?

I suppose there isn’t one, he’d said, thoughtful. Humans like all sorts of odd things.

He hadn’t said anything for a long time, and you’re still not sure if the next thing he’d said had been real, or just something your tired mind had dreamt up. Maybe we’ll just have to find out for ourselves.

New weight on your finger, new light in your heart. He’s yours. Now, you think you might understand why humans like these little rings so much.

There’s a little more talking, including a slightly weird part where the two of you have to kneel down while the priest does a sort of short speech over your heads. Vaguely, you remember Vega saying it’s meant to be some sort of blessing, but you aren’t actually paying attention. Instead, you let the words just wash over you, the joyful tide rushing over the sand, and you don’t let go of his hand this time.

When the speech is over, Vega helps you stand - you respond with a grateful pulse of affection in his mind. These blasted shoes are really starting to hurt now, and there’s so much material with all this dress and veil stuff that you have to steady yourself with some subtle psychokinesis to stop you tripping and falling flat on your face. Thank goodness you’ve got him here to keep you upright!

Thankfully, the priest waits until you’re both steady on your feet to speak, and you’re very glad he does. This is the bit you've been looking forward to most of all.

“Karla and Justin,” he says with a smile, “having witnessed your vows of love to one another, it is my joy to present you to all gathered here as husband and wife.”

The candles flicker. In the corner of your eye, a lady in the front row dabs at her eye with a tissue.

“You may kiss.”

A human hand cradles the back of your head, slips around your waist, leans you backwards into a picture-perfect dip. A human face smiles down at you, eyes bright with the thrill of new love. A human man leans down to kiss his bride, sweetly and softly, on the happiest day of his life.

“Shall we, darling?”

You smile, and it’s all teeth. “Of course.”

The glamour splitting, splintering, crumbling to dust. It's no human who holds you now. A woman screams in the second row as the facade falls away, and Vega's horns click gently against yours as he finally kisses you.

Vaguely, you're aware of the thick layer of paralysis magic that condenses in the room, locking the humans in place before they can do anything, but you don’t really pay it any mind. You’re far too focused on the warmth of Vega’s tail tangling with yours under your dress, the sting of sharp fangs dragging over your lip as his tongue dips down into your mouth.

I love you.

The air tastes like frantic, screeching terror. And I love you.

Sliding your fingers into his hair, you press yourself as close to him as you can. The relief of reverting to your demonic form is wonderful, the illusion sliding off your skin like thick oil, and you couldn’t beat back your smile if you wanted to.

My darling, he whispers into your mind, just where he ought to be. A match made in heaven, wouldn’t you say?

As he says it, he gently brings you back upright, though he doesn’t let you go. Gleefully, you relax into his arms, looking around at the room full of horrified faces. A few of them have fainted, falling limp against the paralysis that keeps them in their seats - others try to struggle out of it, but to no avail.

Oh, definitely. You look down at the ring on your finger, watching the diamond sparkle in the light - now that you look more closely, you can see that the big one in the middle is surrounded with lots of little diamonds that sparkle in the light. It’s so, so beautiful.

He holds his hand out next to yours, and you can see him magically adjusting the size of his ring so that it fits him properly. It’s a good idea. You do the same with yours - while you’re at it, you also replace those awful shoes with something a bit more comfortable. There’s a notable jolt as they disappear and you suddenly get several inches shorter, but your feet definitely thank you for it.

Once your clothes fit you again, it feels much better. Indulgently, you rest your head on Vega’s shoulder and look around. Most of the humans seem to be in some stage of panic, but some are remarkably calm. Maybe it’s just that it hasn’t quite hit them yet.

Did you want that back, dear?

Vega points towards the bridesmaid who was standing behind you - oh, your bouquet! Gratefully, you tug it free of her frozen hands with a tendril of magic, and float it over to you.

It’s very pretty, but now that you think about it, perhaps this could be a little more to your taste. With a wave of your hand, all of the candles in the room flare, and Vega watches curiously as white roses turn to deep pink peonies.

That’s better, you declare happily. Now it’s special to us, instead of them.

He doesn’t say anything, just kisses your temple, but you know what he means. You can feel it.

A quiet sniffling sound catches your attention, and you glance over to see where it’s coming from. It’s the lady in the front row from earlier, the one who had the tissue. She must have dropped it when the magic reached her - her face streams with fearful tears, but she can’t bend down to reach the packet lying on the floor by her feet.

It makes you feel a bit bad for her, so you untangle yourself from Vega’s arms and walk over to her. Slowly, as not to startle her, you bend down and pick the little packet up.

Don’t worry, miss. I’ll be quick.

You take a tissue out of the plastic, and dab the tears from her face as gently you can. Her makeup is running a bit, but you try to salvage what little is left, and wipe away the streaks of mascara that run down her cheeks. Did you enjoy the ceremony?

For some reason, your efforts only seem to make her cry harder, chest stuttering and spasming as her body sobs as much as the magic will let it. Soon, your tissue is absolutely soaked through, and you have to dissolve it between your fingers.

Oh, miss. Please don’t cry - it’s okay…

You look back over at Vega, who’s currently inspecting the decorations on the altar, but he just shrugs. He doesn’t seem to know what to do either.

Here, I can make it - I’ll make it stop.

Carefully, you reach into her mind and pull. With a jolt, the crying suddenly stops, and her eyes glaze over as her memory fades - you fill the empty space of the last few hours with peaceful mist, and slowly guide her down into her chair.

Sleep well, miss.

She couldn’t reply, even if she wanted to. She’s already asleep.

Vega, should we…? You wave your hand at the sleeping lady, and then gesture to the rest of the room. It would be weird if she was the only one.

If that’s what you’d like, he says. Faintly, you feel a little flicker of disappointment that you haven’t gone with the other plan, but he hides it well. Come on, we’ll do it together.

(Look, it’s not that the other plan didn’t sound fun. It’s just that you’ve already done a murder today, and killing all these people seems a bit greedy. Plus, it would mean cleaning all the blood out of the chairs, and that’s really not a headache you need today.)

The haze of paralytic magic suddenly gets thicker, swirling through the room like heavy fog, and you pour as much magic as you can into it to get it to stick. Slowly, it dilutes into sleeping magic, and the humans all begin to slump back down into their chairs or onto the floor.

Do you want a specific memory? Vega takes your hand and leads you back up to the altar, so you can see the whole room. Or just a gap?

You deliberate for a second. Just a gap, I think. They should be able to come up with an explanation.

He nods. Then they’re all yours, dear.

There’s quite a lot of humans here, so you have to concentrate quite hard. Gradually, you help the fog to ease the memories of today out of their heads, replacing them with the same swirling mist that you gave the crying lady, and making sure none of them remember you or Vega were ever here.

Human minds are very resilient, and they love making up explanations for things they can’t explain. Once they realise the humans you replaced are gone, you’re sure they’ll come up with an acceptable story sooner or later. They’ll be fine.

Finished. With a sigh of relief, you step back and let the magic dissipate. Should we get going, then?

Your hand moves to start opening a rift, but Vega’s faster, catching your wrist before you can get there.

Mm… Not quite finished.

Somewhere else in the room, there’s a burst of magic - you watch in bewilderment as the organist wakes from her sleep, and dazedly pulls herself up onto her seat. What?

You’re forgetting something, love.

All around you, music starts to play - oh, it’s that song! The famous one! From the one you saw on the television, the one that he watched with you! Vega offers you his arm, and you have to wipe away the happy tears that seem to have appeared in your eyes all of a sudden.

Oh, Vega… The tears don’t go away, and you sob into his shirt as he holds you, long peony stems dangling loose between your fingers. You didn’t have to!

Of course I did, my darling, he laughs quietly, kissing the top of your head between your horns as his hand smooths comforting circles over your back. Of course I did.

He offers you his arm, and you take it with a teary smile. The lovely music echoes from the high ceiling as the organ sings, and you hum along in your head as you walk back down the aisle.

None of the humans are awake to see it, but it doesn’t matter - you materialise a playful burst of shiny confetti just over Vega’s head, giggling as it rains down over him and sticks in his hair.

You-!

He gives you a mock glare, and replies with a retaliatory burst of flower petals over your own head. Then another, then another, until you’re both laughing too hard to concentrate - behind you, the aisle is buried under a trail of confetti and flowers as you practically chase each other towards the doors.

Oh, I don’t think so - there!

You’re too slow to dodge his hand around your waist - he scoops up your squirming form like it’s nothing, dress and veil so long that they still brush along the floor as he carries you in his arms. Got you, little troublemaker.

You try to wriggle free, but he’s too strong - resigned to your fate, you just settle for throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him down for a deep, happy kiss. Is that a promise, husband?

With all that I am, and all that I have, he dutifully recites, tail slipping beneath your dress and coiling possessively around your ankle. I won’t ever let you go.

It’s all you could ever want. Behind you, a room full of humans sleeps unaware, and the organist plays you out as Vega carries you carefully out into the churchyard. The sun is shining high in the sky, and your veil flutters behind you in the summer breeze.

So, darling, he asks over the music. Do you like it, then?

The happiest day of your life. Looking up at Vega, covered in confetti and laughing in the sunlight, you think you finally understand.

Yes, you say. I do.

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[merp-blerp]

So… Rachel Zegler and Snow White… (My Thoughts)

(This is a long ass post, but I wanted to make myself clear)

Disclaimer: I just wanted to express my opinions on the controversy, as the Disney princesses, fairytales/folklore, and their influence on kids and adults is very important to me as someone who grew up with them and wants future generations to as well in the best way possible. My opinions are mine, so I can only speak for myself and my experience with girl-boss-feminism and other related topics. It’s okay if you feel differently and have different experiences than me. I’m not trying to tell anyone how they “should” feel. Just express yourself civilly and do not harass anyone, please.

Opinions under the cut ↓

If you don’t know the situation, in short, Rachel Zegler, who is cast to play Snow White in Disney’s remake of the animated film has made some statements on the original that have angered fans. Some of these statements include: “I just mean that it’s no longer 1937. We absolutely wrote a Snow White that ... she’s not going to be saved by the prince, and she’s not going to be dreaming about true love…” and “There’s a big emphasis on her love story, with a guy who literally stalks her. Ha, ha—weird! Weird! So we didn’t do that this time!” and “Cast a guy in the movie, Andrew Burnap, great dude. All of Andrew’s scenes could get cut—who knows! It’s Hollywood, Baby!”

I recommend watching the clips of her in these interviews. I can’t possibly give every controversial quote here.

Let me state right out of the gate that I have no issue with a WOC playing Snow at all, as a WOC myself. I’m not here to say she can’t. Yes, the fairytale traditionally states that she’s named after her white skin, but this is an adaptation and things can change in adaptations; they could easily change the reason for her namesake, like maybe she was simply born around winter. Outside of her name, Snow being white doesn’t have much bearing on the story. Even if you want to pull the historical accuracy card, fairytales aren’t meant to be history lessons like that. They’re fantasy, where any kind of reality is possible. Last I checked queens owning literal magic mirrors wasn’t very historically accurate to any place at any time. And of course there are other countries where people of ethnicities other than European ruled.

I also don’t enforce hate or harassment to Zegler for any reason. Just fair, constructive, criticism. I think she’s misguided, and I want to unravel that in this post, but I don’t hate her. I don’t suspect she’s sexist, just mistaken.

The issue many are having with these statements is that Zegler not only comes off as ungrateful to some, but that she disrespects and misrepresents the original movie. I personally don’t agree with her statements. There was nothing wrong with Snow being saved by the prince and he was definitely not stalking her. They had one conversion at the beginning of the film, he exits the film for most of it’s run time, with Snow barely mentioning him outside of the two scenes where she sings “Someday My Prince will Come”, and then he comes back at the end of the film once he hears of her death and kisses her goodbye when he thought she died, only for her to wake up; then she goes to live with him in his (likely metaphorical) castle in the sky on horse back (live with, not marry him, we never actually see them marry if they do). Due to sexism, AFAB people are often shamed for enjoying feminine types of media and activities , such as romance and princesses, so this has led to the “girl-boss” or “not like other girls (NLOG)” mentality in some AFAB people, causing an often aggressive rejection of femininity. This also led to the “Strong Female Character(s)” trope, which often preaches rhetoric similar to Zegler’s statements. Though I’ll of course never know, I suspect this rhetoric could be what’s going on with Zegler to some capacity. She’s somewhat around my age (Zegler’s 22, I’m currently 19, I’ll be 20 in Dec. 2023), so she and I grew up right when this girl-boss rhetoric was becoming popular. Snow is a very traditionally feminine character, so maybe that has made Zegler feel negative towards the character. Maybe—I’m not a Jiminy Cricket inside her head. There’s nothing wrong with wanting a man, you just shouldn’t be co-dependent on one, and Snow was not; as mentioned before, she spends most of the film getting along without him. Snow’s prince, along with most princes from this era of Disney, are more symbols of freedom rather than actual characters by todays standards; this is reflected in the fact they don’t even have names, apart from Prince Philip, who is more of a character. And of course Snow wants love, she has an abusive step-mother, with her biological mother and father out of the picture; the dwarfs and prince (and maybe the huntsman—if you count him) were her only true company. Her only source of love and kindness. I personally see Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs as a story of survival. Snow’s vulnerable, being a princess who’s likely only ever lived in castle walls, and she’s been mistreated by a woman who was supposed to mother her, to the point of her having to run away to live on the woods for safety on a whim (as well as maybe due to her age if you believe she’s 14 years old, but Disney has never confirmed this odd internet rumor, so I don’t personally believe she’s 14—nor her prince being in his 30s—no clue where that comes from). But she adapted by coping with her fear and pain by calming herself by singing and finding refuge in her found family of the dwarfs and animals. She found the love she lacked in her life though the dwarfs and the prince. That’s strength if I’ve ever heard of it! She doesn’t need to be a “Strong Female Character” type to be strong. It’s sexist to imply that femininity equates to weakness. The new Snow White can be strong, but so is the original in her own beautiful way, as well as the other subsequent Disney princesses after her. I find that people who tend to have these sexist takes on the Disney princesses, especially the original three (Snow White, Cinderella, and Aurora), tend to have not seen their films much if at all, and/or have only watched them passively, not truly computing the story because they feel like they know every beat from memory or cultural osmosis. Zegler has admitted to having only watched the film once when she was a little kid, being scared of it, and then only recently watching the film a second time after being cast for the remake.

She also seems to disregard the original film’s importance in history. Snow White as a character was seen as a beacon of hope during war times and the Great Depression. It was one of the first, if not the first feature-length animated film ever. And so much more! There Will Be Fudd has a great video essay on the importance of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs as a film and also expanded on this topic I’m discussing here (I don’t claim any of this as a purely original opinion, I know many also view Disney Princesses this way, just throughing my own personal tidbit to the conversation). I think Zegler had failed to consider how she subtly insulted women who are more traditionally feminine by speaking of Snow this way, as well as people who enjoy this movie. I know that girl-boss-feminism made me feel really bad about myself as a kid who was naturally a bit more of a classic Disney princesses type of person rather than a kin to the newer Disney princesses that were coming out at the time, like Rapunzel or Anna. I just wasn’t super spunky or outgoing like them (not that they are bad at all—I love them). The Disney princesses have so much variety between them, so any kid is bound to relate to at least one of them a little bit; I should’ve been able to relate to Cinderella or Snow without shame, but the girl-boss rhetoric told me that they were bad and therefore I subconsciously thought I was too since I saw myself in them more. I attempted to force the more feminine traits away from myself and kind of become a blank slate, till i realized in my late teens that I didn’t know who I was. I’m still in the process of reclaiming myself from that phase of my life, trying to remember who I am. I’m not saying every personal issue I have was birthed from girl-boss rhetoric, but it did have an effect early on, and I don’t want anymore people to feel this way. I think Zegler’s statements can be harmful. Girl-boss-feminism is not what people need anymore if it was ever needed at all. We should let every person of every gender live as feminine or as masculine as they please, as long as no one’s harmed. Femininity is beautiful. Masculinity is beautiful. Just don’t be toxic.

Another thing I wanted to mention that I’m surprised I haven’t seen anyone else bring up: the way she spoke about Andrew Burnap, her co-star playing the prince (EDIT: Apparently he’s actually playing a character replacing the prince… okay I guess…?), in one of the quotes I mentioned above, which was pretty bad. Another thing this kind of pseudo-feminism can enforce is putting down men because women are “superior” in someway, because they’re girl-bosses, all in the name of “feminism”. Burnap is just as worthy of having his work get displayed on screen as Zegler is. It would be really unfair if all he’s scenes were cut. It’s very… strange at best that she said that. I don’t think people are in the wrong for being upset at her words and I don’t think people are getting mad at her “over nothing”. It’s something.

[EDIT: I wanted to acknowledge that I am currently aware, and also was when I made this post originally, that other live action Disney Princesses cast members have said similar things akin to Rachel Zegler’s statements before. The reason why I didn’t initially mention it in this post was because I didn’t think it mattered to Zegler’s controversy as it had to do with other films, but after some thinking, I realized it does add some context and it could be debated in this conversation. I also don’t care for those statements for very similar reasons I don’t care for Zegler’s. I think the reason why Zegler’s words are being so scrutinized in comparison to the others is because 1) the pop-feminism movement as a whole being scrutinized in some aspects is something that’s happening only very recently, in the very late 2010s and early 2020s so far. It seemed like this girl-boss stuff really began to be condemned hard around when Mulan (2020) came out, which in part caused that film to flop. Zegler is only the third live action princess to have a film come out in the 2020s, if I’m correct. These ideals weren’t being so criticized when say, Lily James, made her statement(s?) on my favorite princess Cinderella in 2015. Zegler’s just happened to make her comments at the worst time. 2) It could also be the way Zegler’s said her comments. It’s not just the words but the way she said them that rubbed people the wrong way, and maybe that’s not fair, as tone can be very hard to fully decipher in a true way and sometimes your tone doesn’t match how you feel. I don’t agree with the idea that “Rachel HATES Snow White” as some have said, but I see how people think she does based on the really taunting tone of the viral clips, but a few clips don’t paint a full story; she probably doesn’t hate Snow White. 3) It might be racism for some people. A lot of people are upset to see Snow White being played by a WOC, especially since in the standard version of the story it was stated specifically that Snow was white, unlike, for comparison, the The Little Mermaid where Hans Christian Anderson never stated what race the mermaid was. Evil people want to be racist, but not called out as racist, so Zegler’s outdated sentiments gave a very easy scapegoat for hating her and her casting without being overtly racist. If Halle Bailey said something similar to Zegler she might’ve experienced the same hate train as Zegler is, not just because it's a sexist view, but because people also hated seeing her play Ariel as a black woman and wanted to do so openly, but couldn't without showing they're racist and being called out. Not saying every person criticizing Zegler is racist, however. 4) It’s the newest remake and people hate those. I don't think the concept of remaking films is bad at all, as if you don't keep telling stories they die. Many of the fairytales that Disney has adapted like Cinderella, Aladdin, Snow White and more wouldn't have existed in any way if people didn't tell them over and over in different countries and time periods till they were written down over and over. Remaking them over and over is a modern option to do that. Everyone has the right to remake Beauty and the Beast, The Wizard of Oz, etc. if they want to because that’s how stories stay alive for generations to come (and because versions of those particular stories I mention are in the public domain). But the reason Disney’s remaking their films at the moment doesn’t seem to be so they can bring something new to the stories or showcase it to a new generation, but to make money, as a lot of these films have been making bank for some unholy reason. That's why so many of them fall short quality-wise. This is really an overall problem with Hollywood right now and Disney is arguably of how the biggest perpetrators of the issue. We are all overexposed to these low-quality remakes to the point where a lot of people hate the concept of them at all, calling them “unnecessary”, but I personally think this is a bit too pessimistic. The idea of remakes isn't bad, the executions of them are.]

There was also some controversy on the fact that they cut the seven dwarfs from the film; the remake is actually simply called Snow White, not Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs like the original. This was done (allegedly?) to not offend little people. They will be replaced by some magic creatures. Now, I am not a little person, so I can’t decide what’s offensive to little people, but I can repeat what I’ve heard from some little people online who’ve spoken on the topic; I recommend looking up more testimonials from them if you want more opinions from little people. It is very odd that, in order to not offended little people, Disney excluded them from one of the few roles Hollywood would allow them to play. It would’ve been better if they evolved the dwarfs from being mostly comic reliefs to being characters who were treated more like characters, along with hiring actually little people actors and having little people writers in the writers’ room. That is all I’ll say on this topic to the reasons I mentioned before.

It’s worth noting that Zegler has addressed the situation (yes, that link to an ET TikTok vid is the best place I could find it—I guess it’s the original source? If I find a better video I’ll change the link) and I don’t really know how to take it. (EDIT: I've been notified by an anon that this video was actually a response to something else; If so, sorry for the incorrect info. My feelings forward still stand when it comes to the idea of pardoning her actions.) While I understand she’s young and was pushed into notoriety very quickly, I feel like, specifically when it comes to her comments about Burnap, she should know better. You should know at age 22 that comments like that aren’t seen as very appropriate. I suspect Zegler wanted to come off as a down-to-earth and playful, cool girl, and assumed that the girl-boss takes on the Disney princesses from the 2010’s were still popular, not realizing that they’re more often condemned rather than uplifted, and rightfully so. All I know is that will likely be hard for Zegler to come back from this behavior. The internet is pretty hard on people who they see as “mean girls” and other phrases like that, sometimes to a really unwarranted level that leads to things like doxxing and death threats. Zegler doesn’t deserve treatment like that, but she does deserve constructive criticism, as does everyone when they do something that’s arguably wrong.

It’s statements like Zegler’s that are making me somewhat worn-down on Disney, or rather Disney-corporate, as I feel that this pseudo-feminism they’ve sprinkled in some of their modern films has been a problem for a while now. In highsight, I feel like in the early 2010’s Disney could’ve been on their way to another renaissance, with hits like Tangled, Frozen, and Wreck-it Ralph, plus adult interest in Disney sky-rocketing with social media. But the remakes got in the way of that. It doesn’t come off as Disney wanting to retell stories in a new way, but as Disney, due to the cynical takes on their past works from the 2010’s, trying to fix what wasn’t really broken out of almost shame. Like they want to prove a Buzzfead article from 2014 wrong rather than make a good story. They don’t seem to understand that this line of thinking is dangerous and sexist in and of itself. This isn’t an improvement, but a downgrade. You’re supposed to make characters, not walking, talking political statements; you can totally make political statements in film—they’ve always had them—but you need to do it carefully because they’re important topics, especially when you’re including it in media made for a general audience, as it could be someone’s first exposure to the topic and you want it to be correctly done. And you need to make the characters who make or represent these political statements well-rounded or you end up coming off as still offensive, but in a different way. Think about all the Disney original concepts for animated movies based on older fairytales such as Gigantic, Newt, or Hiawatha that were canned, with these often try-hard-y remakes in there places (I know Hiawatha was cancelled decades ago, but I still would’ve preferred Disney revive that in a more culturally sensitive time rather than what they’re doing). With the exception of Cinderella (2015) and maybe The Little Mermaid (2023), I feel like all the remakes are just Disney’s attempt at besting critics who either lacked media literacy or were just critiquing for shits and giggles. Other than the exceptions I mentioned, they all range from not awful but meh (like the 2016 The Jungle Book), to insultingly bad or bland (like the 2020 Mulan or the 2019 The Lion King). Even though this film is still in development and I know I can’t/shouldn’t truly have an opinion on it’s quality yet, I fear it’ll be more a kin to Amazon’s Cinderella rather than a good film. Amazon’s Cinderella had many of the issues with pseudo-feminism Zegler’s statements had. I don’t think this movie will be very good if Zegler’s sentiments reflect how the film’s themes will be. Hopefully I’m wrong, but I’m admittedly not too optimistic.

I don’t think it’s wrong that people care this strongly about Disney and the quality of their films. I’ve seen people ask “Well, when did people start caring about Snow White?” And my answer is that people have always cared, this situation is just making people speak up about it. That’s normal. And saying “It’s just a movie” negates it’s importance to the history of film, not just animation, and it’s role in the lives of people who enjoy it. It might not be important to you, and that’s okay, but it is to other people and you should respect that.

Well, I think that covers my thoughts, If you’re still here, thank you for getting this far. I appreciate that you seemingly care about my opinion that much. I just wanted to get these thoughts off my chest.

[scarlettriot]

❄️ Sweet Dreams, Marquie ❄️

• Pairing: Kirishima & Marquie @kweenkatsuki & Bakugo

• Warnings: SMUT | Minors & Ageless Blogs DNI. Aged Up Characters ((late 20s)), Swearing.

• Contains: Oral ((M&F Receiving)), Double Penetration, Size Kink ((if you squint)), Praise, Loads o' Fluff. Nicknames Used: Puffs, Your Highness, Sunshine, Baby Girl, Baby.

• A/N: This fic is a part of my Winter Writing Event, specially written for @/kweenkatsuki! Marquie, my love! Thank you so much for participating in the event! I really hope you love your Holi-Date with Eiji & Katsu. The event is still going to remain open until 1/20, if you would like to partake!

• Word Count: 2,000ish

“I hate you guys so damn much,” Katsuki grumbled while you pulled the zipper up on his jacket. 

“No, you don’t.” You and Eijiro both chirped at the same time. 

He didn’t. He didn’t hate either of you at all. You were the loves of his life. But he really, really hated the idea of driving around your damn neighborhood in the dark just to look at some twinkling holiday lights! At least you weren’t asking him to walk. He would’ve absolutely refused had that been the case!

You finished with his jacket and tucked his favorite All Might scarf around his neck while Eijiro handed him a steaming thermos of cider, and for you, your favorite coffee just to make sure you’d stay nice and warm on the ride around. The redhead even offered to drive, “Hell no. You’re gonna get distracted, and then we’re gonna be out for hours. I’m driving.” 

Of course, it didn’t take Katsuki long to get distracted on the drive either. The way the lights looked reflected in yours and Eijiro’s eyes made his heart swell, and the smiles on your faces were contagious. He parked in front of some of the more fancy homes with lights decorating damn near every inch of their property and listened as you and Eijiro pointed out different fixtures to each other. One of you pointed out the penguin that was popping out of a present, and the other giggled about the snowman that tipped his hat. 

If Katsuki hadn’t already gotten down on one knee to ask the both of you to marry him, he’s convinced he would’ve done it right now at this moment. 

“Oh! Look at that house! I think we can walk around!” He saw where you were pointing. It was a massive home at the end of the street with a wrap-around drive, decorated to look like a massive winter wonderland. 

“You two aren’t just gonna lemme drive through it, are you?” 

“Not a chance, man! There’s so much you can’t see from just the drive! And there are plenty of people walkin’!” 

So, he parked behind a couple of other cars, and saw the way you looked at him expectantly. “What? I’m not stopping you and Red from goin’, your highness.” 

He said it with a smirk that only grew when you furrowed your brow. “But, Katsu!” 

“Awe, c’mon sunshine, let him be a grinch. We can tell him all about it when we come back.” 

So, Katsuki watched you and Eijiro walk down the sidewalk and into the maze of colorful lights. He could keep an eye on you both for a while, but you eventually wandered off from Eijiro, getting distracted by a particularly intricate display. The redhead was too caught up looking at something else to notice you weren’t at his side anymore.

So, with a heavy sigh, Katsuki made sure he bundled up as much as he possibly could, turned off the car, and headed in your direction. 

The closer he walked, the slower his pace became. You had the softest smile on your face, clearly lost in some memory he felt would be wrong to interrupt. 

But, no matter if it was him or Eijiro, you had this funny way of knowing when either of them were close by. You turned your head and held your hand out to bring him closer. No words were spoken, none were needed. He simply stood behind you with hands wrapped around and burrowed into your pockets for additional warmth. He nuzzled his frozen cheeks against your neck, and you just chuckled.

Wherever you wandered, Katsuki was attached to you like a massive backpack with legs that stumbled behind you. He never once asked to go back to the car; he barely even grumbled the whole time. He was quiet, listening to you tell him stories of your childhood around this time of year. Some of them he'd heard before, but he didn't mind. He could listen to you talk all day and every night.

"Well, well," Eijiro wrapped his massive arms around the both of you, squishing Katsuki in the middle, "You two look so cute and cozy."

The three of you made one more lap around together before Katsuki was sure his fingers were gonna fall off even though he was holding both yours and Eijiro's hands.

Eijiro nodded back to the car. "Let's get him home before we have a Katsuki ice cube to deal with."

It was hours later, showers had been taken, and teeth were brushed. You were supposed to be tucked in between your two husbands, but you weren’t quite tired enough yet to sleep. 

Sneaking out from between the two of them used to be a challenge, but you had it down to a science now. Crawling off the bed and sliding into slippers, you crept into the living room. It was all a glow with the multicolored lights that decorated the damn near ten-foot tree Eijiro brought home. 

The world was quiet now; you grabbed a blanket off the back of the sofa and curled up on the bench seat beside the window to watch the snow as it fell in big, puffy flakes.  

Time slipped by, but you hadn’t even noticed. Too caught up in thoughts and the blanket of white that was covering the earth-- “Baby girl?” Eijiro stood in the doorway of your bedroom, stretching his arms high above his head with a wide yawn, “Whatcha doin’?” 

“Watchin’ the snow.” 

“You’re supposed to be sleepin’...” You could hear the smile in his voice, “And I mean in our bed. Not in front of the window, silly little woman.” 

He kissed the top of your head and ran his hand along your back. “I just wasn’t tired yet.” 

He nodded his head. “You could’ve woke us up.” 

“Katsu hates bein’ woken up, and you’ve got patrol tomorrow.” 

Eijiro stooped down and slid his arms under your legs and around your back to scoop you up. “Kat doesn’t care if it’s to help you. And I’ll gladly miss a few hours of sleep if it means making you tired.” He wiggled his brows, and you laughed while smacking his chest, knowing exactly what he was implying. “What!? Does that mean you don’t want me to wear you out?” 

“I didn’t say that–!” 

“What the hell are you two doing? Do you know what time it is?” Katsuki’s red eyes glared at the two of you. 

“Our baby girl wasn’t tired,” 

“Don’t blame me!” You tried to interject, but it was pointless. 

“Wanna help me tucker her out?” 

The two of you watched as a smirk slid onto Katsuki’s face, and you knew you were in for it.

For the better part of an hour, Katsuki had nestled himself between your thighs with his tongue parting your folds while Eijiro’s thick and scarred fingers traced pretty shapes over your clit. They didn’t stop after your first orgasm or your third. Only when you were fingered open enough to take Eijiro’s cock did they give you a small reprieve. 

“Eiji–! Sensitive!” 

“Awe, I know, baby girl,” He cooed and continued to sink you down on his cock. “That’s our pretty baby.” He finally got around to taking your glasses off and putting them in their rightful place on the nightstand since you wouldn’t be needing them anymore tonight. 

“Fuck…” You heard Katsuki rumble while he admired the way you stretched around Eijiro’s shaft. His tongue darted out again, licking up the both of you this time and making Eijiro rock his hips up to push into you even further. He did it over and over again, teasing until he had both of you begging. 

The order from Katsuki was gruff, “Give her what she wants.” And Eijiro didn't need to be told twice.

Behind you, Eijiro breathed a sigh of relief and took a hold of your hips with a bruising grip that he’d apologize for later. He bounced you up and down on his cock at a pace he wanted. Nudging your cervix with everything thrust. 

It didn’t take much to send you hurtling towards another high, this time with your walls spasming around Eijiro, squeezing him tighter and making him push into you with far more force than before. “Shit– so fuckin’ tight– always so fuckin’ tight– feel so damn good–” He babbled over and over, a steady stream of praises with his head tipped back against the headboard. 

“So fuckin’ good for us,” the blonde moaned as his tongue opted to circle around your pebbled nipple now, softly tugging thanks to Eijiro’s movements. Katsuki’s long fingers never let up on your clit, though, no matter where his mouth might have roamed, that little bundle of nerves was always being stimulated right up until he felt like he was going to burst, and Eijiro took over once again. 

“Open,” Oh, you compiled so well for them. Your pretty pink tongue lulled out, letting Katsuki smack the tip of his dripping cock against it before sliding it into your warm mouth. “Shit,” He hissed at the way your cheeks hollowed for him right from the start. He was gonna try to ease into this, but that wasn’t possible when you were sucking him like a damn lollipop. 

“Want it that bad, huh?” You nodded with your mouth full, warm, russet eyes glossed over with tears, looking up at him. He tried to hold out, wanted to make you whine and whimper that much more for him, but he was feeling just as desperate. 

Somehow, your tight walls hug Eijiro even more each time Katsuki nudged his cock to the back of your throat, inching it over the bend a little more every time. It took everything Eijiro had not to let his resolve slip. At least, not until he saw Katsuki rocking his hips a bit quicker. His lower lip tugged between his teeth.

Both their hips started snapping into you at a rapid pace. Each of them searching for their own high and not letting up until they found it. Pulling a final one from you in the process.

Your eyes weren’t even able to close. The moment they start to, Katsuki playfully tugged the end of your little braided pigtail. “Eyes on me, baby. Just like that, fuck, just like that.” He loves the way they go unbelievably wide when Eijiro fills you up. So much cum it always leaks out around his cock and makes a damn mess, but a pretty one at that. 

Eijiro nestled his face right against your shoulder when his balls tightened. A steady stream of, “loveyouloveyouloveyou–” tumbled right off his tongue while he spilled himself inside you. Fucking everything back into you again and again, completely unaware Katsuki was pouring his own load down your throat. 

When you swallowed around Katsuki the second that first rope of Eijiro’s warm cum hit you, that was his own undoing. He kept your nose pressed to the light hairs at his base while he coated your throat but pulled you back so you could welcome air back into your lungs just as soon as he was finished. “Gods, I love you,” His voice sounded choked as the words fell out, but his eyes were full of admiration. “Isn’t our wife the fuckin’ best?” 

He cleared away any tears that fell down the apples of your cheeks, holding your face so tenderly in his hands while Eijiro’s rubbed feather-light over the places he held you too tightly before. “Best woman in the whole wide world.” He kissed your neck, your jaw, anywhere he could reach. 

It was Katsuki who climbed off the bed with a grunt, grabbing a warm cloth to clean you up, but you were yawning before he even got back. “Most adorable too.” Eijiro chuckled. “Guess we really did make you sleepy, huh, baby girl?” 

Snow still drifted down gently outside the windows, but this time when you were nestled between your two husbands, your eyelids had no problems closing. Between Eijiro’s gentle snoring and the soft caress of Katsuki’s thumb along your hip, you were quickly whisked away into a peaceful slumber with a gentle whisper from the blonde behind you, "Sweet dreams, Marquie."

[paulineagain]

For this week’s writing exercise, I sat down to imagining “girlness,” I was drawn to a very young character in my WIP: the daughter of one of the heroines. I imagine her here a little older than she is in the current story. She is disabled, realizing her asexuality and understanding that her status as a “natural child” will always mark her in early 19th century America. The standards that set her apart aren’t going to dismay her, though. Embracing our personal differentness without saying we’re sorry, especially for women and girls, is also a way to break the rules.

Thank you for including me – and all of us – in this opportunity @bettsfic and @books. It has been a great opportunity for me to dive deeper into so much that I love about writing.

Being born unable to hear came with a lot of rules. She knew that instinctively, never being told. Smile when people’s lips moved, even though they make no effort to be understood. Avoid nodding. They might be asking for something you cannot or will not give. Stick to your own, if you can. They make accommodations for you, and you for them.

The school for the deaf was far away. It was on a river, but nothing like the one back home, and the people were as cold as the weather. Dyed in the wool Protestants from Puritan ancestors, they wore their collars high and their expressions sour. Nothing like the people back home who she knew, again instinctively, her teachers thought of as indolent and lazy. Easy words of misunderstanding and dismissal.

She was called Joy here, even though her name was really Joie. The teachers corrected her with the signs for J-O-Y when she wrote her name in French at the top of her parchment. She would have to cross it out and write the hated letters given in terse movements of fingers gnarled by hard scrubbing and a lack of moister. These women seemed to have no joy, and she was often surprised that they could even spell the word.

Knowing another life, full of people who loved and accepted her for who and what she was, did not soften the hard edges. She came to the school at age ten and now, two years later, she counted days rather than months. Her mother, with a heart in the right place, said that five years away from all she loved would be enough. Seven, though, would be better. Joie wanted out now, and if her mother knew what they told her here she might agree.

Women could not, according to her teachers, achieve more than hearth and husband, home and children. They drilled this into her and her eager classmates. These girls, for the genders were separated in and out of class, giggled and passed notes about boys. Joie didn’t see the attraction. Boys were fine to talk to, and run after in a game of tag. Some of her finest friends were boys but Joie didn’t understand why girls fussed over them. Most of all, she knew she never wanted to marry.

She avoided telling anything but the most obvious when asked about her family, too. The people at this place would mock her for a mother who was a sea captain, an aunt who practiced medicine and a father she did know. Their rules said everything about her family was upside down and sideways. Everything about it was incorrect.

Her own ambitions, also unspoken, were wrong too. Joie dreamed of making her own way in the arts. Her love of portraiture bloomed here, perhaps the only thing that did besides the climbing roses on the shady side of the girl’s dormitory. She hoped to make a life for herself with her talent, and to one day say she had painted every rich Creole lady and praline seller back home. They all held their own fascination, and deserved a place in posterity.

Like the roses that chose the difficulty of a different path in the shade, but managed still to bloom in profusion each year, Joie imagined thriving. Against the odds, and all the rules, she saw herself thriving on her own. Like her mother who could aim and prime a cannon and her aunt who could save lives with surgery, their Joie would succeed. Just five more patient years, and the rules would all but be forgotten.