#maybe it is time to not be named after a game that went so poorly i still get nauseous from stress thinking about it

[thelovers-thedreamers-and-me]

arsonforcharlie -> -> -> thelovers-thedreamers-and-me

[shy-writer-999]

Embarrassing Confessions: Taking Zoro's virginity and talking him through it (Part 2)

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI. THIS IS NSFW CONTENT.

Author’s note: This is smut with some plot at the beginning. ~4.5k words. Continuation of Part One. Reader (afab) takes Zoro’s virginity and talks him through it. Zoro is submissive; you call him a “good boy” (and he likes it). ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊˚ ★

Embarrassing Confessions: Taking Zoro's virginity and talking him through it (Part 2)

Zoro had been going fucking crazy since he spent the night in the crow’s nest with you. He had been thinking about you non-stop for days. He kept focusing on three things—you, the conversation (albeit muddled) about his virginity, and the fact that you had called him “sweet” and “cute.” He held onto his sanity for maybe 12 hours until he started to let himself run wild with fantasies of fucking you. How would it feel? What would your face look like? Would he make you feel good? When it came down to it, would he know what to do with his hands? Would he be able to make you moan his name? He had admittedly thought about it before but something about your last interaction flipped a switch in his brain. He had been so close to you, you had been so kind to him, you didn’t think poorly or weirdly about him being a virgin, you had even told him that you’d like to hang out with him, just him, sometime soon. All combined, this stuff was making Zoro’s poor heart do flips. He already had feelings for you, and this was just adding stuff to the pile of things he liked about you. And while he’d let himself fantasize about fucking you, even about making love to you, he knew that there was just no way he would ever get the chance to have sex with you, ever, let alone ‘lose’ his virginity to you. And besides, he’d die with embarrassment not knowing what to do even if you two did somehow manage to have sex (not in a million years).

Zoro was clueless to how much you liked him and needed him. And you needed him. You had been fantasizing about fucking him for months—nasty, nasty fucking, no less. But, being a virgin and all… You thought that Zoro probably wouldn’t be pulling your hair and spitting on you right off the bat, if you did manage to pull him. Your confidence shot up after that night together though; he had called you baby and asked you to sleep with him when he was super, super drunk. And they say that drunk words are sober thoughts for a reason. So, either he was just super horny and talking out of his ass, or he had thought about you in some sort of capacity like that before. You were hoping he had, at least. The next time you were alone with him you hoped that something would happen, even if it was as small as seeing him blush, you’d be happy. You had been wondering how good it would feel for him to squeeze your thigh again…

Both you and Zoro had been hoping that another night would happen where it was just you two alone in the crow’s nest or in isolation somewhere else. It would be a treat to just be near one another, to have the other’s undivided attention. And in hoping that so badly you must have manifested it.

So, it was inevitable that you two somehow ended up in the crow’s nest again, alone. It was only a few days after that night where Zoro got super drunk, asked you about your virginity, and got handsy with you. The thoughts and cravings for each other were very much fresh in the mind. To be fair, the night started with everyone on the crew in the crow’s nest. You had been playing card games, sharing bottles of sake, eating snacks that Sanji made, and watching Usopp try to do the worm much to Chopper and Luffy’s amusement.

While everyone else trickled downstairs as the night went on, you and Zoro stuck around. It was a beautiful night—the air was chilly, the stars were bright, and the waves lapped on the ship’s hull. The moon was full and flooded the crow’s nest with pale light.

Zoro was just looking as fineee as always—the pale moonlight casted shadows that made his muscles look even more defined than usual. His jaw was sharp, his eyes steely, his mossy hair ruffled. He just looked so... manly. And fucking hot. Likewise, he could make out your face in the muted light, your eyes kind and yet so sharp, your striking beauty… everything he adored was right in front of him.

Tonight, you had been drinking more than Zoro, but neither of you was blackout drunk or anything (unlike Zoro the other night). Zoro was trying to reign it in on the sake because he didn’t want another embarrassing disaster of drunken belligerence. You were feeling a bit buzzed and flushed in the face, but that was it. Emboldened by the liquid courage and your pure horniness for this man, you had been getting closer to him throughout the night. You needed to be closer to him. You were on the verge of just ripping his clothes off, but you were exerting self-control to the highest degree.

When everyone else had left, you were maybe a couple feet away from Zoro. Your proximity was making him nervous. Beforehand you had been bickering, laughing, gossiping, reflecting on past adventures but now… Zoro had no clue what to talk about or say. All he could think of was how beautiful you looked tonight and how fast his heart was beating. Why am I getting so worked up for no reason? He complained to himself internally, annoyed. Well don’t start being so awkward now that it’s just you two.

In the awkward silence an idea came to your mind. It was like you had been struck by lightning. Zoro had asked you about your virginity before, so why not ask him about his? If you were sober maybe you would have shot the idea down, but it seemed like a sure-fire way to set the tone of the evening and you were so, so horny. Might as well have a little fun with it.

“Hey, Zoro?” You ventured. “I was thinking about our conversation the other night...”

“Oh, uh… Yeah? What about it?” He responded, cringing. That was a seriously embarrassing evening for him, and he regretted getting so drunk he forgot the end of it.

“Well, you asked me some questions so I thought I could ask you some too…” You trailed off and looked into his eyes intently. Your liquid courage was certainly doing its job.

You were far from slurring your words, dizzy, or sloppy. You were simply feeling bolder, less scared, more confident. Zoro wasn’t sure if he was feeling anything other than the intoxication that your presence provoked in him. He was nervous too, aroused, and blushing already, but more than anything, Zoro was completely caught off guard by your comment.

“Go ahead,” he implored, trying to come off as casual as he could. But he had no clue what you were getting at, and he was worried you were about to bring up something else he said when he blacked out.

“You asked me about my virginity, and I didn’t get to ask you about yours at all.” You blushed and looked at him pleadingly, with puppy eyes.

“What did you want to know?” His voice came out hoarse. His words got caught in his throat and his heart almost stopped. So, you had been wondering about him? Wondering about his virginity? He couldn’t believe it. Did he hear you right?

You waited for a second. Were you really about to ask this? Fuck it. “I-I was wondering how you wanted to lose yours.”

Your words hung in the air which now felt thick and almost suffocating. His gaze was fixed on your face, switching between your lips and eyes. He suddenly became hyperaware of how close you were to him. You were almost touching. The atmosphere was intimate, tense, sexually charged… it felt electric. Something was about to happen.

If it had been daytime, you would have seen that Zoro’s face was bright red and he was already starting to get hard. That’s how flustered he had been recently—a mere suggestive question like that set him off.

He stuttered out an answer. “Well—uh… I-I- guess I want to lose it to someone I like.”

The roles had certainly flipped since the other night. Now it was you pushing for answers, you who was getting closer to him, making him feel all sorts of ways. But the difference was that you, unlike Zoro the other night, were fully cognizant of what you were doing, and you were doing it deliberately. You could tell he was almost squirming.

“What would that person be like?” You brazenly pressed him for an answer and got a bit closer. You were touching now, just the side of your knee to his. But he felt like his skin was on fire where you it met with yours. He swallowed dryly, getting harder by the second. Your eyes were riveted on one another’s, so close that if you leaned in you could kiss. His heartbeat was going through the roof.

Zoro was at a loss as for how he should answer your question. He felt like he couldn’t just come out and say that it was you, that would be presumptive, too asinine, creepy, maybe… He had the urge to play off your question and save face, avoid the electricity bolting between you, run from the situation because it made him feel so intensely aroused and nervous at once. He was hoping that it was too dark for you to see his rapidly growing hard on.

“I don’t know.” He blatantly lied, staving off the inevitable moment where he would finally have to muster up the strength to do something about his feelings for once. “Why do you ask?” Zoro diverted the weight of the question and put it back on you.

There was another moment of silence. You were just staring at each other. You were so close; Zoro could see your chest rise and fall with each breath. He could see your eyelashes, your cupid’s bow, your cheeks, your neck… He refused to let his eyes roam lower. God knows what would happen then.

“I��m just curious if it would be someone like me,” you murmured out, lowering your voice. There we go, you said to yourself. There’s no turning back now. That was pretty fucking direct.

Zoro’s breath hitched. He was rock hard, inches away from you. He was in agony. The seconds felt like years. His heart twisted and fluttered. It was now or never.

“It is you.” He almost spat his words out, he was so feeling so many things at once. Reeling at how close you were to him, he had just confessed that he wanted to fuck you, that he wanted you to take his virginity. He felt like he was going to pass out or start floating off the floor. Would you laugh at him? What were you getting at?

When he answered, you felt so validated. He wanted to fuck you. He just said it. You leaned forward.

“Can we?” You asked quietly.

He nodded tentatively, not sure what the nodding would accomplish but hoping you were going to say something else, needing you to do something, or else he was going to pin you down and have his way with you.

“Do you want to do it tonight, Zoro? Can I touch you?” You leaned even closer to him. He was excruciatingly hard. He couldn’t cope. You wanted him.

He word-vomited his response clumsily. “I do, but I-I- have no clue what I’m doing, I don’t think I’d be very good… I’m sorry, I-” He wasn’t able to finish his sentence before you cut him off.

“Let me show you how,” you pleaded. Zoro froze and swallowed hard. He nodded again, indicating that yes, you could show him how. His pants were becoming painfully tight as his erection grew. He needed to be touched. He wanted to touch you.

“Show me,” Zoro barely managed to push the words out of his mouth, which now felt dry and gravelly.

You leaned in and kissed him, finally. Your body was now pressing against his, and he was rigid, blushing so hard you would think he would explode. After a moment of your kissing, he relaxed, and his hands crept up to sweetly cup your cheeks. Zoro wasn't kissing you like you were a one night stand or a friend with benefits... his kisses were tender, kind, gentle, loving, even.

His kisses started timidly but then turned desperate and sloppy. He obviously didn’t know what he was doing. His lips were hungry, his tongue was everywhere, he was already worked up. You pulled away from him.

“Zoro,” you said his name and his heart flipped. “Lay down.” He did as you said, and at the same time you shimmied out of your pants, so you only had a thong and your top on. When Zoro was flat on his back you crawled on top of him and sat straddling him, leaning over him, so your hair tickled his face. His raging hard-on was immediately apparent to you as your clothed pussy rested on it. Zoro felt your weight on top of him and had to stop himself from cumming in his pants.

“First, we do this,” you whispered, and pulled your shirt over your head. Now you only had your bra and a thong on. You reached down and started to tug Zoro’s shirt up and over his head, and he helped speed the process along. He felt like something had set his body on fire.

You took a moment to take in the sight of his arms, his abs, his chest—so toned, strong, and big. Fuck. You ran your hands over his chest and abdomen, and he shuddered, looking up at you, panting already.

Leaning over Zoro, your faces were centimeters apart. “Now take my bra off,” you told him, and his shaky hands fumbled with the clasp. It took him embarrassingly long to unhook it, but he managed. He slipped it off your shoulders and threw it to the side. Your breasts were free now, nipples hard. He was in heaven.

“Touch me,” you breathed out, guiding his hands to rest on your tits. You started kissing him again, harder this time. He was so needy. He immediately started feeling your breasts in every way he could think of—he palmed them, massaged them, rolled your hard nipples between his fingers, kneaded them. He was already letting out puffs of air that would soon turn into moans. He could feel you slowly start to grind on his cock through his pants.  

You pulled away from the sloppy kisses to instruct him again. “Take your pants off.” He did as you said, pulling them down with your help. You pulled his boxier briefs off as well. His huge cock sprung out, hitting the chilly air. It was even longer than you imagined, girthy, already red and inflamed. He laid back down and you mounted him once again, his cock pressing on your already hot and wet cunt.

You started to kiss his neck, suck on his earlobes, kiss his cheeks, his collarbones, worshipping his skin. Zoro was needily grinding his hips up, rubbing his cock against your thong, brushing it against your clit and causing you to buck your hips inadvertently.

You let out a whine. “Be patient Zoro, wait a little bit.” Just hearing you whisper his name sent him spiraling. He felt like an animal, he wanted to devour every part of your body, wanted to fuck you into oblivion… but he held back. You were in control now. He had to just do what you said and hold off on cumming as long as he could.

“Now, grab my ass.” You commanded and Zoro’s hands immediately went to your ass cheeks. He wasted no time squeezing and pulling handfuls of your ass roughly, surely rough enough to leave a bruise. It felt like his hands were everywhere at once. Zoro left one hand on your ass then reached the other to your tits without you prompting and you didn’t correct him. You grinded on his cock now, harder, deliberately. You felt like you were already dripping wet, and you wouldn’t be able to hold on for much longer.

“Zoro, do you want to fuck me?” You breathed the words into his ear sweetly. You could feel him tense up beneath you, he nodded. But that wouldn’t cut it. “I need you to use your words,” you murmured.

“Yes,” his deep voice was hoarse, and he panted. “Yes, I want to fuck you. I need you.”

You grabbed one of his hands and brought it to your thong, sliding the thin strip of fabric to the side. Zoro put his fingertips on your bare pussy lips—glistening wet, throbbing, inflamed, seeping slick onto his digits immediately. Without having to be instructed, he started moving his fingers back and forth and you let out a moan. His heart flipped again. He never thought he would hear you moan and it was beyond anything he could imagine. He was infatuated with you, obsessed with you, he would have done anything you told him to in this moment.

Zoro ventured a finger up into you, slowly extending it inside, where he could feel you convulse on it. You let out another sweet sound, properly moaning his name for the first time.

“Zoro, fuck,” you crooned, and he took that as a sign to slide another finger in. It let out a squelching noise. His fingers explored your insides, feeling the walls, feeling how absolutely sopping wet you were, how your muscles contracted. On instinct, he started to curl his fingers just barely and you moaned immediately.

He was learning what you liked, what would make you feel good. And all he wanted to do was make you feel good. His eyes left his fingers in your pussy and snapped up to your face. Sure enough, your eyes were closed, your face twisted into an expression of ecstasy, your brows furrowed ever so slightly, your mouth screwed up into a small circle letting out little gasps for air and sweet moans.

Zoro had you on the verge of orgasm already. Your hips were bucking, and you were rutting down on his fingers, making him fuck you even harder with them. His fingers were curling inside, spreading you open, coated in your wetness, causing it to pool underneath you on his hand and wrist. His other hand was still kneading your ass, digging into it and pulling on it painfully.

You suddenly grabbed his wrist, gasping, signaling him to stop. You didn’t want to cum just yet without having him inside of you. He pulled his fingers out and went to roughly shove them in your mouth. He had no idea what had gotten into him, but he was feral now. He wanted to see you suck your own wetness from his fingers. He wanted you to look him in the eyes. You sucked his fingers clean slowly. His hips bucked up. He wanted you so badly.

“I want you,” you mewled out, and he took the initiative this time, lining his cock up with your hole. “Zoro,” you told him. “Go really slow.”

Zoro’s tip was pulsing, hot and red against your entrance. He started pressing it into you, agonizingly slow, and you sunk onto his cock centimeters at a time. He felt like he was about to go fucking crazy. As he slowly stretched you open, you let out a series of gasps, but when he finally bottomed out inside of you, he let out his own groan, deep and rumbling, that made your heart flutter.

Your pussy felt mind blowing on his cock. It was tight, wet, soft, velvety, smooth, warm all at once. He had never felt this before, and sex felt better than he could have ever imagined. He couldn’t believe he had been missing out on this for so long, and he couldn’t believe that he was lucky enough for it to be with you.

“Stay like this for a second,” you commanded, looking down at him, and his cock sat buried in your pussy, throbbing. He wanted to fuck you so, so bad. His mind was going into overdrive. He was panting. He didn’t know how long he could go like this, with you cockwarming him. He would just start fucking you eventually. He couldn’t bear it much longer.

You leaned into his face and locked eyes with him as close as you could get.

“Beg for it.” You commanded.

For a split-second Zoro was dumbfounded before he started to beg and plead shamelessly. He felt pathetic, and that was the desired effect. He was surprised by how much he got off on being talked through it, being told what to do to you. He liked that you were in control. He never would have guessed how good it would feel getting bossed around by you, something that had never happened before, let alone during sex.

“Please, please—let me fuck you I-I-uhhhhhggnnnn” Zoro let out deep a moan mid-sentence. His face was twisted in anguish, head thrown back, he was getting worked up. “I want to fuck you so bad. Please.” He was shaking.

“You can, now that you asked so nice,” you smiled sweetly at him, teasing him. You started grinding back and forth on his cock, which was still buried in you. It was rubbing you deeply inside, pushing close to your cervix. You started to get off on it—his cock was huge, and he was panting and begging for you. It turned you on to no end. You were in control of the Roronoa Zoro, and he loved it.

You didn’t grind on his cock much before he took the lead. Zoro grabbed you by your hips and slowly pulled you up off his cock before ramming you down on it again. He let out another deep groan. “Fuck.”

“You’re doing such a good job, Zoro,” you encouraged and coached him from above as he sloppily pulled you up and down his cock. “Keep going just like this. Up and down, up and down, just like that.”

Your praise went straight to his dick. He started fucking you how he wanted, how he had been imagining. His pace quickened and the noises of you fucking were getting louder, wetter—when he pulled you down onto his cock, the slapping echoed. The noises were wet, disgusting, nasty, and needy. You were starting to lose your composure. A string of moans left your mouth, moans of “Zoro,” “fuck,” and “yes,” and “harder.”

“Does that feel good?” Zoro gasped out, choking, begging for more praise. He wanted to make you feel good. He wanted you to feel good with his cock. He wanted to make you cum. You were lost in pleasure at that point, barely aware of what was going on around you, fucked to pure bliss.

“It—feels so good, Zoro—nggghhhh… fuck, Zoro, fuck, you’re doing—doing such a good job—ughhhgghhhhh—such a good boy-” you heaved out your words, and your praise made him crazy. When he heard you utter the last two words, ‘good boy,’ he went ballistic and his heart twisted inside. That turned him on. He liked that you called him that—but he liked your praise, he liked you guiding him through it, he liked that you called him a good boy, he liked that you were in control.

Zoro reached his hand up mid thrust and started clumsily rubbing your pussy, searching for your clit. He rubbed it messily, eliciting another series of moans, croons, praises, and encouragements from you. He was getting the hang of it. He was fucking you and doing it well. You would have never guessed that he had been a virgin before tonight—he was a natural at it. Zoro rubbed and fucked you closer and closer to orgasm. He didn’t even think of the possibility of cumming in you, couldn’t focus on anything other than the present, or he would have busted immediately. He was getting close, too.

Zoro let out moan after moan. He moaned your name, moaned that he wanted you to feel good, moaned that you felt so good on his cock, moaned that your pussy was so tight, so good, so wet. He called you baby, rutting his hips up to shove himself deeper into you.

Zoro was slamming you unceremoniously up and down on his cock. Your tits were bouncing in his face and he was mesmerized. Your face was fucked out, full of pleasure, sweet sounds leaving your mouth, you were animalistic, you were moaning his name again, and again, and again… it was all getting to his head. He was going to cum soon. His pace was frenzied, frantic, desperate, hungry—you could tell that he was getting there.

“Z-zoro,” you gasped for air. “I’m-I’m going to cum, I want—nnnnghhhhhhh—I’m going to cum on your cock.” That sent him over the edge. He was fucking you lightning speed. He was going to pull out and cum on his stomach or something, he couldn’t just cum in you without asking first, he was a gentleman after all, but as you started to cream on his cock and convulse around it, you begged him to cum inside you.

“Zoro I’m—ahhhh—I’m cumming—please, I-I want you to cum in me—mmmmmhhhh—please cum in me,” you begged him, pussy constricting and fluttering from your orgasm around his cock, fingernails digging into his biceps. He didn’t hear anything after that.

When he got the green light, Zoro started to shake and convulse, he reached the peak of his pleasure, and when he came, all he thought about was you, you, you, you, he was looking at you, your tits were bouncing, he was feeling you, fucking you, listening to you, wet from you, heart aching for you. Zoro’s deep groans echoed, rumbling in his chest, his head thrown back, sweat on his brow, breathing quickly, panting. He let out one last body-wracking shudder and jerked upwards, his cum shooting into you and filling you up. He felt nothing but pure ecstasy and bliss, pure pleasure. He was lost in it.

When he came back down to earth (it felt like hours but had been mere seconds), you had collapsed on top of him, breathing heavy, smiling sweetly, leaving kisses on his neck. His cock was still buried inside of you and there was cum leaking out of your pussy and onto his shaft.

He was out of breath. He could feel you pulsing around him still and could feel pleasure still seeping out of you. Looking at you like this, sweaty, naked, content... he felt like he would die from happiness.

“Holy fuck,” Zoro panted.

“Yeah?” You tilted your head from where it was resting on his chest and looked up at him, smiling.

He kissed the top of your head. You blushed again. “Thank you,” he murmured and sighed. You could feel his heart still beating a thousand miles a minute. He groaned and exhaled again. “Fuck.” He felt and shy after going crazy fucking you senseless.

“Oh, we’re not done yet,” you giggled.

“What?” Zoro blushed crimson. “I don’t know if I could go again right now, I’m sorry, I—” He started apologizing and stuttering but you cut him off with a kiss and he melted. He was so cute when he got flustered.

“No, silly.” You smiled at him. “Now, I get to teach you about aftercare.”

--

In case you haven't read it yet, here's part 1.

and here's my masterlist

Okay that’s all for now!! Also here is some photo inspiration so you can get the full picture. ( ◡‿◡ *) (˃ᆺ˂) this man gets me worked up!!! THANK U FOR READING! - Z

[starcurtain]

Hey! I apologize if this question has been asked before since it seems like a pretty obvious one, but where do you think the idea of Aventurine being a sex slave came from? Other than the obvious factor of it being something fun for the fandom to mess around with, I mean.

It's something I kind of took for granted as being true before playing his quest, but after finishing it I realized there wasn't really any indication. The only thing I can really think of is his master's comments about him having a good body. Is there anything in his behavior you can think of that would lead to this conclusion if it wasn't a popular fan interpretation already/kind of just an easy conclusion to reach with a slave character?

(also kind of related but what do you think of the idea that he sleeps around/with his clients to make deals? he's obviously willing to sexualize himself with the boob window, but that doesn't necessarily mean he goes further.)

As far as I can tell, the idea that Aventurine was involved in sexual slavery comes from three (maybe four) places:

First, the comment from the master about Aventurine's appearance. People were holding this comment up as refutable proof that Aventurine was used in sexual slavery on top of being tossed into the Hunger Games; however, the response from other players on this interpretation, especially the Chinese side of the fandom, was very mixed, with a lot of people pointing out that the context in the game probably meant the slave master was talking about Aventurine's ability to attract attention from fans watching the literal Sigonian Hunger Games, rather than having a direct sexual-slavery connotation.

Second, the comment from Sparkle about stripping naked and getting on his knees for Sunday. This one has way more implication in English than I think it might for an Eastern audience, actually. In English, this pretty much sounds like Sparkle saying Aventurine trades sexual favors for success in his gambles. However, I suspect the original intention in Chinese was more about humiliation. Western audiences don't have as much history with honor-based prostration, i.e. accepting corporal humiliation as a form of reconciliation that Eastern audiences might be more familiar with. And in any case, Sparkle is Sparkle. She probably just went for the lowest blow she could think of here.

Third, the general assumption that if Sigonian slaves were being chained, branded, beaten, sent to death matches, etc., it seems logical that they would also be taken advantage of in other ways. I honestly think this is probably the fairest take--many, many real slaves around the world faced (and still face!) sexual abuse, so if slaves from Sigonia were treated so poorly you could make them fight to the death for entertainment, it stands to reason they were probably also not safe from other forms of assault. We also have no idea what happened to Kakavasha in any of the years between his being a tiny child fleeing the massacre and then being purchased as a slave as a late-teens-early-twenties person. That's a very long time for a child to have to survive on their own on an extremely hostile planet and not face risks of all kinds or end up needing to do unspeakable things to survive. So I think this is at least not that far-fetched, although it's important to say there's nothing in the game that directly confirms this.

And fourth: I read a tweet semi-recently that stated that one of the Chinese (or maybe it was Japanese) names for a quest Aventurine was involved in was actually a reference to a book about a teenage sexual assault survivor. However, when I tried to verify this myself, I couldn't find any quest Aventurine was in that was based on a book about sexual assault in either English, Chinese, or Japanese. It's possible I just missed something, but I'm taking this one with a bit of a grain of salt currently, since I can't confirm it personally.

Regarding your other question, about whether I think Aventurine sleeps around to make deals...

I definitely think he does not, for one major reason.

First, I will admit that Aventurine is definitely willing to use his appearance to his advantage. This is pretty obvious. He wears incredibly flashy clothes, baths himself in cologne, overloads on glittering golden jewels, and absolutely calls attention to his appearance when working with clients.

We see him actively doing this in his Moment Among the Stars video, where he is clearly using his looks as an equal tool (to his wealth), to daze his target.

It's not an accident that he says things like "Use me as you wish," with all the explicit connotations preserved. The implication is there. However, unless he was absolutely backed into a corner, I think that implication is all it will ever be.

The reason I think this is that the devs go out of their way to give Aventurine three fairly noticeable physical behaviors in his in-game scenes:

For one, he has some of the most closed off body language of any character in the game.

Aventurine's default conversation pose is arms crossed directly and tightly in front of himself. This is like "Defensive Body Language 101." By crossing your arms, you put a symbolic barrier between yourself and the person you're speaking to, and also ensure that your hands are up and available in case you actually need to physically defend yourself.

Virtually all of Aventurine's conversations take place from this stance, no matter who he is speaking to (from the Trailblazer all the way to Topaz). He deliberately closes his pose off and tightens up his silhouette, which just sends a glaring "Don't touch me" message.

This closing off is also blatantly apparent when you compare it to the deliberately open poses he strikes while trying to make himself seem accessible to others (like tempting clients) or seem powerful (to intimidate):

Complementing this habit of closing himself off is a second noticeable aspect of his body language: He frequently avoids eye contact to the point that he even holds conversations while entirely facing away from the person he's speaking to.

I might be a bit lenient and say maybe he's doing this to on purpose to be mysterious, whoo~~ But... in all honestly, he just does this with everyone, even with Ratio while trying to talk about an actual important issue (wanting to look into Acheron's real identity). Hell, even the fake Aventurine does it to himself!

We can even say that wearing the rose-tinted glasses in the first place is another intentional barrier, one Aventurine deliberately removes in specific moments to give people the (false) impression that he's "letting them in" to his circle:

Now, this might be a bit more complicated in Aventurine's case, because eye contact has a whole extra meaning when eyes are the defining trait of your species and come with particularly challenging racial stereotypes. So it may be that Aventurine is simply used to conducting conversation while looking away to minimize racial prejudice against his eyes' unique appearance.

However, I'd also argue that the devs deliberately turned his entire model away in cutscene after cutscene to create a clear sense of being inaccessible, unapproachable, and unwilling to engage in the physical intimacy of standing closely, directly facing, and staring at his conversation partners.

While he faces away, he controls both the figurative and the literal direction of conversation, forcing people to keep their eyes on him while he is free to move as he pleases. Over and over again, it just says "I want to be the one in control. I'm not afraid to show my back to you, but you are not welcome to come near me."

And, in fact, that's a third aspect of his character's body language that I am sure the devs did not include accidentally: More so than other characters, many of Aventurine's conversations are conducted from weirdly far distances. Like, half the time he's talking, he's standing all the way on the opposite side of the room!

This habit of speaking from a-larger-than-normal distance is apparent in the first scene with Himeko...

And then in just about every other conversation too:

The bubble is twenty feet in every direction.

Like yes, he does approach and have conversations like a normal person... sometimes... But it is significantly more noticeable with Aventurine than with other characters that he often conducts whole conversations--even with his allies--from a distance. Just genuinely weirdly far apart.

Leaving space for Gaiathra, I guess.

And it's because these significant decisions were made with Aventurine's in-game body language that, when he deliberately alters his own behavior, it is instantaneously noticeable.

In 2.0, he closes the distance, the glasses come off, and he gets directly up in the Trailblazer's face.

It's uncomfortable not just because the player is suddenly being loomed over, but because this behavior has already been subconsciously established for the player as out of character for Aventurine.

The barriers the character himself was putting up are deliberately stripped away so that he can use physicality and demanding eye contact to intimidate his target. He has to reverse his own normal body language in order to come across as domineering (and, I guess if you're into that, appealing in a domineering manner).

And ummmm, just a tiny aside here because I can't resist:

This does mean that when the game goes out of its way to demonstrate Aventurine altering his own normal habit of distant and defensive body language, it is absolutely intentional.

Yes, this is a Ratiorine post in disguise. There literally isn't any other character in the game that Aventurine is shown being comfortable standing so close to and interacting with in this manner. This doesn't occur in every one of their scenes, but Ratio is the only character that this happens with repeatedly. It's not an accident that the devs literally added "They were walking side-by-side" as flavor text.

But look, I'll be fair: There's a great example of this in Aventurine's scene with Acheron too, where he closes the distance and attempts to make eye contact with her--seeking her guidance and closeness--and she is actually the one stepping away, speaking with her back turned, demonstrating her power and control (and issues with connection!) in that scene.

Anyway, this was a whole longggg tangent into analyzing Aventurine's body language, but my point is that, overall, the devs deliberately adjusted his model's actions in-game to give the impression of a person who clearly wants to be in control of every interaction he has with other people, who insists on distance over intimacy, and whose stances and habits suggest that he is significantly less accessible and open than his "Use me as you wish" motto might suggest.

Long story longer, I think that there is almost zero chance Aventurine is willingly ceding control over himself or the actions expected of him to anyone he isn't 100% comfortable with, and I think that using physical intimacy of any kind would be an absolute last resort for him. Frankly, he comes across as more likely to shoot himself in the foot than let someone he doesn't trust lay hands on him.

To me, he reads very much as "You may look, but you may not touch."

[alrightieaphroditie]

harder | j.m  series masterlist!

pairing *:·ﾟjoel miller x female!reader wc *:·ﾟ5.7k warnings *:·ﾟ18+! minors please do not interact!! v angsty at first, mentions of death and overall sad topics... then we go into a lil bit of kissing, some dirty talk if you squint, teasing, pet names (baby, sugar), titty play, some praise, probably poorly written smut lmao an *:·ﾟit's been a hot second since i tried writing smut and damn am i insecure about it lmaoo this took longer than anticpated too because i sadly lost half of it almost immediately after writing it... so yeah. feedback is hella appreciated on this, and it isn't quite proofread so if you catch something please let me know!! i enjoyed writing this (like a lot) so i really hope you all enjoy reading this! <3 

synopsis *:·ﾟever since the dinner at your place, joel and ellie have fit themselves into your life seamlessly. when joel gets back from a hunting trip, he comes over and shows you some new tricks. (18+!)

over the course of a couple months, joel and ellie had fit themselves into your life like puzzle pieces. 

the pair would come over to your house once a week every week after that first dinner together, and sometimes you would cook, sometimes you'd grab some food to go from the tipsy bison. they would help you set the table, ellie nagging joel most nights about how slow he was moving to put the silverware around the table. you would all eat, then ellie would sneak into the living room while you and joel cleaned together. and then the three of you would sit around your coffee table, playing board games or cards. or you'd go to see the movie playing in town, or you'd go for a walk around the neighborhood. 

these nights with them quickly became your favorite moments of the week. you had formed a close bond with ellie, and the more time you spent with joel, the harder you fell for him. most nights ellie would fall asleep in the guest room you had set up for her, and you and joel would spend hours talking together out on the porch like you did that first night. 

sometimes you'd talk about nothing major. he'd comment on how the greenhouses were doing, which was where you helped the community out the most, and it would get you talking about all the vegetables and flowers you were trying to grow. or you'd ask how his patrol shift went, and he'd complain to you about his partner. it was small talk, but with someone like joel, it meant a lot to you that he was willing to simply sit on your wooden bench beside you and listen. 

sometimes, after a long week, you'd make joel a glass of whiskey (which you had started to keep around simply for the man. how he didn't know how much you crushed on him was beyond you. maybe it was his age.) and you'd talk about the harder things. your time spent in the bunker your family built. how your best friend was murdered by a group of hunters after they had kept you captive for weeks. how they used you. how you managed to kill them all while they slept because they got lazy and assumed you were too weak. 

joel had had a hard time listening to it, but he insisted that he wanted to hear about your past. the guilt he felt was indescribable. he wasn't the one to keep you captive, to use you, but with his past as a hunter he couldn't help but feel like he played a role in your pain. he had spent a lot of time repressing his emotions regarding that aspect of his life, but you encouraged him to talk about it. to feel his emotions. you told him over and over again that you didn't blame him, weren't scared of him. didn't judge him. 

it was hard for him to hear, to believe, but your consistency helped him more than he would ever admit. he was more welcome in jackson now than he was when he first arrived, mostly thanks to you, but he still felt like an outsider. like people were just waiting for a pin to drop and for him to reduce back into the monster of a man they claimed him to be. he was tired of trying to prove to everyone that he was simply just a man who survived the only way he knew how to. but with you? he didn't feel the need to apologize for who he was. he could settle with you, and that was something he hadn't felt in a long time. 

on the simpler nights, joel would talk about his life before the outbreak, how he and tommy worked in contracting and how he missed doing things with his hands. he'd talk about always being busy, always doing something, when the world turned. about how he was skeptical of the community when he and ellie first stumbled upon it because for once, for the first time since the outbreak, he wasn't constantly having to look over his shoulder for something bad. 

on the harder nights, the ones where joel felt like he needed more than one glass of liquor, he confided in you about sarah. about tess. about how his relationship with tommy had changed and he didn't know what he needed to do to fix it anymore. about his insecurities with ellie, how he didn't trust his mind anymore to make the right decisions when it came to her because he was too attached. 

he told you all of the things he swore he would never talk about again, and you simply sat there, listening, sharing his burden. the way your hand would rest gently on his arm while he talked, squeezing it every once in a while, to encourage him to go on, it provided him with a strength he didn't know he needed. 

joel didn't know this, but that night when he first told you about sarah and the events that happened on his birthday, after he and ellie had left, you spent the rest of your night crying in your bed. crying for joel, for the loss he had experienced. for how the world had turned and how he had to manage the loss of his own world on top of it. for how he was never properly able to grieve her death. 

you were beginning to see a side of joel you don't think anyone has seen in a long time. you were also starting to understand why joel miller was the man he is today. after learning about his past, his experiences, and his trauma, you recognized and could empathize why he felt the need to guard his heart the way he has been. it was a testament to his strength, how he could keep going while carrying all of that inside of him, and you admired the hell out him. 

and somehow, you had worked your way into his heart, through his guards. and joel may not have known it yet, but you were there to stay, and you would be for as long as he let you. 

you were constantly thinking about the man, your days spent replaying your conversations in your mind and getting giddy just remembering them. you honestly were a bit concerned, considering you've never felt this way about anyone before. you wanted to ask maria about it, but then she'd pester you into telling her who you were crushing over, and you didn't think it would go over too well considering joel was twice your age and, well, him. 

so, you kept it to yourself, letting your mind fantasize about what it would be like to actually be��with joel, physically, romantically, all of it. 

you hadn't seen joel in a couple of days, as he was one of the men selected to go hunt. he wouldn't be back for a few more days, either, and you hated to admit it but you missed him. and you wondered if he missed you too. if he ever thought about you while he was away. he was so hard to read, even now, and sometimes you thought about just grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him while you unloaded all of your feelings onto him. 

but if there was one thing you knew about joel miller, it was that he would absolutely hate that. so... you kept it to yourself. 

you had just gotten home after spending all day in the greenhouse with ellie. maria had you showing her the vegetation that the community was working on, showing her the ins and outs of gardening and how to properly pick the fruit that was growing. she loved it, of course, and on her breaks, she spent most of the time sketching the different fruits and flowers in the little sketchbook joel had found for her. 

it was a good day, but a busy one, and you were exhausted. the sun was already starting to set, and you wanted to cuddle up on your couch with one of the romance novels your friend had brought you with a cup of tea. you were still dressed in your work outfit - a pair of olive-green linen pants and simple black cotton t-shirt - and you were already planning on stepping into your pajamas early when a knock on your door startled you. 

a glance through the little peephole on your door had your heart racing. joel was standing on your porch, one of his arms behind his back as he glanced around. you could see the muscles in his arm bulge against the faded red t-shirt he was wearing, and that sight alone could've fueled your fantasies for a month straight. 

a grin was plastered on your face as you unlocked the front door, and his dark eyes found yours easily through the screen door. "joel miller, as i live and breathe. what are you doin' here?" you adopted an exaggerated southern accent, something you and ellie started doing to poke fun of joel for his texan roots. he kept telling you guys it wasn't funny, but you could always see a small smile on his lips every time you did it.

even now as he rolled his eyes at you, you could see the edges of his mouth quirk up in a smirk, and fuck but you loved it. "you think you're so damn funny with that, don't you?" he asked, his gaze trailing down your body so quickly you almost missed it. but you didn't, and now your face was burning bright red. 

"ellie would agree with me and you know it, mister." you argued, pushing the screen door open for joel to come in. he didn't move, though, keeping his arm behind his back with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. you crossed your arms over your chest. "but for real, i thought you were gonna be out a few more days with everyone else?" it was rare that the hunting party would come back early, but not uncommon either. 

"didn't have much luck in the area we were in, so we figured we'd come back and regroup before leaving again. i found somethin' though," he trailed off, a full smile encompassing his mouth now. something you had learned about joel in your months of studying him was that gift giving was a huge thing for him. he mainly brought stuff back for ellie, but you've noticed lately that he had been finding little things here and there for you too. you wondered what that meant.

you could just barely make out the edges of something behind his legs, but you couldn't quit tell what it was. your arms slipped from your chest, your hands moving out and making a grabby motion. "you want me to close my eyes?" you teased, making a point of squinting your eyes so that you could see just a sliver of joel between them. he shook his head at you, grumbling something about how weird you were becoming, and he moved his arm from back behind his body. 

"joel!" you gasped; mouth dropped in awe as he presented a perfectly intact guitar. "this is amazing! you do know what this means now, right?" his eyebrow rose as he took in the sight of you gently holding the instrument. he had been pretty proud of the find, taking care to clean off the vines and dirt that had dusted itself around the guitar. considering you had been begging him for lessons for weeks since ellie mentioned he could play the guitar; he knew what was coming. 

he wanted to tease you about it, regardless. 

"if i hear the words 'guitar lessons' come out of your mouth, 'm leavin'." he threatened, crossing his arms across his chest. his worn t-shirt strained against his muscles and tightened around his chest, and it took everything in you not to stare. his tone was mean, as mean as he could get with you, but then he did something you weren't expecting - he winked at you. 

you squealed internally. 

“that’s not fair and you know it, miller. we literally have a guitar now! what else are we gonna do with it?” you complained playfully, your voice light. you started backing up into the house, joel’s arm reaching out to catch the screen door before it slammed shut in his face. he followed you in, making sure to close both doors and kicking his work boots off next to the small rug you had inside. 

you were still marveling over the instrument, turning it over in your hands while taking it in. from what you remembered, this was a pretty standard guitar. the wood was a warm brown, and it had all six silvery strings connected still. you sat down on the carpet in front of your couch, balancing the guitar on your thighs. you were aware of joel as he entered the living room behind you, settling into one of the chairs you had on the other side of the room.

he was quiet as he watched you get comfortable with the guitar, his brown eyes sweeping over your figure. your head was bent to the side, your hair falling in slight waves across your face as you studied where to put your fingers on the neck. he could see you biting your bottom lip as you concentrated, and he had to stealthy adjust himself in the chair as he watched. god, he thought. you looked so beautiful. 

his thoughts were interrupted by the loudest, most out of tune noise coming from you and the guitar. he had to fight off the urge to cover his ears, but then he wouldn’t have heard the sound of your laughter that followed quickly after, and that was something he never wanted to miss. his eyes were already on yours when you lifted your head to look at him, a sheepish smile on your face. “clearly i don’t know what i’m doing. your turn?” 

he hadn’t played the guitar in years, but he would be lying if he said his fingers weren’t itching to at least hold it again. he rubbed his palms against his jean clad thighs before standing up and taking the guitar from your outstretched hands. for some reason, he was nervous to play in front of you. he wanted it to be good, to be perfect, but with years of not practicing and with no idea how maintained this guitar was, he really couldn’t do much besides try. 

joel tested the guitar in his grip, absentmindedly strumming his fingers quietly while he fiddled with the pegs to tune it. and you sat there on your carpet, stars in your eyes as you watched his shoulders relax ever so slightly. you saw his foot tapping against the floor as he strummed, and it wasn’t a song you recognized but it immediately became your new favorite. 

he played for a lot longer than you anticipated, his eyes closing softly as his fingers worked the neck of the guitar. you wished in this moment that you had a camera, some way to capture the moment. you’ve never seen joel so relaxed, so in his element. his foot, tapping away against your floor. his hands, holding the guitar with a level of gentleness you weren’t expecting. his head, slowly bobbing along to the chords he played. the sunset was filtering through your window, casting him in an orangish glow. 

and your heart ached, thinking about the man before you who once dreamed of making a career out this. he was talented enough, that was for damn sure. you could easily imagine him somewhere up on a stage, holding the same guitar and preforming the same exact way. you wondered if he’d ever sing in front of you, but you didn’t want to push your luck. this alone was enough for you. 

the music eventually drifted away softly, joel’s fingers coming to rest as he strummed it one last time. he cleared out his throat when he finished, looking a little shy, but you weren’t having it. “joel, that was amazing.” you gushed, fighting the urge to clap for him. 

“s’nothin’ special,” he muttered, but you swore the tips of his cheeks turned a shade of light pink from the compliment. 

“that’s bullshit and you know it,” your tone was argumentative back, not wanting him to diminish his talents. you sat forward on your knees, clasping your hands together. “will you please teach me something, joel? anything? one singular basic chord?” you begged, giving him your biggest eyes and playful pout. 

“you’re almost worse than ellie is when she wants something.” he teased, rolling his head back on his neck before standing up to come sit behind you on the couch. his legs spread out, and from the corner of your eye you could see his thighs strain against his jeans. oh lord. 

“i’m taking that as a compliment. that girl is so headstrong and i love it,” you shuffled back so that your back was pressed against the couch, crossing your legs over the other again so that you could rest the guitar against your lap. you gave an experimental strum, and since joel worked on tuning it, the noise that came out was much more pleasant than your attempt earlier. 

“course you would,” the man behind you muttered, and you shot him a grin over your shoulder before adjusting your hands on the instrument. he leaned forward slightly, keeping an eye on your hands and not the way your shirt dipped down the front of your chest slightly. your skin was more exposed, and he could see a constellation of freckles littering your skin. fuck, but he wanted to kiss every single one of them. 

with a sigh, joel began telling you where to place your fingers along the neck for specific chords. he was patient, watching carefully as you figured them out with his help. every time you correctly struck the right chord, it made him grin. he liked seeing you so excited over this mundane activity. the way you were always so enthusiastic, so bright, it just drew him in like a moth to the light. he couldn’t help it. 

you had shifted away from the couch slightly, your back hunched over the instrument as you did you best to play it. you had picked up the simple chords pretty easily, but you were struggling with getting your finger placement correct on the last one joel gave you. joel kept telling you how easy this one was, too, which had started to frustrate you. the man’s hands were easily twice the size of your own, of course he would think it was easy. and you said as much to joel, too, who only chuckled in response. 

“know you can do it, sugar.” he encouraged quietly, scooting over on the couch so that his legs almost bracketed your body. he leaned forward, pulling your upper body back a bit from its slouch as he moved to help you. “keep your arm like this, and then stretch this finger as much as you can. you can move your wrist a little, too.” his rough hands were soon on top of your own, his applying a little more pressure so that he could guide your finger to the correct position. 

finally, you were able to hit the chord right, and you cheered for yourself as you strummed it a couple more times. joel’s hand had slide up your arm gently, resting on the top of your left shoulder while you played. he was still crouched over slightly, but when you turned your head to look at him, you were shocked with how close his face was to yours. 

now that you were facing him though, you could revel in the way his breath was hitting the spot on your neck just right, how it sent goosebumps down your arms and a shiver to your spine. if you tilted your head slightly, you’d bump his nose with your own. your eyes jumped to his, your hand gripping the neck of the guitar so tightly you worried that you were going to snap it. “joel,” you whispered, soft breaths parting from your lips as it opened slightly. 

his dark eyes met yours, and that was it.

you weren’t too sure who moved first. if it was you, dropping the guitar from your lap while you twisted up onto your knees in front of him. if it was him, the hand on your shoulder moving to rest at the base of your neck, squeezing it slightly as he guided you up to his mouth. joel’s thumb caressed your skin softly, and you felt yourself go weak in the knees.  

his mouth slanted across yours, and the feeling of his stubble scratching against your face made you whimper into his mouth softly. his hand tightened around your neck, using the leverage to pull you up from your knees, while his other hand guided you by your hip to straddle one of his legs on the couch. your hands went from his shoulders to his hair to cupping the sides of his face. you could feel him grinning against your lips.

you’ve been kissed before but kissing joel was an entirely new experience. you have never done something that felt so right, so good. you never wanted this to stop. 

your legs adjusted your weight on his thigh, and you felt joel’s grip on your waist tighten as he pressed you down harder. you could feel the rough denim through your thin linen pants, and when joel moved his hand forward, your hip followed in his grip as he rocked you against his thigh. this was a new experience, however. the feeling of his solid thigh pressed against your core, and you suddenly felt much, much hotter. 

“joel,” you whispered again, though it came out in more of a whimper against his lips. his hand rocked you against him again, and yours slid to hold his shoulders and you tested the movement yourself, dragging your hips up his thigh and then back down. another whimper emitted from your lips, and you had half a mind to be embarrassed about the noise, but you were too caught up in the feeling. 

“i know, baby.” his voice was rough against your mouth, and he lowered his lips against yours again, this time angling his head to the side to deepen the kiss. joel tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth, making you gasp softly at the hint of pain before his tongue covered the spot. he took the opportunity of your open mouth to move his tongue in against yours, and you basically crumpled in his lap at how demanding he was as he kissed you. 

your hips had started to steadily move against his thigh on your own, but his big, rough hand was still resting on your hip, his fingers digging little half-moon bruises into your skin as he helped you press a little harder. joel gave your throat one last little squeeze before he moved to the hem of your t-shirt, his fingers slipping underneath ever so slightly. you could feel the calluses on his hands as he trailed them across your stomach lightly, and your breath caught in your throat as he brushed his thumb over the material of your bra, right where your nipple would be. 

you were so overwhelmed by everything joel - his taste, his touch, his smell. you didn’t want to, but you felt yourself struggling to catch a breath, so you pulled away from his mouth slightly, brushing his nose with yours gently. he could feel the little pants coming from your mouth as you exhaled, could hear the smallest of whimpers riding along those exhales as well. everything about you in this moment was working for him, so well that he was trying to think of something ridiculous to stop himself from coming in his damn jeans like a teenager. 

“god, sugar,” he said lowly, trailing his nose across your jaw and down your neck before settling his lips on the base of your throat. the feeling made you giggle softly, but it quickly turned into a louder moan as he started to suck on your skin. “you’re ridin’ my thigh so well, huh?” the compliment had you blushing even more than before. 

you never would’ve imagined that joel, quiet, stoic, joel, would be talking to you like one of the heroes in your romance novels. it was better than anything you could have ever thought of. 

“it feels so good, joel,” you whined, sliding your hand from his shoulder to cup the back of his head. you let your fingers dig into his skin, pulling on the small strands of his hair lightly as you bucked your hips against him. he let out a low groan against your neck, his fingers underneath your shirt pinching the spot his thumb just brushed against. 

he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “fuck, i knew you’d be too good to resist. you look so pretty, takin’ what you want from me.” he nipped at your neck, grinning against your skin as you cried out. letting go of your hip, he moved his hand under your shirt with the other one, raising it just enough so that he could see the black bra you were wearing. “can i move this down?” he asked so politely, pressing a small kiss against the skin he just bit.

considering the position you were in, the pleasure this man was making you feel by simply kissing you, you were inclined to let him do whatever he so pleased with you. all you could do was nod your head, give him a small “mhm,” as your eyes started to flutter shut from the tingling sensation happening low in your stomach. 

you heard joel give you a quiet “thank you, baby,” before his hands tugged down the front of your bra. he didn’t bother pulling your shirt off, he didn’t bother taking the bra off entirely. instead, he managed to pull them low enough to have your tits spill over the top, and he bit back a groan before he lowered his mouth to take one of your nipples into his mouth. 

the feeling of his warm mouth against your sensitive skin had you arching your back, pressing your front closer against joel. he slid one of his hands to your lower back, his skin rough against yours, as he encouraged you to move your hips against him. your hand in his hair gripped tightly, practically holding joel against your chest as he nipped and sucked. 

your inner thighs were starting to shake from the movements, and his name was leaving your mouth like a prayer. it only encouraged him more, and he started to softly bounce his leg while you moved against it, giving you even more friction. you felt the heat from your stomach pool to your center, and you weren’t even able to form a coherent thought anymore. you couldn’t help your eyes from squeezing shut, couldn’t help your mouth from falling open, couldn’t help the borderline pornographic moans that emitted from your lips. 

“that’s it, sugar. gonna make yourself cum against my thigh, huh?” joel asked, pulling away from your chest as he watched you with hooded eyes. you were completely lost in the pleasure, could feel yourself soak through your panties with how wet you were becoming. you had never cum like this before, but god this would definitely not be the last time. that was a sentiment that you both had shared. 

“fuck, joel,” you squeaked out, increasing your hips movements against his thigh. his hand on your back gave you support, and he pinched your nipples roughly once more before he gripped your throat and brought your mouth back against his. this kiss was harder, messier, and more urgent than the kiss before. your teeth bumped against his, you felt your lips getting wet with spit, and fuck but you loved it. joel was usually so in control, so calm, and seeing him become so rushed, so frantic, it nearly pushed you to your orgasm alone. 

the thing that did it for you, though, was joel pulling away slightly, your noses brushing together as he offered you quiet words of encouragement. “you’re doing such a good job, just like that, baby. look at you, makin’ a mess on my thigh.” his breath invaded your space, making you gasp as you fought to get air as his hand tightened around your neck. he kissed you once more, just a gentle press of his lips against yours, and you lost it. 

your body curled in on itself as you came, white hot heat flooding your senses as you fell into joel’s chest with a loud cry. you were gripping him tightly, anchoring yourself to him as your body trembled. he held you tightly, brushing your hair back from your sweaty forehead and rubbing his hand up and down your back. he was grinning the entire time, his ego raising indefinitely at the fact that he had been able to make you feel this good. 

your face was pressed in the crook of his neck, and you were surprised to find genuine tears lingering in your eyes. that knowledge had you giggling, and you must have been delirious because you couldn’t stop it from happening. joel tilted his head back. “what the hell are you laughin’ at right now?” he asked, incredulously. he had never had a girl laugh after being with him. 

you could hear the slight panic in his voice, which made you laugh even more, but you sat back. “you made me cry,” you admitted to him, running your fingers underneath your eyes to wipe away the stray tears. joel let out a snort, which had you laughing once again. his thumbs moved to replace your fingers, gently moving across your skin until the wet was cleared up. he leaned up, placing a kiss gently on your forehead. “you okay?” he asked, softly caressing your skin with his hands. 

you bit down on your bottom lip, feeling more than okay, and you gave him a quick nod before taking his mouth with yours. the kiss was soft, but you were well intended to give joel the same amount of affection. your hand had just trailed down his chest, stopping at the waistband of his jeans, when you heard your front door open. 

“hello?” ellie’s voice rang out from the entryway, forcing you and joel apart. you had never moved so quickly, swinging your leg off of his thigh and fixing your top to cover your chest once again. you were still kneeling on the couch near joel when ellie stomped her way into the living room, giving the two of you a weird look. “why are you guys sitting so close to each other?” 

“she had somethin’ in her eye,” joel’s response was so quick, it almost made you snort. “what the hell are you doin’ here, kid? and didn’t i teach you how to knock first?” his irritation was palpable, which you found funny. poor guy was probably seconds away from coming in his pants. 

“geez, sorry. i saw that some of the other guys were back early, and you weren’t home so i figured you’d be here.” she explained, holding her hands up in surrender. joel pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, trying to get his breathing under control. he had no right to be mad at ellie, and it wasn’t that he was actually mad… he was just trying not to embarrass himself in front of you. 

“why’d you figure that, els?” you asked, loving the fact that ellie knew joel well enough that he would come over here if he wasn’t at home first. even if you guys had just made out on your couch, you still liked the validation that joel maybe, possibly liked you back. 

“where else would he be? he literally never leaves the house unless it’s to come over here, and he hasn’t shut up about you since you first met.” she threw herself down in one of the chairs across the room from you, completely oblivious to the glare joel was shooting her way. 

“oh really?” your voice was teasing as you turned your head to joel, who easily fixated his glare on you. you wiggled on your knees slightly next to him, which caused his eyes to darken. 

“don’t you ‘oh, really?’ me like that. is this how it’s gonna be? the two of you gangin’ up on me from now on? because i don’t think i like it very much.” he slouched back against the couch, folding his arms across his chest. 

“yes, you do.” you and ellie chirped back at the same time, giving each other a grin as joel shook his head. he muttered something under his breath before standing up, adjusting his jeans as he did. ellie hopped up from her chair, too, rubbing her hands on her stomach. “can we get something from the tipsy bison? i’m starving.” 

“sure, kid.” joel responded, ruffling her hair as she passed by him. she didn’t even bother to wave goodbye before she moved out the front door, leaving joel and you alone again. he glanced at the door until it was shut before turning back your way, placing his hand under your chin to lift your gaze up to him.

“we’ll talk about this later, yeah?” he asked, his brown eyes soft as they focused on your face. you simply nodded, finding yourself shifting up on your knees so that you could kiss him one more time. joel sighed as you did, nipping at your bottom lip before pulling away. he bid you a goodnight before he followed ellie out of your house. 

sinking back into the couch cushions, you couldn’t help but let yourself freak out for a moment. never in your wildest dreams did you anticipate your evening taking a turn like this, and you were looking forward to seeing joel again so that you could talk. hopefully, talking isn’t the only thing we do, you thought, the grin on your face wider than ever. 

after kissing joel miller, it was decided. you were falling harder and harder for that man, and you didn’t mind it a single bit. 

tag list *:·ﾟ@yyiikes @farintonorth @scarletsloveletter @miss-celestial-being @thatgingefromtheinternet @javicstories @marianita195 @feliciab1990

[luvmelikelluvu]

Behind the Bench

Chapter one - The Match

Ophelia Bennett let out a deep sigh, tossing her keys into the bowl by her door as she kicked off her shoes. She collapsed onto the couch, legs stretching out as she unlocked her phone, ready to zone out. It was one of those days, the kind where everything felt just a little bit harder than it should.

Scrolling through social media wasn’t doing it for her, so she flicked open the dating app she hadn't touched in weeks. Profile after profile of men posing next to fish, gym selfies, or poorly lit bathroom mirrors. Her thumb moved on autopilot until a profile caught her eye.

A cute guy, tall, maybe a little goofy-looking in a very endearing way, his name? A little wired Kirby she stopped, blinking at the screen.

"Kirby?" she muttered to herself, smirking as she swiped right, fully intending to find out.

She hadn’t even made it to the kitchen to grab a drink when her phone buzzed with a new match notification. Her smile widened. He matched me back? She tapped on the notification and wasted no time starting the conversation.

Sure, here’s the updated version of the conversation where they talk about the video game character instead of Pokémon:

Ophelia Be honest, did your parents name you after the video game character?

Kirby Damn, I wish it was either of those. My parents went with 'just because.' But if I inhale everything in sight like Kirby from the game, does that win me any points?

Ophelia laughed, her bad day starting to melt away. She settled deeper into the couch and fired back.

Ophelia Depends... do you get to roll around in a ball and flatten everything? Because that's where the real points are.

Kirby I mean, I could try.

Ophelia Well, I'd pay to see that.

Kirby I'd make sure to do it in front of an audience then.

Ophelia a man who’s not afraid of a little public humiliation then

Ophelia was already in a better mood. This was what she needed—a little light flirting, something fun and harmless to take her mind off the day. It was just supposed to be a distraction, but now her fingers hovered over her phone, eager for his next reply.

Kirby, meanwhile, had pulled his legs up onto the couch, getting more comfortable. Kirby absentmindedly smiled at his phone. This was the best conversation he'd had on the app in… well, ever.

Kirby So how’s your night going other than swiping right on me😏

Ophelia Well I just got home from a long day of pretending to be a functional adult. now im being lazy lying on my couch, debating whether or not to get up and find something to eat but I’m pretty sure I’ll just stay lying down

Kirby same here been here for an hour and haven't moved. I keep thinking about getting up but probably wont

Ophelia special kind of lazy convince yourself that getting up is impossible were twining in that 😙

Kirby You get it it’s a whole mindset

Ophelia The fact that my fridge is basically empty I’d need to actually cook something is also why i don't want to get up

Kirby tough no breed or anything

Ophelia All I’ve got some ramen noodles

Ophelia’s day started as usual, but there was something a little different lingering in the air this morning an extra hint of excitement. She’d spent most of the night messaging Kirby, and though she didn’t know much about him yet, it was enough to put a smile on her face as she got ready for work.

Her morning routine went on like normal, grabbing something to drink and heading to the clinic. She worked with neurodiverse children helping those with ADHD, dyslexia, and other challenges to navigate their life. The work was intense but rewarding, and today was no different. She had back-to-back appointments scheduled and would hardly have a moment to breathe until lunch.

By the time noon rolled around, she needed a break more than ever. Her day had been productive and draining, the kind of work that left her proud but tired. Stepping into the small, quiet break room, she pulled out her phone and smiled at the unread message from Kirby.

Kirby Still alive or has work killed you

Ophelia Barely hanging on wby

Kirby Yeah just trying to survive over here whats work done to have you barely staying alive

She paused for a moment, realizing that neither of them had mentioned what they actually did for work. They had been messaging since last night, and it had been a break from everything else. She liked that they hadn’t gotten into too many personal details yet—it felt like they were just enjoying the ease of getting to know each other in their own time.

Ophelia Lots of clients keeping me alive is probably my smoothie

Kirby Been non-stop for me to but luckily my days short today

She could relate. This was refreshing, just a little back-and-forth to brighten her day. She glanced at the clock, realising her lunch break was already half over.

Ophelia leaned back in her chair and stretched, scrolling through their messages. She felt herself relax as they exchanged a few more texts. Nothing too deep, just updates on their day—what they were eating for lunch, how tired they were, little things like that. It was a good distraction.

The afternoon stretched out before her, filled with more therapy sessions and meetings. One of her favourite students, a girl with dyslexia named Emily, had made huge step in her reading, and it made Ophelia’s heart swell with pride to see her progress. By the time the day wrapped up, Ophelia felt both tired and satisfied.

Once she got home Ophelia sent a message to Kirby.

Ophelia Made it to the end of the day 🤗

Kirby Luckily what’s the plan for the rest of the night I’m thinking food. Lots of food.”

Ophelia Solid plan I might do the same

She couldn’t help but laugh at how easy it was to talk to him. It felt natural, no pressure. She didn’t know when or if they’d meet up in person, but for now she was happy with this.

[riddles-n-games]

THL Kiss Drabbles-Pt. 1

Warm By The Hearth

A voice spoke, on the other side of the fireplace. “It’s me, Heiress.”

Jameson. That should have been a relief. Knowing it was him, I should have felt safer. But somehow, as I locked my hand around the candlestick on the mantel, the last thing I felt was safe.

I triggered the passage. “I take it you saw the interview?”

Jameson stepped into my room. “Not your best showing.” He cracked a quick smile.

I waited for him to say something about that kiss. “Jameson, I didn’t-” He didn’t give me a chance to finish because next thing I knew, his hand was in my hair and his lips were pressed against mine in a soft but urgent kiss. I blinked; he caught me by surprise. His free hand had made its way to my waist, pulling me closer to him and I felt the tips of his fingers lightly make contact with my lower back. 

Again, he managed to shock me. I knew the way he kissed; he didn’t do gentle or sweet, so why was this one different? What was he thinking? This wasn’t a Jameson Hawthorne kiss, this was—it was— I didn’t have the words and maybe it was best not to think so I simply closed my eyes and let myself get lost in the kiss. 

Not long after, he let go of me and for a moment, I was too dazed to say anything. All I knew was that I was probably flushed and I was gaping like a fish. My fingers went to my mouth. Did I really just get kissed twice in one night? What’s your angle here? “Jame-” This time he put a light finger on my lips, silencing me and it felt like it burned. Like his kiss. I didn’t dare move it.

“I know what happened, Heiress. I watched it. Everything. Gray may have done that to stop you then because he felt he had no other choice but he still likes you. Just because he attempts to hide it, rather poorly might I add, doesn’t mean I don’t see it. And you like him back; I’m not sure how much but don’t pretend that you don’t. For what it’s worth, I just want you to know that I like you, Avery. Even if that means nothing.”

My heart stopped. Surely I was hearing words: Jameson Winchester Hawthorne admitting he had feelings for me out loud? The world was probably close to ending. And I still hadn’t said anything.

He withdrew his hand and moved back against the wall but I caught his wrist in my hands, tugging at him. You’re not getting away that easy. Jameson looked up and I almost wanted to look away from the intensity of his gaze so I started talking, “I can’t tell you he means nothing. I do feel something for him, I know that but it’s not like what we have. And I can’t say I know what we have but I feel it in the same way you do; like the thrill of a puzzle, an adrenaline rush, the feeling of winning. I want you, Jameson. Maybe I can’t say that wholeheartedly right now, but if the time comes, I won’t let you go.”

Jameson smiled and then tugged me back toward him. When I was close enough, I brushed my lips light against his and he leaned forward, sealing the kiss. Once he pulled away, he whispered in my ear, “I can take that. Now back to the game.”

As soon as he straightened up, he spoke up again, “A girl named Elle finds a card on her doorstep. The front of the envelope says To, the back says Elle. Between them, inside the-” While I listened, I felt a smile tugging at my lips. His eyes were sparkling and there was that infectious excitement in his voice.

We were back. The game was no longer on hold and there was another riddle to solve. Game on.

[deityoftherain]

red life hair dye - Smalletho DL Fanfic

Rating: Teen

Relationship: M/M

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Status: Completed Oneshot

Word Count: 1,261

Summary: Joel broke his legs after failing a bucket clutch during an improved game of fishing rod chain, killing both himself and Etho through their soul bound. Etho respawns with Joel in The Relation Ship, only to wake up to Joel trying to redye his hair red as quickly as he can before they go to retrieve their precious, dropped items.

This fic was inspired by @iandoubt https://www.tumblr.com/iandoubt/761789153673347072/when-the-boat-boys-turned-red-joel-probably-dyed

Full fanfic underneath the cut! Please reblog, leave kudos on the AO3 fic slash notes/likes here on Tumblr, comment either place, and etc if you enjoy the story :D

They were being stupid, Etho knew this. Joining the fishing rod chain was impulsive, silly, and foolish. Considering their limited, shared lives, it was even more dangerous! Still, Etho and his soulmate, Joel, participated in the chaos, and it was so. much. fun!

It was way less fun to feel the phantom break of his legs before being pulled to his bed back at The Relation Ship for a respawn. Etho blinked rapidly as he came to, urging his vision to focus on the wooden ceiling and his ears to stop ringing. He sat up as he gained back his senses, met with Joel muttering to himself and rummaging around in various chests.

“What are you doing?” Etho inquired, stretching his limbs and massaging his legs to get the blood flow back to them. “We need to go get our things before they despawn.” “Our things can wait a moment,” Joel responded curtly, but Etho didn’t detect frustration with him, so he didn’t take it personally. “Someone will pick it up, and they will put it all in a chest if they know what’s good for them.” Etho caught a murderous gleam in Joel’s bloodlust-heavy eyes as his voice lowered an octave. “They’ll regret crossing me if they don’t.”

“Crossing us,” Etho corrected, tone level, and Joel shot him a pleased, almost warm grin before going back to what he was doing.

Etho didn’t want to admit how Joel could so easily encourage the butterflies in his stomach to flap their wings feverishly and cause his heart to beat a little faster. It was times like this where he was grateful he wore a mask.

Joel retrieved some red flowers– tulips, Etho guessed, or maybe roses, but he wasn’t a flower expert– and a bowl from their chests, promptly plucking the flowers of their petals. He took those petals and grinded them against the bowl’s edges, turning the flowers into dye.

Etho pulled out his communicator– the only thing that didn’t drop when they died– as Joel took the hair dye and expertly went over the yellow streak with red, checking to see if there were any reactions to their death in the chat. More honestly, he was just waiting on his soulmate, not wanting to go back there defenseless and without him.

Joel’s voice sliced its way into Etho’s thoughts after what was otherwise silence between them. “You should let me dye some of your hair too, Etho.”

Breath caught in his throat at how Joel pronounced his name, and it took everything he had in him to stay composed and nod his answer. When did something so simple like “Eefo” coming from his soulmate’s lips affect him like this? Like if Joel was whispering sweet nothings?  Like Joel was exploring his body with his hands as they made out– Okay, stopping that train of thought.

Etho knew he was one of the Reds now, but he didn’t remember that being Red enhanced his feelings this much! Especially non-murderous feelings such as this! Augh, he felt like a delusional schoolboy who just brushed hands with his crush.

It was probably just the side effects of being soulbound to Joel. Etho poorly tried to convince himself. Nothing more. Probably. Maybe.

Joel mindlessly mixed around the dye as he approached Etho from behind. He stood taller than Etho was now, but that was only because Etho still sat on the bed he respawned in. Joel hummed to himself in consideration before asking him, “Do you only want a streak– like me, we could match– or the whole head? Or something else?” “Uh,” Etho responded dumbly as he imagined himself in the mirror, visualizing what he looked like in his head without actually seeing himself. Etho gently tugged on what he had been told are called “curtain bangs”, but he didn’t actually know the terminology with any certainty. “Maybe my bangs?” “Good choice, Etho,” Joel approved, and Etho warmed at the minimal praise. 

Joel didn’t waste any more time, grabbing a fistful of Etho’s hair with his left hand. He tilted Etho’s head back before using his right hand to apply the red dye to Etho’s bangs.

Etho sucked in his lips, glancing back at his soulmate and hoping Joel couldn’t hear how worked up he effortlessly made him. He was sure that, if Joel knew, he would never hear the end of it. It would be a long rest-of-this-life if Joel discovered his feelings and didn’t reciprocate. All Etho had to do was focus on the game, and maybe he’ll make it out with his dignity intact.

“And,” Joel drew out the word “and” before announcing, “done! Look at that! Now we match.” “And we found true love,” Etho referenced something Joel had said early on in their soulmate-ship. He spun around on his ass to face Joel properly, giving him a smile he hoped reached his eyes enough to be clear.

Joel snorted at the comment as he set the hair dye stuff aside, flicking a bit of Etho’s hair. “A’course we did! You wouldn’t be my soulmate if you weren’t as blummin’ amazing as me.” Etho hadn’t meant to speak, let alone sound so vulnerable, but he questioned, “You think I’m amazing?” Something about Joel softened in a way he didn’t often display, at least not with others, not when there was a game to win. 

“Of course I do,” Joel murmured, reaching out to practically cup Etho’s face. The tips of his fingers fiddled with the straps of Etho’s mask. Etho could feel Joel’s warm breath on his face. “You’re rather impressive, Etho. Incredible, even. Why else would I wear your face on my chest?” Both of them simultaneously glanced over to the silly T-shirt Joel made of Etho’s face that hung off one of the posts of Joel’s bed. It had gotten dirty the other day, and Joel had yet to clean it, so he put it in a noticeable spot so he would remember. As if in sync, both burst out into a fit of giggles.

Joel slumped forward, resting his forehead against Etho’s shoulder. “It’s going to take forever to run back to the pre-pool party, especially since we have to be extra careful around mobs without sufficient armor or weapons.”

“It’s a chance we’ll have to take, I suppose.” Etho murmured in response, but he didn’t dare move. He knew they were starting to take too long here, and that the others wouldn’t wait around with their things forever, but Etho couldn’t find it in himself to move away from Joel’s touch.

Just as Etho grew used to the pressure of Joel’s forehead against his shoulder, Joel turned his head. Joel’s soft lips brushed against Etho’s neck, causing a chill to run down Etho’s spine. 

Etho still didn’t move, nor did he try to push Joel away. Joel pressed a kiss or several against Etho’s neck, practically nipping him with his teeth, but that's where it stopped. Joel didn’t give him anymore, despite how desperately Etho ached for it.

“Race you there,” Joel declared, pulling away from Etho one moment, and the other moment he was halfway off their boat.

Etho sat there for a skip of his heart, stunned. He reached a hand to the spot on his neck Joel touched, his cheeks beet red. They would have to address that later, once the session was called to a break, but, for now, Joel had the right idea. They had to get their stuff, and maybe snag a kill while they were at it.

[moochii-daisies]

2015.05.

- 18+, Minors DNI

Warnings - Content Contains: Dark themes, tw: pill mention, SH mention, unstable mental health, cussing, smoking, drinking, Lacey and MC straight up throw hands, tension, drama, conflict, sexual/suggestive things occur (but not smut - technically) - everyone is Going Through It. There is Angst haha. (MC is very sensitive).

Sidnotes: this was inspired by that run bts special episode where they wore cat ears and jimin was dancing and pretending to be sad/cry haha anyways - thank you for reading if you do and i hope you enjoy <3

Find the rest here!

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     Dance like no-one can see you sobbing on the dance floor.

    I mean - Dance like no-one is watching, right?

That's how the saying typically goes.

 

     I'm gonna come back to that later I promise. But there are still some spots missing between now and then. The little things are important.

     Once I had made a full recovery, Jungkook made me promise that I would stay within his line of sight for all future ragers and game nights. I wanted to be playful about it, trying not to dwell on the few disjointed memories that remained after being drugged. But the look on his face made me pause, so I went with a humble nod instead. Feeling a little timid under the force of his atypical seriousness.

     The guys had theories that I had been given some kind of downer. One that mixed rather poorly with the alcohol I'd had. They bickered over technical differences between the ones they knew of and asked me for details on how it all felt. They were sensitive with their questions though, and very quickly learned to never do it in front of Jungkook or Yoongi.

Aw hell. Jungkook and Yoongi.

     The two never fought after that night but we (the entire household) almost wished that they would. Disdain was unnatural for JK's usually youthful demeanor. Just as much as shame was for Yoongi's typical stoicism. Both pairs of shoulders would square up in the presence of the other and as if on cue, everyone would begin to exchange glances that carried non-verbal messages. Sussing out the best way to prepare for any possibly impending brawls.

Lacey and I were each assigned, in a sense, to Jungkook and Yoongi, while the others would divvy themselves up. Assessing the best dynamics - which would change depending on various moods.

     It wasn't so bad that we couldn't all hang out together or anything like that. Our weekend plans still carried onward without a hitch and things at home felt relatively peaceful all things considered. The awkward tension between Yoongi and I wasn't gone, but it had been taken over by the more aggravated tension between him and Jungkook. Come to think of it - I saw so little of Yoongi that it was almost like the crackling intensity between us had disappeared. Almost. For the rest of that first year anyway.

Either way, the point remains the same - life carried on.

     And the guys made more than enough effort to ensure that I was -really- okay with the parties continuing.

     I said yes, of course.

     Maybe I should've said no. That I needed time to process things and to take at least a week off before getting back to it. I mean - maybe I would've, if I had known that's what I needed - but I didn't. Trying to forget what little I remembered was my only goal, and what better way was there to do that besides partying with my best friends? Well, there was one other way, but I'm getting to that.

     The second half of their first year at the house marched along, mostly at a snail's pace. Roadrunner moments rushed past us and turned into memories before we could even acknowledge that they had happened. (The knife night, Tae's "wine and painting" party, Jimin's 24 hour dance-a-thon, mushroom week - to name a few.)

     Lacey and I saw each other a whole lot less than we had been. Partly because she never came clean about what she told Jungkook exactly or what she remembered from that night. But it was mostly because of how much Yoongi had upped his PDA. It was to a degree that made us all wonder if he was doing it on purpose. Like he wanted us to see it.

He would lay in Lacey's lap on the living room couch or hold her in his. Someone's hand was always dipping down into places or holding onto places or pulling on places that made the other let out sounds too sensual to be appropriate in a shared space. During ragers we would exclusively see him holding her from behind. It got to the point where seeing Lacey without his arms wrapped around her like a backpack felt worrying instead of normal.

When any of us got the chance to ask how he was doing - he would hide his face behind Lacey's shoulder, muttering in a voice so low that she would have to relay his words to the rest of us. I don't think we saw him alone much after that, not for the rest of that first year at least.

Jimin and Hobi took to monitoring them around the house with weary looks. Snapping, "In your motherfuckin' ROOM bro!" whenever they stopped caring about where they were (which was often). Lacey would keep her head down, adjusting clothes and trailing behind Yoongi as he pulled her by the hand. He would mumble his bitter retorts just loud enough for Hobi and Jimin to hear. The sound distorted by his stomping down the stairs. Things like, "God forbid I touch my girlfriend in my own house." or "Kinda funny to be actin' like such fuckin' prudes when -". You know, things like that. Things that were mostly returned with eye rolls and unseen middle fingers.

     It was ironic enough to feel ridiculous - that Jungkook and I had become the "easy ones" in the household. It wasn't like we were any better about public displays of affection - we just never got truly grumpy after being told to cut it out.

     Regardless of that, we appreciated that we were no longer seen as the (only) "too touchy" couple and tried to see it as a silver lining.

     To say it came with better treatment from the others would be a stretch but not entirely a lie. There was one (1) more time that we got carried away but when it stopped happening completely, both Jimin and Hobi's teasing became lighthearted.

Joon, who usually relied on Yoongi for help, started going to JK instead. Something JK was elated by and took very, very seriously.

And Jin would come stand next to the front porch couch we'd curl up on in the mornings. Holding a bowl of cereal or his Sherlock pipe with one hand and placing his other onto Jungkook's shoulder. A small, stoned speech about us being "his golden children" always followed. There was one time in particular - when he stepped out front mid-yawn with a joint sticking out of the pipe's bowl.

     "You two...you little baby babies. I just, every day I think - 'wow', you're my -"

     "Golden children." Jungkook and I interjected in sync.

     "See? See how my golden eggs hatched into these - these two...just...spectacular beings? They grow up so fast I just..." Jin's attempt at speaking came to a halt so he could pluck up the joint and light it mid-air. Letting it dangle from the corner of his mouth after he had succeeded. Falling silent as he patted Jungkook on the shoulder with (we think?) pride.

     I personally believed that his lips were so plush - he could stick almost anything between them and it wouldn't fall. And we would test this belief whenever he'd pass out on the living room couch. With his arms crossed and back weirdly straight for being slightly reclined - it was hard to tell whether he was fully unconscious or just resting his eyes. Once, after Hobi had tucked the handle of our heaviest ladle in between Jin's slightly parted lips, Jin's eyes flew open in a glare and made Hobi shriek in surprise. Flailing his limbs as he whooped, like a spider had fallen down the back of his shirt. Jin didn't move from the couch but projected his voice at full volume to chase after Hobi.

"YAH - THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING? DO YOU THINK THAT BEAUTY REST IS A JOKE? YOU THINK I LOOK LIKE THIS FROM ONLY GETTING REGULAR SLEEP?" - JK and I were laughing so hard we stopped making noise, and lost all muscle control in our legs. We rolled on the floor, letting out intermittent gasps and smacking each other on the arm. The commotion caught Jin's attention, and he tucked his chin slightly to look down at us from his spot on the couch. Deep pink pillows twitched into a tiny smile as soon as he realized that he was the reason for our laugh attack.

It wasn't enough to call it favoritism per se, but it was enough to be -something-. And although we wouldn't admit it, we did both like being seen as -

     "Good babies.".

Those were the last words we got from Jin that morning before he turned on his heel to go back to playing games in his room. A skunky smell swirled through the air behind him as he left.

     If I hadn't been privy to witnessing it firsthand, I would have never believed that Jin, Namjoon and Tae were stoners.

     But it wasn't a bad thing. Hell, if anything, the generally laidback energy from them helped keep the house balanced. Even after that game night, it felt like everyone kept growing closer. And it was largely because of the different roles each person played. It was understood that part of what we contributed to the house, wasn't anything material.

It was our dedication to functioning as a team.

Because we weren't just roommates who shared a living space, we were learning how to live - together.

     Jin and Namjoon primarily took on parental roles and they committed to them more than anyone else in the house. They stepped into them like it was natural, without question. Both doing such a good job at fulfilling the roles that nobody ever thought to ask why they did in the first place.

     "High mom and dad." Was a greeting we used with them often. Red eyes, a slow chuckle and a windshield wiper pretending to be a laugh always got the rest of us giggling, on the move to get on their level. In a weird way, it helped us all calm down to see them like that. Like a reminder that nothing bad would happen from being less high strung for a bit. A few of us got wound up easier than the rest, (Jimin, Jungkook, Hobi and I) and if Jin's blazed mothering couldn't settle us down, Joon and Jin would switch places.

It was kind of insane.

Without even glancing at each other, they would both move in unison so that Joon could work his magic in ~Dad Mode~.  Whether someone needed hugs, pep talks, deep conversation or a shoulder to lean on - he was a hit in the house. Some of us even called him "Great Teacher" instead (his stoned rants on personal philosophies were some of mine and Yoongi's favorites) - you could always count on Joonie for a life lesson or insightful anecdote. Though, he was so much more than that.

  The point was - that if anyone in the house was upset, their sixth senses would tingle as a summons. Jin usually had a blissed out look on his face upon their arrival and liked to pose dramatically against the closest doorframe. Uttering out a strangely seductive, "Hey." once he'd been noticed. Joon would stand behind him - feet wider than his shoulders and hands held in front of his body. Like a bodyguard that used snuggling, heartfelt stories and warm food as an attack. Nobody ever stayed upset there for long, at least, not usually.

     And if Jin and Joon were the primary parents of the house, then Tae was more like our resident's super cool stoner aunt. Not necessarily joining in on any trouble, but definitely allowing it. Usually with a coy expression that barely contained his excitement and ok, ok - he did more than just allow it - he absolutely adored encouraging it. But he wouldn't leave anyone to suffer punishment, especially if they were alone. Normally, if anyone got caught causing trouble - he'd appear from around a corner with an expression I'm sure he intended to convey wisdom.

After making his presence known, we could trust that he would step up to prevent anyone from getting reamed by others. Explaining theatrically that HE was the one true culprit all along. Like we were in the middle of a murder mystery (a la "Professor Plum in the library with a wrench"). And the only caveat for his rescue was - that the punishment had to genuinely be unfair. If it wasn't (he always knew when), he'd come around the corner with a sympathetic expression. Using an old cigarette holder to puff at whatever was left of his joint. Now that I think about it, we never saw him with a full one.

For being quite direct and honest, it was impressive that Tae was able to maintain a sense of mystery. Maybe it was because he could not be peer pressured by others. The decisions he made were his and his alone. You'd think he'd be less neutral and a little more chaotic, but he abided by his own moral values like they were a sworn oath. I always admired that about him.

And maybe it was because he knew that he couldn't always save us - but he had a habit of keeping some form of candy in his pockets to give out as consolation. Fishing one out and placing it on whoever was pissed off as a peace token. Surprisingly (or maybe unsurprisingly) - it always worked. Deer eyes would peer at you with curiosity and heartbreaking sincerity. A single curly lock of hair, so dark brown that it was almost black, would fall just so in front of his face, and if the absurdity of his good looks didn't give you pause - the impromptu performances he would come up with sure as hell would.

     He recited the entirety of a Robert Frost poem one time.

It was the last time we broke the rule. Jimin was going off on Jungkook and I for making out in the kitchen pantry (- ...there was a good reason, ok? Ok - you want the reason? Here it is - it was because we really, really wanted to. So there.).

      "I - Get. It. All right? You're both super hot and if I was in the mix? I can't say I wouldn't be right up in there with ya but our - RICE - is in there guys. Do you want sweaty dick rice? - Shut up Kookie. And it's not just about the rice! This is about sooo much more than 'just the rice'. You little shits, stop laughing, I swear to god. Come with me on a journey, will you? I wanna take you on a journey. A day in MY life, yeah? So focus, dammit. I'll set the scene. Imagine you want a snack - Jungkook shut up - Imagine you want a snack. It's been a long day. You're hungry! A natural occurrence in the human body. This much is well known. We all KNOW this to be true. Except for babies probably. Who knows what they actually know. But it's okay though, because YOU are not a baby. YOU are an adult. But hang on - what are you going to eat? You're at a loss. Perhaps there is no answer. You almost give up hope. And then it hits you. A stroke of genius. An incredible whim of creative intelligence. You have a brilliant idea. So you go downstairs - Kookie, shut the fuck up - you're excited! You can't even REMEMBER the last time you ate. And all you can think about, are the glorious snacks that are one door away. Just ONE door is all that stands between you and a happy stomach. And then you open that door - the pantry door of OUR home mind you, as an innocent man. Only to see, instead of snacks, two of your best friends BONKING LIKE TEENAGE RABBITS ON TOP OF YOUR -"

     Jimin's infuriated stream of consciousness was interrupted by Tae grabbing hold of him and tilting him back in a dip. A voice like silk.

     "I met a lady from the South who said..." - He crooned the opening line to "New Hampshire" by Robert Frost (which we later learned was his longest poem) before pausing for dramatic effect.

      With a flick of Tae's wrist - Jimin was flung away from him, still attached by clasped hands. In response to the motion, Jimin proceeded to do the most pissed off double pirouette I had ever seen. Gracefully landing, with a sour lemon look aimed at his partner. Tae paid this no mind and shot us a boxy smile instead. Picking his poetic performance back up and leading a begrudging Jimin in his improvised dance. Suffice to say, our apology was accepted once they were done and Jungkook and I never used the pantry as back up again. Maybe you just had to be there, but I'm telling you - it worked.

     And if Tae was our reefer-loving auntie, then Hobi was our designated wine one. Liquor wasn't up Hobi's alley but, he'd met a sommelier at a work party and very quickly became obsessed with the world of wine.

He'd come home from work with his own bottle of red (white in the summertime) and pour himself a generous glass with a hand on his hip. Emulating the same energy as a woman going through a stressful, messy divorce (but one who was going to win). Getting cornered by a wine drunk Hobi meant getting a lecture on self-love. If he caught Lacey, Jimin, Tae or I while we were also drunk - crying through a returned self-love speech was inevitable. There was one time that he got Joon to do it and to this day, we will not let him live it down. "You're a buttercup, daisy. Got me wishin' you were my lady" was the accidental rap that Namjoon had professed to Hobes. Both had their eyes closed and bottom lips bit, moving their heads to a beat that none of us had access to. Jungkook swears that Hobi even got Yoongi to give a couple speeches before they moved, but Yoongi said he would only reveal the truth after 63 years - we believed Jungkook.

     While it may sound sweet, these lectures usually meant an astoundingly strong grip on your shoulder and Hobi pointing the index finger of his hand, the one holding the wine glass, into your face with a frown. We could all recite his speech by heart within that first year.

     "NO. You don't understand," He would drop to a whisper as wine sloshed up the sides of his glass, "YOU are special. YOU are important. And don't even get me STARTED on - no, you know what? You deserve to hear it all...". And if you weren't in the mood for it, your best bet was to nod along, with the hope that he would get side-tracked by someone looking more in need of a pep-talk than you. Serious, lovey and completely out of it. That was the entirety of Wine Hobi's emotional spectrum.

     Self-love lectures were especially reserved for one on one though, and aside from that - wine aunt Hobi worked wonders on a crowd.

     There was one time that an argument had broken out amongst the entire house and we had all gathered in the living room to discuss it.

     "It" being: Namjoon's piles.

They had gotten out of control.

     Now, I organized things into piles around my room and sometimes throughout my house. They served a purpose, sure. But this was different. A full suit (shoes included), his keys, sunglasses and a half-finished protein shake were found in the kitchen sink one morning. A similar thing happened during a house-hunt for his briefcase. We found it in his shower - along with a pair of headphones, a pile of laundry, a plant and its future pot and what appeared to be a collection of used tissues. Similar assortments of things kept popping up in piles all over the house until every room had at least 6 or 7.

     To each their own, right?

Except Great Teacher Namjoon had become upset over the mysterious amount of his stuff that kept disappearing. Stuff that he was completely convinced we had moved for some "juvenile game". An accusation that some (one) of us did not take lightly.

     "Please tell me why I would take or want three different single socks, a broken game controller, 32 chords that none of us can identify or your TNMT blanket hoodie? What kind of 'game's' do you think I like to play, huh?" Jimin could not have made his response any drier. With a taut jaw and tongue poking his cheek, he raised his eyebrow while Namjoon stammered. Puffing out his cheeks with wide open eyes to get his frustration across after he'd accepted that words had failed him.

     The rest of us were mostly divided between supporting Jimin, not minding the piles and wanting to speak up (but also hoping things would resolve before they had to).

     Jimin was rightfully upset. He had sprained an ankle after tripping over one of the piles and had to miss work. He tried to show up anyways but the studio wrangled Jungkook in to sub, telling Jimin to take a rest - in what they believed would be taken - as a kind gesture.

     Unfortunately, it was driving Jimin insane. Trying not to stress about the financial setback gave him so much time and energy to notice the piles. To stew about how those piles made him feel.

It wasn't going great.

     Things rarely got torn like this and we all sat frozen, unsure of what to do.

     Our saving grace was a sound effect that could be heard from the kitchen. The clatter of cabinet doors and clanging of pots and pans rang out shortly after.

     At some point - Hobi had snuck away from us to make a kind of pasta that "came to him in a vision".

     "Guess who's making yummy pas-tah?~" Hobi coo'd from a place we couldn't see. The words were sung out in a way that practically begged us to come witness what he was working on.

     Jimin was upset at first, when we all started slinking over to see what Hobi was making. He crossed his arms and refused to look at anybody. Jiggling a bandaged ankle that was crossed over his other leg.    

     Joon, on the other hand, had started shadowboxing in the corner to vent his frustrations. Occasionally stopping to check through the piles that were around the room. With scrutiny, he selected items from the floor and placed them into their own, new piles. Making small groans and whispering, "What the fuck man..." at them before resuming his punching of the air. We felt it was best to leave them be.

     It took less than 10 minutes. And by the time the scent of garlic and onion being fried beckoned them over, we had all huddled around Hobi, chanting - "Go Hobi! Go!" while he shook a flaming pan around his body and furiously wiggled his knees.

     Any reluctance that Jimin had been feeling about joining us was reduced down to nothing, and within seconds he was hopping around on one foot with Hobi, using Namjoon's shoulder as his crutch. Namjoon held his crutches for him instead - both of them hyping Hobi up until he swung the pan too close to his wine glass. The near collision caused him to sober up and he shoo'd us out of the kitchen, selecting a few helpers to assist him with the rest. A wink and tap of one index finger on the nose was directed at those of us that had gotten rattled from the built up anger and tension. A simple gesture to acknowledge that he had purposefully (at least to some degree) worked to diffuse both with his noodle making scheme.

     It was only after we had all tucked into some immaculate white wine and cream sauce pasta that Joon craned his neck to find Jimin.

     "I'll clean up the piles dude, I'm sorry again about your ankle."

     Jimin chewed on some sauteed asparagus with an unimpressed look for a minute before he set down his fork and shook his hair back from his face.

     "It's fine," he said casually, wiping a lip with his thumb, "and if you wanna keep some piles in my room that's fine too just - I'll tell you what area's are okay, yeah?" Joon raised his chin to show a full, closed-mouth, koala smile. Cheeks stuffed with food.

And that was that.

It was like -

     Oh wait - there was also the time we were intervention-ing Tae in the kitchen for his hyperfixation on collaging every inch of the house. The oven included. We were mad that he hadn't checked the flammability of the materials he was using, and he was upset that his work had gone up in flames while we were making breakfast.

     After sticking his wine glass into view - Hobi simply stepped in, grabbed Tae by the waist and waltzed him into the living room where he had his favorite jazz songs playing. I think we all wound up dancing to them that day.

And Tae took down his fire hazard collages (and contributed the most towards the new oven). So it was agreed that he could collage in his room and shared spaces (as long as it didn't pose a threat to household safety).

You see what I mean?

     It just worked.

     These family-esque roles only benefited the household and we gained nothing from pretending otherwise. The sense of familial love served as an active reminder that no matter how frustrated anyone felt - love and care were at the center of it all.

No matter what came up.

And even with Jungkook, Yoongi, Lacey and I acting the way that we were.

     The tension between Jungkook and Yoongi had added some pressure to the "golden children" role assigned to Jungkook and I. Yoongi normally acted as the household big brother. Or drunk uncle (mixed with a crotchety but loving grandpa). So having him act like a sullen teenager pushed Jungkook and I to get our shit more together (relatively speaking) in an effort to balance things out. I guess it was like - if Yoongi and Lacey were throwing tantrums and failing school to prove their point, then Jungkook and I were trying to get straight A's and never forgetting our manners to prove ours. We all had parts to play.

It made things interesting, to say the least.

Especially considering the fact that we were entirely guilty of being - well, not golden children. The main difference between us and the other couple - was our double bunny energy. A glorified mask. One that nobody bothered checking underneath (although, I'm glad that they didn't).

     A double bunny, double life.

     Yoongi wasn't the only one who had gotten more clingy after that game night. I don't think I sat on anything besides Jungkook's lap until we all went out to dinner for Jimin's birthday in October - nearly 6 months later. Even after he had yanked my chair as close to his as he could get it, and even with an iron grip glued to my thigh - most of that evening (for me) was spent trying to see anything else besides JK's protruding bottom lip. And convincing us both not to sneak off to a car or bathroom.

Until we had gotten roughly midway through the meal.

Jimin had downed quite a few birthday drinks ("a little mix of everything") by then and was making Tae hold a dollar tree tiara on top of his head (it was meant for much smaller ones). The alcohol was waving a green flag for the thoughts that had been brewing and he sucked in a breath to express the qualm he had.     

     The one about Jungkook's lips being glued to my ear all evening.

It came out in the form of 20 questions.

"Guys, I'm 23 years old (he was turning 25) and I'm getting too old for this. Whispering sweet nothing's? In front of me? On my birthday? A day about ME? Are you telling her how handsome I am? Even though MELODY (a 4 yr old student of his) insisted on telling me how much she loves him more than me all day?" His head was bobbling as he tried to maintain his stare. The hand holding his nearly empty glass glittered with rings and a few bracelets he had received as gifts. He looked beautiful. Like an expensive angel.

     And if Jungkook hadn't been in devil mode, I'm sure I would've been gushing to Jimin about it.

But I didn't have the heart to tell him that Jungkook hadn't been whispering sweet nothings. He had only been whispering "please, please, please" in a way that reached between my legs. And I didn't trust myself to hide the effect it was having enough to make a joke about it. So I gave him compliments that I pretended to relay instead.

Unfortunately, that was really fun for both of them.

As soon as I did, Jungkook immediately and excitedly switched from one word begging to explicit descriptions of everything he would be doing to me once we were alone. I fought for composure and locked the hand he had on my leg in place with a tight squeeze of my thighs.

"Oh my god - Jimin looks so good while he dances that you wish you could carry a personal spotlight for him? Instead of being his TA? Wait, wait - the sexiest man in the world is...is who? Jimin? This angel?"

Jimin did not care where the compliments were really coming from and preened as I babbled on. Jungkook was smiling against my ear at this, detailing just how good he wanted us both to feel. How making me feel good, would make him feel even better. And didn't I want him to feel good?

My mouth had to develop its own brain to get the right words out. And I remember thinking that I was going to faint from trying to keep the act going until Jin cut me off to give his own birthday speech for Jimin. The food and cocktails on the table suddenly looked unappealing as the words Jungkook had spoken were given space to sink in. I clutched a hand around a strong thigh, battling with my mounting desire to unbutton the jeans that covered them.

Jungkook pulled away from me for the first time that evening in order to give Jin his full attention. And because he loved to tease.

I caught a glimpse of his cocky smirk as he lifted his glass of whiskey, gulping the rest down without taking his eyes off Jin. It was one that only grew wider after noticing my pent up and irritated frown looking up at him. Him and his stupidly excellent peripheral vision.

     After we returned from the restaurant, everyone a little tipsy and searching for a spot to rest - I was nearly thrown up to the landing of the staircase by the front door. Jungkook stilled in front of me once we were both there, and the anticipation began climbing uncomfortably fast. A hand pressed against the wall behind me while I held my breath underneath him.

     Our position had me trapped - although, I'm not sure if that would be the right word for it. We stood there, holding our heads close enough together that the air between us felt tantalizing. I wanted to devour him. And the ability to care about anyone hearing us was rapidly fading away as each second added to our need. But I never had to wait long with Jungkook.

The moment he was (mostly) sure that everyone was couch-locked, I was pushed up against, locked into a kiss so forceful that it wiped me clean. A blank slate.

     The truth is, I could act like JK and Yoongi were the only ones that had gotten more attached since that game night - but I was just as bad, if not worse than both of them combined.

You remember the "other way to forget" that I mentioned?

Well, this was it.

Loving on and letting myself be loved on by this incredible person - who was kissing me on that landing like he could turn back time, if he could just -

If he could only -

Scrambling against each other had us panting into open mouths.

"What did I tell you earlier?" He groaned the words as softly as he could along my jawline. Biting onto it in an attempt to distract from how he was shaking. It registered as a command and I hiked up a knee, keeping it tight against the side of his body. Wrapping one arm underneath it, he pushed it up even further so it was pressed back into my shoulder. Stepping his feet in so he could feel the front of my body against his without feeling hindered.

The sensation turned me into an animal. And my tugs on the back of his hair turned aggressive. That hint of pain had him making the noises that were stuck in my throat. As quiet as we were trying to be, they surrounded us and made me dizzy. There was nothing else in the world in that moment but him. I couldn't remember that game night. I couldn't torture myself with images of Lacey and Yoongi. I couldn't feel the guilt, or anxiety, or fear. I couldn't remember what happened before -

All there was, was Jungkook.

Just Jungkook.

My Jungkook. Who had slowed his pace down just enough. Not so much that I could stop fighting to keep up, but enough that the only thought able to make it to my awareness was: "More.".

I couldn't tell you when I started saying it out loud.

But I remember the exact moment it became all I could hear.

Over and over and over again. It was like it became the only word I knew.

"More, more - mph - more." A single word that felt almost like a prayer. Or a wish. Or the simplest kind of need.

Jungkook smiled as both of my arms locked in place around his neck.

"Hold on tighter baby," The words were given as a soft order and my muscles reacted on their own accord.

I was lifted up completely, my legs following the movements of my arms - ankles wrapped around each other a little tighter than needed to keep him pressed against me.

The trembling from both of us wasn't because of nerves or fear of getting caught, but from trying to keep some semblance of self-control.

"JK, I want - I want to," -

"I know baby, me too, I know."

Catching on fire wouldn't have made me pause. I don't think I would have even felt it over the heat radiating out from both of our cores.

Once I was lifted, any memory of the staircase blipped out of existence. Jungkook was everything the universe had created and I became the black void that held him together. Without him filling me up, there was nothing. A sky without stars. Unbearably empty. I needed him to -

"Fill me.".

Jungkook nearly dropped me at the words and it took me a minute to realize they had even left my mind.

But I had zero time to reflect on the fact that they had because Jungkook's rutting against me escalated in strength so suddenly I worried - for a split second - our clothing would disintegrate from the friction. The slightest amount of separation between us had revealed itself to be a shared level of Hell. It could no longer be ignored.

"Need it, need you - I need to. Fuck. Baby, I need you." Jungkook was almost slurring the words and removed my hold around his neck to slip his fingers between mine. Pushing our interwoven hands up against the wall behind my back. Shifting just slightly so that I was sandwiched between it and him, my legs tightened around his waist. Deepening the pressure and nearly vibrating at the ever-increasing hardening between them.

     He needed me too.

   

     Just like I needed -

     My heart felt like it was growing, blind to the fact that it'd been tied down with rope.

Here's the thing.

This was the night that started the Bunny Challenge. And it's 100% because of what I did next.

I smirked.

Our eyes were both closed at this point, but he felt the smirk on my face as he murmured the words of need. If my eyes had been opened maybe I would've been able to see how he looked when he did.

Instead, all I heard was a low laugh from deep in his chest. And all I felt were his hands slowly removing themselves from my still grabbing ones.

I didn't consider the volume of my voice before letting out a whine of frustration.

"Baby, noooo - what are you - come back to me." I spluttered and made my best attempts to keep him from stopping. Unfortunately - I was still in a turned on haze and Jungkook's reflexes were entirely out of my league.

"Do you like driving me insane?" Jungkook's tone was doing nothing to calm me down. I wiggled desperately to rekindle what he had stopped so suddenly, still trapped underneath and around him. Feeling a heartbeat from the part of him that still felt so far away as it thumped against the highest point between my thighs.

"Yes," I hissed the words at him. My frustration gave my eyes the strength to shoot open and glare at him.

That goddamn cocky smile.

I huffed to myself and Jungkook worked to remove my legs. Only looking back at me once I had been gently lowered onto the ground. There was the closest thing to wickedness I ever saw from him when he did.

There was no chance to collect myself before Jungkook started kissing me again. In a way that made it impossible to believe he would ever stop. In the kind of way that made me believe that what we both wanted was surely, going to happen.

And then he stopped.

"I bet that even if you tried your hardest, you couldn't get me to break the rules." He said the words as a taunt.

It worked immediately.

I readjusted my jeans before scoffing back at him, "Oh you're so on sweet boy." - a single kiss was my reward.

"Then the Double Bunny Challenge starts now baby." He swayed back and forth in front of me as he said it, one hand against the wall and the other in his front pocket. He had leaned forward, trying to find some relief and in an attempt to seem unbothered.

I lowered myself down onto my knee's, leaning just the slightest bit forward to breathe hot air against the spot he was trying to calm down. A hand flew to the back of my head and pushed me closer. I could hear that JK had tilted his head back as the "Oh fuck" he moaned echoed out from the ceiling above us.

In all honesty, the feeling of his hand controlling my head nearly made me cave in before we had even gotten started. The faintest awareness of footsteps is the only thing I can thank for helping me find any grip on rationality.

Jungkook changed the movement of his hand to tug me by the hair. Helping me lean against the wall like it was casual and not because my legs were shaking too much to stand. 20 fingers went to work at the tangles in each other's hair, smoothing them out so that we didn't look like we had been doing the things we were doing.

"Jesus, for a second I was worried I was gonna walk in on something nasty." Jimin's voice travelled up the staircase and we both spluttered out laughs. Like he had said something unheard of.

"Uh, we're mature now dude. Remember? You won't catch us slippin'." Jungkook leaned over the banister with a laugh while I gave thanks to the shadows for hiding the flush stinging my cheeks.

"Yeah, yeah - you're somethin'. That's for sure. Joonie needs help with something then it's your turn to make me a birthday drink. Cause it's my birthday, I dunno if you recall but I'm kinda a big deal and I'm normally really humble about it but this is the one day..." Jimin's voice trailed off as he babbled. Footsteps tapping away quietly on his journey back to the living room.

Jungkook and I took our time down the stairs. I excused myself for a smoke to finish calming down and Jungkook looked down at me with a shit-eating grin.

"Of course baby. We wouldn't want you giving into anything. Especially something that's, I dunno, against the rules?" I smacked him on the arm and turned away in a huff. Unknowingly doing exactly what he wanted.

A hand slid between my legs as I opened the front door. The pads of his fingers applied just enough pressure, to just the right place, and had me clapping a hand over my mouth to muffle the gasp I couldn't control.

It was over in an instant. And JK swaggered off without giving me the satisfaction of seeing if my reaction affected him.

I chain-smoked outside until the guys called me in to ref a game of beer pong.

Despite the consequences of it - the Bunny Challenge alleviated some of the pressure from the "golden children" role. It made it easier to navigate to a certain extent. Preoccupied us, I guess you could say.

One morning, after a particularly intense Bunny Challenge in the basement's laundry room - I bumped into Yoongi on his way down the stairs.

Jungkook had gone back to his room to "take care of something" and I had decided to go to the front porch. Hoping that the winter chill would knock my brain back into reality. Also because Jungkook had almost won that round but wound up falling victim to his own plan. "Baby go upstairs and stop talking. I have to stop looking at you and - ok, all my senses? You hafta be blocked. Skedaddle.".

Maybe that was why I did it.

Asked Yoongi if he wanted a coffee and a smoke.

Had things really gotten to the point where I was asking Yoongi to hang out and help me calm down? It seemed so impossible that I would ever have mild enough feelings to be around him like that. I didn't say it, but I remember wondering if Yoongi felt the same - because after coming to a halt, he only paused for a moment. And then he said yes.

The moment our body weight had sunk into that front porch couch, I couldn't believe I had ever thought anything so stupid. Sitting there with him did manage to snap me out of the lust Jungkook had stirred up. But it didn't come close to calming me down.

Every hair on my body raised at the awareness of Yoongi being beside me. I puffed at my cigarette robotically. Unable to understand how I had swung from one extreme to the other. From the feelings with Jungkook to the ones that came out around Yoongi.

"So..." I mustered up the word blankly. Glad that my regular person peripheral vision was only allowing me glimpses of ebony strands and a hint of one round cheek.

"So." Yoongi was always much more concise with his words.

A few more minutes passed. The sound of inhaling and exhaling bordered on being meditative.

"So I'm gonna play a show here next month. Once the holidays are over and stuff." Yoongi stated.

"So...in January?"

A small chuckle.

"So, yeah. January 13th."

I didn't fight the smile tugging across my face very hard.

"SooOooOo, that's pretty cool man. I can't wait to see it." I bounced my heel against the wooded floor. The memory of how we first met, how this all started, came back as a good one. It felt sweet. And so simple. I just wanted to see him -

"I hope you dance." The deepness of his voice pushed inside of me to let the words hit even deeper.

I swiveled to gawk at him, hoping a clever retort would find its way out of my mouth, but he was looking at the ashtray. Stubbing out his cigarette and letting it fall into the pile of ones already there.

"Babe I know your show is coming up but I -" Lacey's voice was small and needy until it abruptly stopped. I didn't catch it but I'm sure it was the moment she realized who was sitting next to Yoongi.

My feeble smile faltered at her wrinkle nose'd expression. The "hi" I was about to say lodged in my throat. A weak wave instead then.

It was completely ignored.

Yoongi had stiffened upon hearing her voice and I knew better than to hope for a chance of eye contact. Or saying goodbye. Or telling him that it had been so nice to talk to him. That I wanted to know more about his show and the work he had done to make it happen. What had inspired him for this one and if he had been working on it since they moved. Or if it started before then.

He stood up to make his way over to Lacey and I narrowed my eyes straight ahead, inspecting the nearly finished cigarette between my index and middle fingertips.

I was too nervous to put it out. To feel Lacey's glare on me as I moved. To be way too aware of Yoongi not looking at me, despite being maddeningly conscientious about every little thing he was doing.

I fiddled with the butt of the cigarette instead. Trying not to notice the words Lacey was saying and the hurt in Yoongi's voice as he gave his response.

He hoped I'd dance.

My stomach attempted to catapult itself outside of my body when I remembered why Yoongi and I had drifted apart in the first place. Why Lacey was here at all.

Jungkook.

My feelings for Jungkook.

I braced myself for a self-loathing fueled game of "what if" - but it never even got the chance to start. Thoughts of JK laying in bed downstairs rinsed me clean. Well, relatively speaking. I didn't need to fix Yoongi's relationship with Lacey and I didn't need to hate myself for where we all were now. I still did, but I didn't need to show penance through relentless overthinking. It's not like I was unhappy with where I was now. If Yoongi hadn't been happy with Lacey before... that had to have changed at least a bit by now, right? The past year's images of Lacey and Yoongi played through thoughts in a mental slideshow.

Yeah.

We were all happier now.

The thing about lying to yourself is that eventually you have to face the truth.

Christmas and New Year's celebrations went by in a flash. My mother loved Jungkook and had his personalized stocking ordered for the next year before we had gotten through Christmas morning. The guy's had their own celebrations - only Namjoon, Tae and Hobi went back home to see their families - and we all got WAY too into mulled wine before our white elephant gift exchange.

December felt 4 days long - Jin's birthday, Tae's early birthday, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. The first two weeks of January could've been one and I wouldn't have been able to confirm otherwise.

But on January 13th, things in the house changed.

Jungkook and I were jerked upright that morning by both the sound of something breaking from colliding with the wall and the sound of the wall being hit. In a blood-curdling volume, Lacey's shrieks - barely muffled behind closed doors helped us wake up faster than we did most mornings.

"YOU TOLD ME THAT IF WE DID THIS -" Pierced our eardrums with an icepick. "YOU KNOW THAT I -HATE- HER AND YOU STILL JUST -" Made an attempt to pull out my spine in one piece.

"No way that's you baby." Jungkook whispered before circling his arms around me. Hands flattened against my ears to block out any sound. I curled up into his embrace, taking note of all the different senses that had been taken over by him.

It went on for hours though. And after accepting that things wouldn't be resolved anytime soon - Jungkook decided to check on them. He slid on noise cancelling headphones to take the place of his hand coverage and kissed me on the forehead.

     It had to have been less than 10 minutes later but I didn't look at the clock. My eyes were glued to the door.

A blur of an object whizzed past the open crack in it and the thud that followed felt like it shook the framing of the house. It buzzed into my bones and made me uncomfortably aware of the amount of teeth in my mouth.

Jungkook came stumbling into the room, taking steps backwards and bumping into the door without any of the caution he had left with. In front of him was Lacey, who was fighting against Yoongi and his attempts to hold her back.

"YOU -" The words ripped their way into my ears as the headphones were torn off of them. Lacey had broken free and was standing over me on the bed. Yoongi was now focused on wrangling Jungkook to stop him from going after her.

Then all I could see was Lacey raising a fist back and dropping to her knees in what looked like slow motion towards me.

Grab her by the waist and turn.

Roll her onto her back and pin her with knees on each side of the hips.

Use feet to trap legs and prevent kicking back.

     Wrists, pin elbows down.

A thunder of footsteps. Scuffling behind me turned into silence. I held Lacey down like that, lost in limbo - until her unintelligible screams morphed into guttural sounding cries. One blink. And I lowered myself down to hug her. Letting the pressure of my body act as a weighted blanket until her arms wrapped around my waist to keep me there.

I vaguely remember hushed voices and shuffling footsteps coming from the doorway.

But it took hours.

When Lacey's crying had stopped, and her breathing had returned to normal - I eased myself off to sit next to her. She sat up with a clogged nose, watery hazel eyes a little pink but perfectly round.

"I'm not okay. Like, mentally." She said it angrily. Pulling her knees up to her chest and closing her arms around them. I mirrored her position.

"Me too -", my initial response got a snort from her.

"Yeah, okay. You're so fucked up that it made you sweet and caring instead of cutting yourself or literally going apeshit." The sarcasm came out in self-defense but it made me prickly.

"Ok hey now - if you think if I haven't cut myself or gone apeshit then you have a lot to learn about me." A little laugh relaxed us both.

"Fair. I'm sorry. It's just - I'm just - I'm like, really. REALLY. Not okay. Yoongi knows I wanna have kids and get married, any order is fine, you know? I just was like - I moved my whole life to a random ass state he wanted to go to all of a sudden and now he's like 'Babe I just gotta focus on my music right now' and I am - I'm losing it! I can't keep it up anymore! Like, I am fuckin' crazy girl it's -" Lacey wiped a sleeve at her nose as she talked and I tried my best not to zone out at the mention of Yoongi.

I could be a good listener.

"- And that's why I gotta move out like, today. Like, right now. You know? I dunno, I'm sure I'll be back. I've known these guys for sooo long but -" I saw my hand floating up to Lacey's shoulder before I felt it doing so.

"They're good guys that care about you. We all do. If you need to take care of yourself, that's not a bad thing. You deserve to feel proud of yourself for makin' that kinda decision." I said the words with care but there was an unspoken energy between us that disturbed its sincerity.

Lacey hesitated before speaking next.

"I don't hate you, you know that right? Just, please," the look she had given me the night they moved in echoed across her face, "Yoongi's mine. Please. Even if I'm not here.". She grabbed one of my hands as she did this, the last of the pleading look ebbing once she found my eyes.

I couldn't think of what to say. So I nodded. With as much affirmative intent as I could.

I promised to help her tell the others and promised again that I'd help her with packing before she moved out.

Jungkook shot me a confused look from the couch before we turned out of the kitchen - before anyone else could see. I lifted my shoulders in a shrug to reply, unable to translate the situation into a gesture.

Most of the guys took the news well and tried not to flood Lacey with questions. Words of support, concern and love rang out in an array of voices while Yoongi stared at the floor. Away from all the others, clearly struggling to accept Lacey's decision.

He got up at one point and with a voice urgent and strangled, asked Lacey how he could be sure she was ok if she was away from him.

"She has her hooks in deep this time." Hobi's words came back to me while the connection was made.

Oh.

I always imagined it was something physical. Maybe I took Hobi's description too literally. I didn't know how to feel about it being this. That it was because Lacey was struggling like this.

Lacey - who had not let go of my hand despite Yoongi coming over.

Who pulled me to stand by her side as he did. With an unfeasibly strong grip that contradicted her size.

The stars from Yoongi's eyes grew brighter after they darted to mine. The contact lasted less than a second but the sonic boom in my stomach and ringing in my ears can hasn't faded in years. Not even the slightest bit.

Lacey's hand tightened around mine with a strength that made it hurt and all of my focus went to checking the rest of the room.

Jimin looked bored out of his mind and Hobi looked like he was biting back an "I told you so.". Tae was sitting with his legs crossed on the edge of the couch. He had slouched over to reach the cigarette holder he had tucked between two fingers. That hand was draped over his knee while the other propped up his chin.

Namjoon and Jin were minding their business, playing games and continuing to read like nothing was going on. And JK was -

He wasn't there.

Oh. He was pacing in the kitchen.

He was livid.

I think that I had been trying not to notice that.

But once I did, I couldn't look away. Lacey and Yoongi disappeared. The iron hold on my hand morphed into a vague weight. I knew it was trapping me, but I couldn't tell what it was. Rhythmic thudding beat against my ears until it blocked out any sound - forbidding them from getting through.

Jungkook noticed after 11 paces. Making a face of "wtf" exasperation and (presumably) using the back door for a swifter exit.

He didn't slam the door.

But the gentle way it shut behind him made it just as loud.

As if a spell had been broken - I shook the ambiguous weight from my hand and all but sprinted after him.

I don't think I mentioned it before now. I knew it'd happen eventually, but it's kind of funny that we've gotten to this point of the story. I'm still finding my way to The Backyard.

Lacey was going to stay with her mom until she could go to an inpatient treatment center. Yoongi, Jin and Namjoon were going to drive back with her (and so that Yoongi wouldn't have to drive back alone - no matter how much he insisted he'd be fine).

"But wait - your show tonight. Can we leave tomorrow instead?" Lacey was asking the question when I stepped back into the house.

It hung in the air for a second before, "Oh shit, the show." was blown out in an unfamiliar frazzled voice.

"Please babe? I -" I turned into the living room the same moment I figured out who sounded so frazzled and that they figured out who was causing the footsteps.

Lacey bounced over to wrap me up in a hug and chirped, "One last blow out! We have to have fun on our last night together, right?".

"Last night together for just a little while though, right?" I parroted her question form, the real answer to her question stuck within a tangled ball of thread.

Yoongi gave me a well deserved, "what the hell" look and the words unknotted into a coherent line.

"Are you sure you're okay though?" I did my best to show that it wasn't asked to be chastising.

There was a minuscule quiver of her bottom lip and then she cleared her throat. Shaking her shoulders and walking back over to Yoongi. Her voice wavered at first, "No,-" it came back stronger to finish, "but his shows are important to him. I want him to have it and I want to support that.".

Even though her back was turned to me as she did this, her words made me smile with a relief I didn't know I had been waiting for.

"Do you wanna hang out with me tonight then? You know, um, in case you don't feel ok? Or anything like that?" I blurted out the question without thinking about any other factors.

Yoongi's "what the hell" (angry) turned into "what the hell?" (concern + surprise).

Jungkook came back inside.

Lacey agreed.

Jungkook went straight downstairs.

I remember smiling and waving. And taking steps towards the stairs towards JK's room.

----------------------------------------------------------------

"- Amygdala!"

"My amygdala!"

Yoongi's voice flew through the speakers and slammed me back into my body after (an undetermined amount of time) had passed. Jimin and Lacey were both holding my hands on the dance floor - which was pretty much the entire living room and kitchen. We were closest to Yoongi, the entryway and the front door. I don't think a single person there was above the influence. The company at the time and myself included.

I almost started moving to the song. Almost joined the other two as they swung our hands and sang (screamed) along with Yoongi. But there was one person above the influence that night, and we were looking right at each other. Jungkook was using all of the patience and love that he had to gently express "please" in the look he gave me. And then the front door closed. The sound of it crackling throughout my bloodstream like a bolt of electricity.

     The please was following something he had told me earlier. It wasn't anything unreasonable or cruel.

But it hurt.

     "You shouldn't be anywhere around me tonight. I don't want you to be- anywhere around me tonight.".

And that's how I wound up on the dance floor.

Like no-one could see me sobbing.

[amberlynnmurdock]

Blind Faith (Ch. 11)

Chapter Eleven: Logic Games

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: You start noticing things about Matt you haven't noticed before. Nelson & Murdock receives an invitation to the annual Bar Dinner at the New York Courthouse.

A/N: Here's the next update! This chapter really sets the plot of the story. I guess this is the start of "Act 2." I can't wait to read what you all think is going to happen. AHHH. So much more to come! Enjoy!! :)

TAGS: @starry-night-20 @sumsytee @queerqueenlynn @mattmurdocksstarlight @marvelcinematiquniverse 

AO3 Link

Hell’s Kitchen 

Another few weeks have gone by without seeing him. 

You didn’t dare think of his name, whomever he was. It wasn’t fair you gave him all that time, all that attention, all that affection, just for him to take it for granted and hurt you the way he did. Never again. You solidified it by throwing his burner phone in your apartment dumpster. You really didn’t need him to save you anymore. 

At least the last few weeks have been more productive than ever. Instead of going out, you stayed in. You enjoyed the quiet in the apartment. It was just you, your LSAT textbook, and your corner desk that gave you a view of the city. If he ever crossed your mind, it was only for a second. A second that made your heart feel like it weighed a thousand pounds. And the moment he left your mind, the weight was gone. 

Well, it was the summer of falling in love with vigilantes, you’d say. A summer you’d never forget—a story you’d be passing down like an urban legend. No one knew of this but only you and him. 

Summer was almost at an end, but your studying wasn’t letting up. If anything, it only got more intense as each night went on. You fervently highlighted concepts of logic games, reading comprehension, and logical reasoning. You were on your second notebook now, a notebook filled with explanations of answers and helpful tips to keep in mind. It was satisfying to see how much you’ve gotten done. 

You snuck in a few studying sessions before work, too. You started getting to the office even earlier. It was easier to forget him when you weren’t at home. So being at the office was a helpful distraction. It helped you focus on things at hand, not things your mind sometimes betrayed you to think of. Instead of thinking of his hands on your waist, you felt how your office chair hugged your body when you leaned back. Instead of thinking of your lips on his, you felt your lips burn at your first sip of coffee. Instead of thinking of all the times you’ve waited for him on your rooftop, you waited for Matt’s arrival to join you in the office. 

And, maybe you never noticed this before, but you certainly were starting to now. One morning, Matt had come in shortly after you. You did your normal morning routine of fixing him up a cup of coffee, to which he politely declined. Slowly putting the cup back in its place, Matt walked by you in the kitchen, and you saw blood dripping down the side of his face. The gasp that left your mouth betrayed you. 

“What’s wrong?” Matt asked, his brows furrowed behind his dark red glasses. 

“I—you’re bleeding,” you said slowly, as you began to closely inspect his wound. It was coming from his temple, poorly covered by a thin bandage. You grabbed for a napkin and before dabbing his wound, you paused. 

“Can I help you clean it? It’s pretty gnarly. It might get on your shirt,” you offered in a small voice. “And you’ve got that hearing later today.” 

“Yeah,” Matt said after some hesitation.

You washed your hands before removing the small bandage from his right temple. Using the napkin, you dabbed at his wound gently—you couldn’t help but wonder how on earth he hurt himself like this. Then again, he was blind…but you didn’t want to offend him. 

“How’d you get this?” You asked as casually as you could. 

“I bent down to get something in my bathroom cabinet,” Matt explained, “I hit my head on the door. I must’ve missed when putting my bandage on. Y’know,” he shrugged sheepishly. You dabbed his wound and tried to ignore the small space between you and your boss. He leaned on the counter with his left hand, his head tilted in the dimly lit kitchen for you to have access to his wound. You were so close, you could smell a hint of his cologne. 

You found a first aid kit that was nearly out of bandaids in the kitchen. Noted. You would pick some up along with coffee and plates tomorrow. 

“I don’t mean for you to take this the wrong way, but have you ever considered a guide dog?” You asked. You placed a brand new bandage that completely covered his wound. Crumpled the bloody napkin and threw it in the trash. Matt let out a soft chuckle. 

“You’re not the first who’s suggested that,” Matt answered. “I don’t think I could handle a dog. I get by on my own fine, save for a few head bumps.” 

“True,” you felt obliged to agree. “Well, you’re all set. Hopefully, the bandaid lasts all day. If not, I can play Nurse again.” Play nurse. That sounded so wrong, you thought. Dammit. 

Matt grinned, tapping his covered wound. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome,” you said. Matt cleared his throat and left the kitchen for his office. You found your place in your seat, closed your LSAT textbook, and began to work on files for Nelson & Murdock. 

Later in the day, before Matt’s hearing, you changed his bandaid again, in his office. Door closed. Karen was on the phone with someone in the conference room and Foggy was locked in his office writing a brief. 

You changed Matt’s bandaid. He was silent as he sat in his chair, letting you clean his wound again. You had nothing to say. But you couldn’t shake the strange feeling you got when you noticed how pained he looked, even behind his dark red glasses. It wasn’t as bloody anymore; it shouldn’t hurt anymore. But you were close enough to see how hurt he looked. Jaw clenched, brows furrowed, eyes closed. He didn’t say anything. Did it hurt that bad? 

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

Another day in the week, you were really starting to go through the motions of forgetting about him. It was so hard to forget how he made you feel at night. Not just the way he pleased you, but the way he made you feel safe. How you felt so much yourself around him, a stranger in the night. Except he didn’t feel like a stranger at all. How could you feel so passionately for someone whose identity you didn’t know? 

These thoughts plagued your mind; it was hard to detach emotionally. Emily was a psychology major. What was it she said about physical and emotional attachments? It took longer for emotional attachments to go away? Well, it’s only been a month now. August was upon the city. And still, you thought of the emotions he stirred in you. 

Instead of leaving the office at five, like everyone else, you asked if it was okay for you to study for the LSAT in the conference room after hours. 

“Are you sure?” Foggy asked, scrunching his nose. “I mean, I don’t mind, but I can’t imagine being stuck in the office for more than eight hours.” 

“I want to,” you said, “the conference table is big enough for my books. Plus, it’s Friday night, and my roommates will be loud before they head out.” 

“As long as you feel safe,” Karen added. “Text us if you need anything. It can get pretty dark in this area.”

“I’ll be fine.” An image of him flashed in your mind. You didn’t need him anymore. You never did. 

“I’ll be staying late,” Matt interjected, coming out of his office. “I have a few files to catch up on.”

Karen exhaled a sigh of relief. You appreciated how concerned she was for your safety. “Okay. Okay, good.” After working here for a few months, you understood Karen has probably seen the worst of this city in ways you can’t even imagine. 

“Great! Well, I guess Josie’s is off the books tonight. Unless you guys wanted to meet us in an hour or so?” Foggy asked. 

“Maybe,” you were open to the idea. “Let me know where you are in two hours. And hopefully, I get enough studying in so I don’t feel guilty.” 

“Awesome! Hopefully, we’ll see you later.”

Karen and Foggy left, and Matt returned to his office. You sat at the conference table for a while, completely immersed in your textbook. Your mind felt clear and focused as you took notes and answered practice problems. Copying down explanations, reading passages carefully. 

A knock came on the conference door. Of course, it was Matt. 

“Hey,” he greeted quietly. “How’s studying going?” 

“Good,” you answered, “I’m starting to get the hang of it all. Taking practice tests. Logic games are a little tricky.”

Matt smiled, “Logic games were my favorite part of the test.” 

“It’s possible to have a favorite part?” You asked incredulously. Matt laughed. 

“Sometimes, it’s not about the analysis of the test, but your mindset going into it. Don’t treat it like something you have to do; treat it like a hobby.”

“Interesting,” you thought aloud. “Next study session, I’ll have to think of it that way. I don’t want to get burned out.” 

“Definitely don’t get burned out,” Matt agreed. “You’ll need to be sharp on test day.” 

“I know,” you said, “I’m finding a balance.” He leaned against the wall in the conference room, hands in his pockets. Your eyes trailed down to his hands. You saw how red his knuckles were. Bruised, basically. 

“Did you fall, or hurt yourself again?” You asked him. Caught off guard, Matt looked confused. “Your knuckles,” you added. 

“Oh,” Matt took his hands of out his pockets and kept them behind his back. “You know me.” 

You worried, for some reason. But you didn’t press the situation. 

“You know, I wouldn’t mind helping you with any LSAT studying,” Matt offered, “if you wanted.” 

“I’d like that,” you answered, your mind trailing off from his red knuckles. “I’ll use any help I can get. I don’t want to pay for any tutors.”

“I have some time now?” Matt asked. You thought for a moment. It’s been a while since you’ve done anything else but study, and Foggy’s offer of Josie’s was tempting. 

“Maybe we should meet them at Josie’s,” you suggested. “I could use a drink.” 

On your way to Josie’s, you walked with Matt, his hand gently on your elbow, cane tapping in front of him. You couldn’t take your eyes off his red knuckles the whole time. 

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

The following Monday, Foggy got the mail from the box outside. He flipped through the envelopes: bill, bill, Super Lawyers magazine, bill, and then suddenly, a large, tapered envelope with a gold stamp appeared in the bunch. It was from the New York Courthouse. Foggy ripped open the envelope and pulled out another tapered paper, with cursive writing and a gold trim. 

The New York Courthouse cordially invites Nelson & Murdock to the Bar Dinner. Please visit us on Friday, August 18th, promptly at 7 PM. Join us for a four-course meal and open bar. Please RSVP by the end of the week, and who will be joining us from your law firm. Maximum two guests. 

“Matt! Matt!” Foggy came running into Matt’s office, shutting the door behind him. “We got invited!” 

“We? For what? Is someone getting married?” Matt asked brows scrunched, one earplug in his ear.

Foggy sighed, “No, you idiot, to the Bar dinner! Our first invite!” Foggy read the invite aloud, and his face dropped when he realized the date. 

“Oh no,” Foggy said, “it’s on the 18th. I’m going to a wedding. Marci’s cousin—damn it! I’ll be gone the whole weekend. Maybe Karen can—“

“The 18th? Karen’s on PTO. Visiting her father in Vermont,” Matt remembered. “There’s always next year, Fog.” 

“No, Matt—we have to go this year. At least, one of us! And it’s got to be you,” Foggy demanded. “We need someone to represent us!” 

“I thought we didn’t care about these showy things,” Matt argued, “they’re filled with nothing but a bunch of pretentious Harvard grads who only care about rubbing shoulders and money.” 

“That’s true but—can’t we just play the part? For one night? Get some recognition, show these chummy lawyers what real justice is!” 

“By eating fancy dinners and getting drunk?” Matt scoffed. “Come on, Fog. It’s not that important.” 

“Well then, at least take advantage of the free food and make fun of the chummy lawyers. Come on, Matt. Please go. Hey! Take __, too! She would love that, don’t you think?” 

Matt’s stomach twisted at the mention of you, the idea of bringing you to a fancy Bar dinner, as his date. It’s been hard enough on Matt to pretend he doesn’t love you, doesn’t care about you like that in the office—to also go to an intimate Bar dinner with you? And pretend again? 

“Oh, Foggy,” Matt took his earbud out of his ear, took his glasses off and rubbed his face. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Foggy questioned, “It would be a great experience for her. Something fun. Get all dressed up, make connections.”

“Make connections with the same chummy lawyers we just talked about.” 

“Not all of them are bad. HC&B will be there, I’m sure of it.” 

“Wouldn’t it be weird, me bringing her as my…as my date?” 

“Matt, why are you even thinking like that? It’s for two associates from every firm. It’ll be coworkers, it won’t look weird.”

Matt sighed, his gaze falling short. “If she wants to go, I’ll go.” 

“I’ll ask her,” Foggy quickly said. “Or—actually, you should. Take her under your wing.” 

“I’ll ask her at the end of the day,” Matt said lowly, regretfully.

Foggy clapped his hands, “I’m counting on you, buddy. It’ll be a good time. Make us look good.” 

Matt forced a laugh as Foggy dropped the invitation on his desk. Matt ran his fingers over the texture of the paper and felt the cursive letters. He flipped the paper and sighed. It wasn’t getting any easier, working with you, talking with you. He was pretending all over again. 

⠋⠁⠊⠞⠓

You and Matt stayed after hours again. Matt wasn’t really working, though—he was building the courage to ask you about the Bar dinner. As you wrote fervently in your notebook, studying the LSAT, Matt listened to you from his office. You whispered to yourself the questions, thought out the answers. Your heartbeat was steady. Calm. It reminded him of how you felt in his arms on your rooftop, safe. Before things went badly. 

Ever since, Matt’s completely thrown himself into his work—and not his lawyer work, but his other work. He went out nearly every night and found crime to stop, at the expense of his body. So much, you were starting to notice his bruises and wounds. When you cleaned his wound that one morning, he told himself he shouldn’t let you help him. And it was worse when you actually touched him. Your touch that transported him back to your roof, when you’d let him touch you all over. He craved your touch again. When you helped him again later that day, the thought was so painful, he had to keep quiet. Keep to himself. Not let you know how your touch had an effect on him. 

Matt entered the conference room, knocked on the door as he usually did. You paused your writing. By the sound of your voice, he could tell you were smiling at him. A smile he can only imagine. 

“Hey,” you greeted him. “Treating this like a hobby.” You said in reference to his advice last week. Matt laughed. 

“Good, good. I still want to help you study, but you seemed pretty focused.” 

“Yeah," you said sheepishly, “I mean, if you want to join me now.” 

Matt felt the envelope in his back pocket crinkle. It could wait. Matt reached out in front of him to feel for the desk. He sat in the chair next to you, his knee accidentally nudging yours—you were that close. 

“Tell me what you’re working on,” Matt said. 

Logic games, of course. You read through the problems and explained your answers to him. Matt felt like he was half there, and the other half he was thinking of all the hurtful things he’s done to you, as your savior. Talking to you like you didn’t exile him a while ago was hard. It was like talking with lead, talking with a bitter taste in his mouth. He pushed these thoughts away, explained his view on certain logic game problems. It was a good distraction, but not long enough. Your laugh in his ears, your scent in his nose, your presence next to him—all terrible and lovely reminders of what he could’ve had with you if he’d just been honest. 

Matt left the conference room as you began to pack your things. He still hasn’t asked you about the Bar dinner. 

When he exited his office, you nearly ran into him as you walked toward him. Your chests collided. Matt’s heart pounded as he fought the urge to pull you in close like that. 

“Oh,” you jumped, “I’m sorry. I should’ve just waited by the front door.” 

“No, no,” he said, “It’s okay.” He didn’t change the distance between you both, which was very close. Matt felt the envelope in his pocket. “Did you need something?” 

“No, I just wanted to wait for you,” you said laughing softly. 

“Oh,” Matt smiled, “okay. Well, I actually had a question for you.” He reached for the envelope in his back pocket and held it up upside down. You gently took the paper from his hands and read the invitation. 

“I was wondering if you’d be interested in going,” Matt said, “with me. Foggy will be out of town and Karen’s on PTO. And he really, really wants our firm to be represented.” 

“Wow,” you said in slight shock, “this is pretty legit. I’m allowed to go?” 

Matt cocked his head and made a “why not” face. “If you want.” 

“Definitely,” you said, holding the invitation in amazement. “I guess I’ll have to get a fancy dress.” 

“I’ll have to rent a tux,” Matt chuckled. “Good. Then it’s a date. Well, you know—not a date, but—“

“I know, Matt,” you said softly. His gaze was down, his expression unreadable behind his dark red glasses. You felt the urge to take them off. 

He was still standing close to you, but you felt an invisible buffer of tension between your chests. An undeniable tension you wanted to get out of immediately—not because you were scared, but because you were curious—which you thought was worse. You swallowed hard. A warmth spread in your stomach. 

“We should get going, right?” Matt broke the silence. You backed away as he grabbed for his coat on the hanger. 

“Right,” you agreed. 

You and Matt walked outside, his hand on your elbow. When you reached the corner of the street, you turned to face him. You found he was already gazing in your direction, behind his dark red glasses. 

“Well,” you began, “get home safe, Matt. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” 

“Be safe,” Matt added, holding onto your elbow as you made an attempt to walk away. You gladly fell back in his grasp. Matt’s hand let go of your elbow. His fingers gently traced the length of your forearm, fingertips stopping at your wrist. Your heart fluttered, feeling his fingertips dangerously close to your hand. Matt pulled away, and offered a smile. 

“I will,” you broke the silence, still feeling his soft touch. Like his touch, your thoughts lingered on the moment for the rest of the night. 

[craftyworx]

OK OK OKAY KAY- ( Amanda the adventurer stuffs )

I remember it was awhile ago when I watched a DanTDM lets-play of the game, and it was like a demo so it wasn't the full thing, and I was kinda disappointed because I wanted to see more, and that was when the game was first getting around YT...

And then game theory posted a vid kinda talking more deep about the lore, and like the easter eggs the game had, and it started to gain more interest in me because when the actual game came out, IT WAS ACTUALLY VERY COOL... You could interact more with the attic space that you spawned in, and there were more VHS tapes.

AND THE LORE GOES DEEP. ( Its actually rlly well done, and not just poorly planned out like some modern horror games, and it came out a YEAR ago! )

What I kinda know about it so far ( I don't know much about it as you lmao ) is that the show was made kinda on a low budget, and it was locally broadcasted through the town by like a dude named Sam Colton maybe XD?? And I think Amanda was based off his daughter?

And I think in the game wooly is trying to warn us that Amanda is actually a monster, and to not watch the VHS tapes and burn them because its like a path for her to get into the real world.

UHHHHHHHHHHHH-

So yea XDDDDD

YEAHEYAHYEAH- lore dump time

so, Sam Colton adopted Rebecca (his daughter) and he wanted to make a little show! So it was a live action Amanda the Adventurer. Later on, Hameln, a Company, wanted to make a cartoon adaption of ATA, and Sam agreed.

The cartoon Amanda was going to be voiced by Rebecca, but this is where things began to go downhill.

Maybe Hameln was struggling financially, we don't know for sure, but they were going to do a deal with the devil to "make their show feel as alive as possible." So they had Rebecca chant some demon's names.

Sam didn't like this and wanted it to stop, but one of the Hameln producers told him he should take a quick walk. Sam was likely murdered here, because he went missing after this.

Hameln said that Rebecca needed some time out of the spotlight to process what had happened, but I think they said that as a cover up so they can physically put her into the cartoon...

Now this is where it gets kinda sad. Rebecca is now trapped inside Amanda and she is unable to escape. And Wooly is keeping her trapped. He's keeping her from going crazy and he keeps her from revealing too much. It's SO subtle but if you pay attention, he is doing that...

But yeah, Amanda tries to give us subtle hints to try and get us to free her. Or just help her. In that one lonley kitten ending- She's referring to herself as the kitten. Which just makes it all the more sad.

i can go on so much longer, with Amanda not wanting to go to the meat store, or the demons, or some of the endings, or the way amanda is trying to escape, but SCHOOL-

[whump-me]

Obscure: Chapter 6

Chapter 6 of Obscure, novel-length interrogation whump about a rebel leader who can erase memories with a thought, an interrogator who can see inside his subjects’ minds… and the connection they share that neither of them suspects.

Masterpost | the Mind Games universe | Read the completed novel on Patreon

---

Kirill

Kirill sank into the metal chair. He shifted as it dug into the underside of his thighs. He shifted again. It didn’t help.

The room smelled stale, full of yesterday’s sweat. Maintenance hadn’t bothered to clean it last night. Or maybe he was smelling Elias himself. How long had it been since the man had had a shower?

Elias had dark circles under his eyes. He hadn’t been sleeping. Spiky dark stubble covered his face. His eyes, half-shut, glinted with poorly disguised desperation.

Kirill set a metal band on the table in front of him. It was thick and featureless, and small enough to hug a man’s slim wrist tightly. Elias eyed it, but didn’t ask what it was.

Elias spoke first. His voice was utterly steady. “I know you’re going to talk about him,” he said. “Go ahead. I’ve been practicing. I don’t think you’ll get what you want from me.”

Kirill didn’t speak. He simply stared into Elias’s eyes, his back ramrod straight, his face revealing nothing. Today he was playing the coldly intimidating interrogator. A classic. He had done it before, and he had seen it done. The inhuman iciness of his demeanor was good at squeezing out visceral fear—and memories along with it.

It also wasn’t what Elias would expect. As Elias’s words had indicated, the man would be expecting a direct emotional assault, like the one that had worked so well yesterday.

Or at least, it had worked well until Elias had turned it around on him.

All he had said about Kirill’s power making him vulnerable—it hadn’t been a bluff after all. Kirill would have to bring this up the next time Ramachandra questioned his motives in not wanting to interrogate one of his own kind.

Elias looked away first. Most people did. But when his eyes met Kirill’s again, his face was twisted in a smile of contempt. “You’ve tried out a few different personas on me. This is just one more.”

He did a good job at keeping the fear out of his voice. But a few scraps of memory leaked through. That dentist again. The afternoon he had spent frantically pacing through his house as he waited for the child to come home.

“You’re good at holding your emotions at bay,” said Kirill. “Even when it comes to the things that matter most to you. And you’ve gotten better at it, when it comes to the child. Or at least you’ve tried to get better. That’s what you meant earlier, isn’t it?”

“You left early yesterday.” Elias’s too-even tone was mockery in itself, because they both knew why Kirill had left early. “I had plenty of time to work on it.”

“Which is why I plan on trying something different today,” said Kirill. “No more cat and mouse, digging up emotional wounds only for you to slap a bandage over them. It’s time for a more direct approach.”

He leaned in, his face perfectly expressionless. A flicker of fear-memory from Elias rewarded him.

“We can hurt you here,” he said. “I imagine you already have a good idea of how You wouldn’t have worked so hard at keeping other people away, otherwise.”

A flash of memory. The one from yesterday, the corpse sewn shut down the front. Then a woman in Elias’s bunker, huddled in the corner, her arms striped with angry red burn scars.

Then the child. Elias’s voice calling his name in a crowded grocery store. Elias’s heart squeezing tight in his chest—Kirill felt it too.

Elias waving at the child as he walked onto the school bus, a forced smile plastered on his face. Watching him disappear into its yellow maw.

Then back to that afternoon—pacing, pacing, pacing.

Everything came back to the child. Even this.

Not the ghost boy this time, and not the fire. Only the child.

He didn’t understand why. But he could work with—

His vision went white. He opened his eyes onto an unfamiliar room. A stranger sat across the table from him, a stranger with tired eyes and several days’ worth of stubble. “Where am—”

His phone buzzed. He blinked at the reminder on the screen for a second, not understanding. Then it came back, with the now-familiar disorientation of a swirl of draining water in reverse, a tornado sweeping through and leaving his old memories in his wake. As always, everything felt slightly askew, as if when the memories had come back, none of them had quite landed in the proper place.

“I had a feeling you would try that again.” Kirill picked up the metal bracelet. He reached across the table and fastened it around Elias’s wrist, just behind the cuff. Elias tensed at his touch, but didn’t resist.

Then he pulled back his fist and punched Elias in the nose.

Bone snapped. Elias jerked back with a cry. Blood flooded from his nostrils, dripping onto his gray shirt, onto the metal table. On his shirt, it looks like a spill of ketchup or juice. On the table, it coalesced in discrete drops that gleamed red under the light.

Elias stared at him, dazed, uncomprehending. People didn’t tend to expect violence from Kirill. Not after he had spent hours doing nothing but talking. It was as if they thought violence was an either-or, a yes-or-no—a person like him either used it from the start, or not at all.

The fear-memories changed from a trickle to a steady stream, flowing out of Elias along with his blood.

“You’re just making me less likely to want to keep up this game,” Kirill said. “The initial capture team said you looked like you were trying to use a power at first, but the pain of our pyrokinetic’s fire distracted you.” He looked down at the blood on the table. “So I know there’s at least one way to keep you from using your power against me. I was willing to indulge you at first. No longer.”

He shifted his gaze to the metal band around Elias’s wrist.

Elias followed his gaze. “What does that do?”

“Try to blank my memory again,” said Kirill, “and find out.”

Another fear-memory squeezed out, some childhood monster from a nightmare, useless. Then Elias took another of his deep breaths, and the flow of memories cut off.

“I’m not the only Enhanced working here,” Kirill said. “Some of us have powers more suited to physical interrogation. On the whole, I think you’d rather talk to me.”

He had no idea whether what he was saying was true. He assumed it was. But he didn’t spend enough time here to know.

He hoped it was true. If it wasn’t, and Elias did require pain to motivate him, he would have to do it by hand.

He had done that kind of thing before. He knew how it was done. He didn’t do it often. It wasn’t what he preferred. Even now, his knuckles were sticky with Elias’s blood. Breaking bodies was messy. Kirill preferred working with minds.

Elias kept up his slow breathing, but another memory leaked out anyway. Kirill expected a memory of pain, since that was where Elias’s thoughts should have been focused. Instead, he was back in that grocery store, calling the child’s name.

Another memory. The child walked in the front door with a backpack hanging off one shoulder, his head hung low, a purpling bruise on his cheek. Elias’s stern voice, vibrating in Kirill’s chest as if it were his own. Who did this to you?

The child. Always the child.

And that wasn’t a memory of fear.

He blinked away the memory and focused on Elias’s face. There was fear there, yes. But less than he expected. The skin around his eyes was creased with what he had come to recognize from Elias as grief. Elias’s jaw was tight with anger.

Then Elias’s face went blank.

Kirill pressed the control button at his belt. Elias jerked back in his chair as a shock slammed through him from the bracelet. His eyes went wide and unfocused. His fingers clawed at the table. He gagged on the blood from his nose.

When the shock faded, Elias was panting. He stared down at the bracelet.

“I said you would find out what would happen if you tried getting into my memory again,” said Kirill. “For your own sake, I would advise not wasting any more time that way.”

Elias didn’t answer. He slumped over the table, his breath ragged. He looked up from under his eyelashes at Kirill. He narrowed his eyes in wordless defiance.

Kirill kept his face blank, his voice even. Being cold was simple. It was the next best thing to being nothing.

“Tell me about the child,” he said.

“You’re asking questions now?” Elias asked. “I thought you were going to take everything you wanted from my memory without bothering to ask permission.”

“I told you,” said Kirill, “I’m tired of that game. I’d rather hear you tell me directly. Then we’ll move on to the other questions I have for you.”

“Questions about my network.”

“Of course. What else?”

“Then why not start there?” Elias shook his cuffed hands, holding the bracelet out to Kirill. “You’ve already shown me you’ll hurt me if I don’t do what you want. Why not go straight to trying to shock the answers out of me?”

Because a man who can resist his own grief so well won’t flinch at physical pain.

Because you fear for him more than you fear for your own survival, and I’d like to know why. That could be useful to me.

He didn’t answer Elias’s question aloud. He only asked one of his own. “Is he yours? You never answered earlier.”

Elias held his gaze. His eyes were almost black now. “I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now.”

A trickle of memory. Anger, fear. The child was there, of course. Always the child. But the memories held nothing he could use. He let them fade into the background.

“The woman isn’t Laina,” he said. “Who is the child’s mother? Does Laina know you had a family before her?”

“If you’re thinking of getting to me through my first wife, don’t bother. She’s a stranger to me now.” But a sharp bolt of fear carried the grocery-store memory to Kirill on the wake of his words.

Kirill let it go for now. The wife wasn’t really who he wanted. Her disappearance would raise questions. Covering up Elias’s disappearance had been difficult enough for PERI.

“The memories stop after the boy reaches a certain age,” he said. “Nine? Ten? I’ve never been good at estimating children’s ages.”

Elias didn’t answer. His dark gaze threatened to swallow Kirill, like he was falling into the night sky.

Kirill stared right back. Keeping his gaze cold was as instinctual as breathing. “It must have been hard on him, being taken so young. Do ten-year-olds still cry for their parents when they’re afraid?”

Memory slammed in on on him. A birthday party. The dark-haired boy sitting sullenly in a chair, arms crossed, lip sticking out in a pout. Elias standing over him, face tightly creased in a frown he could feel on his own face. When you get a gift, you say thank you. You’re not a baby. Don’t act like one.

There were eight candles on the cake.

Kirill blinked away the memory. “Eight,” he said. “Thank you. I told you I was no good at estimating ages.”

“That was cruel.” Elias’s voice was even. He didn’t look away.

“You could have told me what I wanted to know. You didn’t. I used the tool I had at hand.”

“When you always carry a weapon with you, it’s difficult to resist the temptation to use it.”

“What weapons did the child have?” Kirill asked. “Did he have powers?”

Elias’s anger hadn’t faded. He knew because the flow of memory hadn’t stopped. As Kirill spoke, the memories shifted as Kirill’s words affected the flow of Elias’s thoughts.

The child swung on a swing set, younger and smaller than he had been when he was taken. He let go at the top, and hung weightless in the air. Elias’s breath caught in his chest. The boy hung suspended for an endless second, then plummeted to the earth. Even as Elias cried out in alarm, his chest released in a wave of relief.

A year or two later. Elias watched as the boy played with a friend, a blond girl in a long dress. As they argued, he watched for any sudden acquiescence on the girl’s part. He watched as they built a tall block tower, holding his breath for the tower to stay in place long after it should have fallen. Watching. Always watching.

“No powers,” he said. “But you were afraid he would have them.”

“I thought it would spare him,” said Elias. “I didn’t know about the blood tests yet.”

“You mentioned those when we met. Is that how they found him? A routine screening—something for school, maybe.”

Elias didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

Eight years old. No active abilities. Caught in a routine blood test.

That would be enough.

He stood. “Thank you,” he said. “We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

As he left the room, a wave of fear-memories followed him.

---

Tagged: @cakeinthevoid @suspicious-whumping-egg

Ask to be added or removed from taglist.

[wjbs-aus]

hello, I know absolutely nothing about Ultrakill besides gun, flesh and

COIN

Please enlighten me. Do not hold back. I want to hear every excruciating detail, from lore to gameplay.

and if you want to know *exactly* how much I know, all the media of ultrakill I have consumed is random pictures of the sentient security camera and Gohrdahn’s video on SPARECHANGE%. also asking people who have no idea what’s going on about what’s going on is funny, so so far all I’ve picked up is that you’re a robot angel thing from hell and you fighting your way to heaven. Machines killed everyone and I wonder if the protagonist finds the metal areas more disturbing than the fleshy areas; after all, they’re seeing what is basically their insides, no?

No offense, but wow is that summary incorrect! Let's rectify that!

I'll only be covering the lore because, even though I've finished the game (so far), I don't fully understand the mechanics.

Be warned that some information may be incorrect since my memory sucks, and it also may become outdated in the future, as the game is still in development.

Also, I really recommend just playing the game. It's very good so far!

Anyway,

The ULTRALORE

Long ago, humanity had a Big War™ and built robots powered by blood. Remember that last point, it will be important later. One of these robots is our protagonist, V1; a blue robot with large, glowing wings that it uses to store its weapons, Hammerspace-style.

Eventually, the war ended, but humanity still used the robots for stuff like security. They also discovered Hell, which coincidentally happened to be structured identically to Dante Alighieri's interpretation, as seen in the Divine Comedy (Limbo -> Lust -> Gluttony -> Greed -> Wrath -> Heresy -> Violence -> Fraud -> Treachery).

An indeterminate amount of time before this, Minos, king of the layer of Lust, tried to improve the living conditions of his people, believing it to be wrong that they were being judged for the "crime" of love. He was killed by the archangel Gabriel (yes, that one) and had his soul imprisoned within the Flesh Prison, a half-demon half-angel living cage, forced to watch his gigantic corpse destroy his own realm. At another point in time (though I am not sure when it happened in relation to the last one), King Sisyphus (yes, that one) tried to rebel against Heaven, and was killed; unlike Minos, whose body lived on as a gigantic Husk, Sisyphus was beheaded and crucified within a secret chamber inside a pyramid in the Greed layer, while his soul was imprisoned within the Flesh Panopticon.

Back to the present, V1 got a younger, more-advanced sibling named V2, designed for security purposes and equipped with an explosive punch. Meanwhile, the people exploring Hell discovered that the entire realm is alive.

And then all of humanity died of probably robot-related causes.

So naturally, the robots made a beeline for Hell; after all,

MANKIND IS DEAD. BLOOD IS FUEL. HELL IS FULL. BABA IS YOU

One of these robots is V1. It entered Hell through some kinda funky mechanical entrance thing, where it encountered other Machines, as well as Husks (the embodiments of human souls) and Demons (statues filled with Magic Meat™ that animates them and gives them powers), collecting blood as it went. Eventually, V1 reached the gates of Hell (which, much like in the Divine Comedy, have the phrase "Abandon hope all ye who enter here" written across them), defeated the Cerberi (a pair of Demons resembling simplified versions of the Thinker), and entered Limbo.

The ULTRAKILL version of Limbo is interesting, though fairly basic compared to the later layers; the "sky" is made of screens, ambient nature-sounds come from poorly-hidden speakers, and there are folly-like "ruins" everywhere. V1 continues its journey, fighting the Hideous Mass (a large Demon resembling a scorpion or maybe lobster with the Creation Of Adam carved onto the tops of its claws, along with a harpoon-tail, and lots of exposed demonic flesh leaking out from large gaps in its armour) on the way. Eventually, it reaches a serene church, where it encounters V2. After a long battle, V2 escapes, dropping its left arm; V1 takes it and leaves, entering Lust.

Lust is a gigantic Cyberpunk cityscape, with Minos's gigantic Husk towering in the distance.

It's one of the most beautiful areas in the entire game.

As V1 travels through the layer, it gets closer to Minos, until the dead king himself attacks V1; it kills him, and a gateway to Gluttony appears in his throat.

At time of writing, Gluttony is the most conceptually-obvious layer, being a big organic thing with wobbly meat-walls, giant searchlight-eyes, spine-bridges and lakes of stomach acid. Shortly after arriving, V1 is contacted by a mildly-peeved Gabriel, telling it to "turn back now", as "the walls of this palace are not for your kind". Naturally, lacking any sense of self-preservation, nor any percievable emotion, V1 proceeds to battle Gabriel in front of a gigantic beating heart. Gabriel loses, swears his revenge, and proceeds to have a tantrum and call V1 an "insignificant fuck", then teleports away in a blinding flash of light. V1 drops down the hole in the bottom of the arena...

Disgrace. Humiliation. Unseemly and unwelcome at the feet of The Council. Their eyes ablaze with bitter resentment, glaring through Gabriel's wounds of body and soul, bore outward for all to see. "Has this one abandoned the way of our creator?" "It is unworthy of its Holy Light." "The Father's Light is indomitable." "This one sees fit to squander it." Their words resonated in Gabriel's limbs, coursing through as lightning upon wire, a searing hiss that would strike lessers deaf and blind. The Holy Light within him, an unstoppable force of divine fury. Insurmountable for mere Objects. This he knew. "Holy Council, my devotion to our creator is absolute. I have never strayed from the will of The Father, but a machine-" "You dare imply the might of The Father could be shaken by mere objects?" "Impossible." "Heresy." "Unspeakable." "Heresy." "Heresy." "Silence." "Your treachery will not be tolerated. As punishment, The Father's Light shall be severed from your body. You have 24 hours before the last of its embers die out." "And you with them." "Prove your loyalty." "Unmake your mistakes." As the Light was ripped from his being, Gabriel's screams were silenced in the hiss of gospel in praise of God. A boiling anguish to which even the fires of Hell could not compare. Through the blaze of torment a single burning hatred was forged anew. If the machines seek blood, he would give it freely; and with such fury, even metal will bleed.

... before landing in Greed, a vast desert with literal golden sand, with recreations of various famous landmarks. V1 fights a Sisyphean Insurrectionist, and later re-encounters V2, who has a new hookshot arm, but manages to beat the newer robot; the two end up in a high-speed chase down the side of a pyramid, but eventually V1 manages to get V2 to fall, with it landing hard on a nearby bridge, turning into a large, red stain.

V2 is canonically dead.

V1 grabs its arm, and leaves for Wrath.

Once upon a time, Wrath was the River Styx (yes, that one), before it suddenly turned into vast ocean. The souls of the damned literally fight for air, while those who lose hope fall to the bottom and [REDACTED FOR SPOILER REASONS].

V1 fights through a flooded underground complex, before ending up outside on a stormy night; they fight through many enemies, and manage to summon a gigantic cruise ship captained by a skeletal Ferryman, leading to ULTRAKILL's only moral choice at time of writing; using the revolver's Marksman mode, it is possible to throw a coin to the Ferryman. Alternatively, V1 battles the Ferryman (who is a gigantic Gabriel fanboy that carves demons into enemy-protecting Idols). Either way, this opens the path to inside the boat, which is attacked by a vast sea-monster; after escaping the now-capsized boat, V1 fights the Leviathan (a gigantic demon whose flesh was made from the Husks who gave up and sank to the bottom of the Ocean Styx; its heart, which sticks out of its head, has multiple angelic spears impaled into it, and constantly screams). V1 defeats the Leviathan, which explodes into a shower of blood, and the ocean splits open to reveal the entrance to Heresy.

Heresy is the most "hellish" layer yet; it's bright red, there's fire everywhere, and a lot of the buildings have goat-skulls on the walls. Gabriel, more furious after having his divine link severed, awaits V1. He goes off on one at it for killing everything in Hell, then tries to kill it again.

He loses, but this time, he's more graceful. Gabriel leaves to think, and his giant pipe-organ opens, revealing the entrance to Violence. That is where the story ends for now.

Silence. Introspection. How many had he killed? Had he ever thought to count? How much cruelty did he embody... and to what end? How many did he condemn to hell and who did it benefit..? Two defeats at the hands of the machine had changed Gabriel. The world of the one supposed Will of God was now shattered and only he was left to put the pieces back together. They collected before the light of a dying fire that fresh fuel couldn't sustain, this new light showing the truth to Gabriel: The pieces never fit together to begin with. The supposed Council of "the people" who boasted a God that wasn't there. Gone. Vanished. The Council still chased after the light of God's fire, their memory of its words and will grown twisted and warped, and the rest of the aimless masses of Heaven follow their footsteps. The angels still act in The Father's name but His kingdom has changed. Now the fire was dying, sputtering out as the heat failed to gain purchase. Gabriel looked upon the embers with a perfect clarity. He drew his blade and held it in contrast to the dying light. In its reflection he saw a weapon reborn, no longer wielded by the will of another, but his own. He knew words alone would never sway the masses. He chose to do something drastic. Death stains the auditorium. The littered corpses of the once mighty council now strewn against its surfaces, their last gasps of life dripping down the dissident blade of Gabriel's sword. The last councilor, now backed up to a wall, scrambles for words between panicked breaths as death approaches with measured steps. "W-wait! Y-you can't do this! Out status forbids it! This is treason, heresy, murder! We are the supreme authority, our law commands you! "You command nothing. Your words hold no power over me, or anyone else. Lest you truly believe you can talk my blade back into its sheath." "B-but the people are on our side! The citizens of Heaven know that we are just!" "The masses only follow you out of fear and desperation. I will show them there is nothing to be afraid of, for there is not species nor origin, vested rank or holy status that will stop the sharp edge of a sword. We all bleed the same blood, and the cushions of your thrones have made you weak and impotent." "P-please, Gabriel, see reason! The council follows the will of The Father! You seek to go against our creato-" "Face it, brother. God is Dead. The fire is gone. You're chasing phantoms." Gabriel's silhouette now towers over the councilor, his shadow cast upon a soon lifeless corpse. He raises his sword for the final cut as the crying mess on the floor stammers out its final feeble argument. "B-b-but the Father's light! Without me you cannot hope to reconnect with it! I-i-if you kill me, you'll be dead in a matter of hours!" ... "I know." A clean, silent cut glides through the councilor's neck, severing his spine with elegance and ease. His head falls onto the marble floor, the rest of his body following soon after. Bereft of status but brimming with purpose, Gabriel gave a final message to the angels amassed at the gates of the auditorium before leaving Heaven for the very last time. His arm outstretched, without a word, the people saw. In the silence the message rang out to the far ends of the cosmos.

The terminals encountered in Prime Sanctums and other secret levels reveal a bit more; most importantly that A. the terminals get bored, explaining the infinite Cyber Grind mode, and B. God regrets condemning Lucifer to Hell.

There's more, but honestly, play the game. It's really good.

that moment when you realise that Gorillaz lore is probably easier to explain than ULTRAKILL

[definitelynotplanetfall]

HEY GLIDEFUCKS

I finally got Aerofoil working on linux by digging around in the git shit. The locally-run version with the usable level editor and the theoretical possibility of importing houses.

There are also no official instructions on how to do this correctly in the places you would expect official instructions to be so I guess this is a tutorial now.

download the full source code from the main repository. Do not download the stable releases - there were changes that fix the linux version after the last stable release.

MOSTLY, you want to follow the instructions in the LINUX.txt file in Aerofoil-master, however IT LIES.

Firstly, you must edit the file CMakeFiles/AerofoilX.dir/link.txt to output the executable at a path that isn't already a directory. Specifically you must change the AerofoilX near the end of the file after the -o to some other name. There is even a mention of this problem in the thread discussing the fixes but it's such an easy change I don't understand why they didn't just apply it at the same time. If you do not do this, the game will fail to compile.

If you make install, I was unable to find an executable produced anywhere (it did copy some source files to system folders though) but maybe I am fucking stupid. If you just make you will end up with a functional executable in the same location as the sources.

You DO need to grab the Packaged directory from the windows version of Aerofoil. Why it is not included with the source still perplexes our top scientists. However, you need to put it in the same directory as the Aerofoil executable, NOT (parent)/lib/aerofoil like the LINUX.txt states (at least if you make the executable in place).

Clown documentation.

User houses end up at ~/.local/share/aerofoil/aerofoil/Houses. Aerofoil has zip-formatted houses so you can stick custom graphics and stuff in there with any modern archive tool.

Alex Diener's big archive of old houses has most of them in the obsolete .sit format, which unhappily I have not found a way to convert on Linux. Perhaps I should pester him about this, as he is the Known Glider Archive Guy and there exists a windows tool for the conversion. (Given how poorly trying to run the pre-compiled binaries of Aerofoil through wine went I have not bothered attempting this myself.)

[atsoraasayoma]

Takari Week 2024

Fourth Day: Fourth Contact:

Title: Digimon ‘Whirled’ Tour Misunderstandings

Summary: Hikari, covered in ink and tired from her journey while traveling home on Imperialdramon after her trip to HongKong has some interesting conversations with Koushirou and Takeru. These talks lead to some misunderstandings due to some poorly timed phrasing from their partners and even hers as well where she will have to clear her name.

***

It had been forever since Hikari had seen Takeru. Ok, maybe less than twenty four hours thanks to Imperialdramon’s blistering light speed taxi that dropped them off to all corners of the world and then back again...But still. She couldn’t wait to see him again yet wished it could have been under better circumstances.

The briny scent of the ink from the three brother’s Octomon Digimon clung to her hair like a sticky sweat. The burning sun and dusty winds also did not help, Hikari feeling worse for wear. Koushiro himself had come out of it unfazed, having somehow been so interlocked and focused on his planning/computer work it shielded him from any Digital or environmental hazards.

Hikari had not noticed she had been staring at him, Koushiro looking a bit nervous, pausing, and then resuming typing on his computer. “Hikarichan,” he said, “I can’t concentrate when you’re looking at me like that. Do I have something on my face or something?”

Hikari shook her head a bit. “N-no,” she said, “Its just that I’m just surprised. How is it that I look like I’ve walked through a wilderness and a pen factory, but you look like you just got out of the shower? We were both at the same place so I’m just wondering how can you be so clean after our last adventure?”

The typing of hands tapping on Koushiro's keyboard immediately ceased. His eyes locked onto the screen, but as if he was looking at something else.

“Koushirousan?” she questioned, Koushiro not turning away.

Sweat beaded down Koushiro's face, his breathing shallow.

“Oh no,” Tentomon said, crawling up on his back inspecting him with his pincers. “It’s happening again.”

Hikari stared at them both confused. “I’m sorry, did I miss something?”

“You wouldn’t know it,” he answered, “But Koushiro has what you call post traumatic stress disorder,” he said. “My Koushiro has been living with it for a long time.”

“PTSD?!” Hikari said a bit shocked. “I had no idea! I can’t believe that our Digimon Adventuring left that much of an impression on you! But you’ve never showed that side of yourself before,” she said calming down. “What changed?”

“Hmm?” he said, turning towards Koushiro, Koushiro weakly glancing at him and nodding his head.

“Oh, you don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“The terror of soccer.”

“Terror of soccer?”

She glanced up, Koushiro's face turning even more despairing as if he had just accepted he would die. His hands trembled, his eyes shivering as if not wanting to relive something unpleasant.

“You see,” Tentomon buzzed manner of factually with his pincers, “Koushiro told me about it. Back when he was little he often went to Taichi’s soccer games.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” she said, Tentomon glancing at Koushiro and patting his back.

“But, that’s the problem!” he gestured holding them both up. “That was back when Taichi was not, shall we say, very good.”

“Oh?”

“I still remember it quite well,” Koushiro said his breathing shallow. “Hey Koushiro! Koushiro look at me! Watch this! You’re not paying attention!” he said repeating inflections, placing his thumb and index finger spread apart touching his cheeks so the small curve of skin between them was pressed to his lips shaking.

“I used to watch his games, but the moment I looked at my computer a soccer ball came flying at me. No matter what I did, or position I maintained, I always locked on me somehow like a heat seeking missile- even when I actually sat in a tree watching from overhead!” he said incredulously over the bizarre situation. Over time I learned how to handle such trauma,” he sighed out. “...I never want to go through such a learning curve ever again.”

“Well, that and Taichi did get better,” Tentomon said making sucking squishing sounds between his tiny fangs in his mouth, Hikari a bit creeped out by it, but realized that must have been how he laughed.

“But by that time my Koushiro had adapted natural reflexes towards anything coming his way. Regardless it was a soccer ball or a Digimon attack, Koushiro could dodge it or bat it away and continue his work on the computer as if nothing had happened.

“That’s...impressive,” Hikari said glancing at Koushiro a bit differently as if he was a battle hardened soldier. It was no wonder he got so perturbed so easily when he multi tasked and someone interrupted him.

“Regardless,” Koushiro said, “The only way to snap him back out of this was either green tea or...lavish praise.”

“What, like saying ‘good job?” Hikari questioned.

“Yes, but you’d have to take it up a notch by a scale of 100!”

“Huh,” Hikari pondered.

“And it can’t just be one or two people. It has to be everyone present. Even you Tailmon.”

“Even me?”

“His pride won’t let him recover until everyone in the room acknowledges him.”

“Huh, you’ve got it tough,” Tailmon acknowledged. “All right, I’m in.”

“Very well,” Tentomon said. “I’ll start. Follow my lead,” he said holding up his claws and waiving them as if conducting a symphony. “And a one a two,” he said, “And a now! Koushiro is an outstanding upstanding citizen!”

“That’s a compliment?” Hikari said having a hard time believing they were actually doing this.

“Anything works!” Tentomon said still holding up his claws. “In fact I accidentally told him one time he was the smartest pizza maker! I think he just honed in on the ‘smartest’ part.”

“I think I get it now,” Hikari said having understood. “We just need to inflate his ego.”

“Let’s try it Hikari,” Tailmon smiled nodding her head

With that all three of them started singing Koushiro's praises one by one, some of them even starting to overlap together, this continuing on for several minutes, Hikari starting to feel dazed at the chaos of their words clashing like three symphonies overlapping and their notes narrowly avoiding colliding into each other. Worse, she had been running out of things to say!

Koushiro seemed to still be out of it, Hikari's’ turning having come around again.

“Hikari?” Tailmon said looking at her expectantly.

“Don’t stop now!” Tentomon said trying to keep everyone together. “We need one last push! Anything! Make it up if you have to!”

Hikari searched her mind this way and that, and knew she just had to say something. “K-Koushirou is the only one who can handle my mom’s special recipes!” she yelled raising her voice, Tentomon stopping.

Tentomon stopped, the imaginary rhythm he had been connecting coming to an end.

Koushirou stared at his computer, blinked his eyes a couple of times and glanced up at them all having regained his composure.

“I’ll have you know,” he said, “Those recipes are delicious,” he said. “I could eat blueberry bean spinach casserole any day of the week!”

“Koushirou!” Tentomon said relieved giving him a hug, “You’re back with us!”

“Yeah, I’m here,” he said calmly typing on his computer again. “Though, I don’t remember why I stopped working to begin with. Did something happen?”

Tailmon and Hikari exchanged glances, both of them silently acknowledging the same thing: Koushirou had become so traumatized he had blocked the memory out completely.

Don’t worry about it. Oh look,” Tentomon said flying over to the barrier wall and sticking to it. “Looks like we’re at the next stop!”

***

Eventually Imperialdramon had reached the other locations, the Digidestined greeting each other and catching up, Hikari a bit winded from this Reunited Digidestined Celebration. Lastly they started to slow down landing on the ground with a bit of a rumble, Hikari wishing Imperialdramon had seat belts, but thankfully none of them suffered jet lag...except Jou of course being comforted by Gomamon.

As it slowed down, Hikari felt her heart leap as Taichi and Takeru came up. A pretty girl with blue eyes and blonde hair and a Floramon waving at them. Both Taichi and Takeru waved back,Taichi grinning stupidly which meant that Hikari knew by his mannerisms he had gotten involved more than he probably should have. But that shouldn’t be a problem.

As the other Digidestined greeted them, Takeru walked over to the gleaming blue light and leaned back into the wall sighing out.

“Welcome back...Takerukun,” she said having turned away from him a bit.

“You to Hikarichan. Felt like I haven’t seen you in forever, even though it’s only been less than a day. Kind of weird huh?” he smiled Hikari turning his way, realizing he must have also missed her. She couldn’t react too strongly though in case he might think she cared for him more than what she was letting on, even if it was true.

“Mhm. Time flies when you’re...on Imperialdramon,” she said, Takeru just staring at her.

“And I thought I was tired,” he said lifting up his head and sliding to the ground, Hikari just glancing down at him a bit anxious.

“Hikari, you’ve been standing up this whole time. You sit too,” Tailmon said grabbing her by the hands and making her sit down next to him.

She then sat down as well, Patamon having found comfort curled up resting on Takeru’s hat.

She glanced down at Tailmon who had already passed out, her head nodded down against the wall.

“Our Digimon are really something,” he said. “They work so hard for us. We couldn’t ask for better partners.”

“Mhm,” she said stroking Tailmon’s fur, her ears folding back a bit.

Takeru glanced up at Patamon and tickled his ears a bit, both Digimon mumbling in their sleep.

“Anything interesting happen?” Takeru asked. “You know, aside from probably needing a shower.”

Hikari glanced away from him wishing he had not noticed that. Of course, that would have been impossible.

“Aside from this, nothing,” she said not wanting to talk about herself.“What about you?” Hikari asked, “Taichi was smiling so wide something must have happened. And he’ll never tell me, just get mad and tell me not to worry about it.”

“That sounds like Taichisan all right,” Takeru chuckled. “But, no nothing I could think o-”

“-Takeru,” Patamon moaned sweetly in his sleep, “Why are you kissing that girl?”

His eyes froze, Hikari staring at him, her mouth open.

She wanted to say something, but refrained herself at least for now. She could only could think about that blonde haired girl Katherine she had seen him wave to earlier. She was really pretty too.

Hikari pursed her lips holding them shut not wanting to imagine him kissing another girl. She could have sworn she heard voices in her head saying ‘What’s wrong with them?’ And another voice saying ‘The Lovebirds are being dramatic again’ but she just looked up at him expectantly for an answer.

She wanted to ask it. To ask if it was true he did that to say-

“-All right Hikarichan,” Takeru smirked, “I know you want to ask me if I really kissed a girl. Probably the Katherine girl, am I right?”

Hikari lowered her head and nodded.

“Well, I actually did. And Taichi too!”

Hikari felt her heart sink and then her stomach twist hurt and then horribly confused at the same time.

What kind of situation or relationship would Takeru and her brother and Katherine have to be in to...have such a...relationship? She imagined Katherine wasn’t so nice and had them chained like dogs enacting all kinds of torture on them with chains and a whip and the dogs enjoying it.

“Hikarichan? Hikarichan?” Takeru said having interrupted her imagination.

“Hmm?” she said glancing at Takeru like a dog as if he was beneath her. She couldn’t believe the Takeru she knew so well had-

“-I think you’re misunderstanding something,” he said with a wry smile. “In France people greet each other with a little kiss on the cheek.”

“On the cheek?” she said turning her face his way.

“Mhm, It was pretty awkward for me and Taichi but we managed to do it near the end of our adventure there. Part of my family has a french background. It felt kind of...familiar. I don’t remember ever going there though. It must have been while I was little.”

“Oh,” she said, Her face staring back down not wanting to look up at him. She should have realized the context of all of this. Why was she so flustered? Takeru was her friend. He had the right to do anything he wanted to. They were not going out or anything. It felt wrong of her to even think of him in a negative light.

She sighed out. “I’m sorry Takerukun,” she said. “I could only imagine about what you said when the both of you had kissed her.”

“Right?” he smiled as if a bit relieved. “I mean it’s not like I would come to any weird misunderstanding about you if I heard something about-”

-Tailmon meowed out loud like a yawn, holding up one paw weakly as if warding something away. “No, get away. Hikari, you can’t allow all three of them to surround you like that! Those brothers are dangerous.”

Hikari stared down a bit nervously, a strange pressure glaring down at her from overhead. She slowly lifted up her head to see Takeru smiling, but it wasn’t a happy smile. It seemed kind of...angry.

“Well, I’m sure YOU must be tired from your journey Hikarichan,” he said as if looking past the situation. “I’m sure all the attention really must have been exhausting. Since YOU put yourself in that situation maybe YOU should just sleep it off,” he said, Hikari irritated by his inflections.

“N-no That’s not it!” She protested. “I didn’t choose to! They came at me!”

“What? They came at you Hikarichan?” Takeru said turning seriously, his now icy blue eyes glancing her way and cracking his knuckles in a fist that somehow made Takeru look not only incredibly attractive to her, but also kind of dangerous.

Hikari didn’t know what to do anymore about the situation. She hit her head back against the blue barrier of Imperialdramon wanting to snap herself out of it. She couldn’t lie. Just like she imagined Takeru having once been that Katherine’s ‘Pet’ she couldn’t stop her mind from seeing Takeru beat up a bunch of guys, Takeru shielding her in a seductive manner. It was even worse, or in this case better than Miyako sharing her romantic fan fiction stories with her.

“So, did you get their names?” he asked. “Maybe I’ll have Imperialdramon fly back after everyone else gets off.”

“No, don’t do that,” she said with an exhausted smile. “I can already tell what you’re thinking. But really it was no worse than Daisuke if there was three of him.”

Takeru’s eyes lit up a bit as if having snapped out of it. He also leaned back against the barrier resting his head against it. “I don’t know...if I could win against that,” he sighed with a smile.

“Thankfully I’m gone now though,” Hikari agreed. “I might have had a nervous break down if I had stayed any longer.”

Takeru snickered Hikari returning his back with a sweet smile. She really did miss him. Despite what they thought happened to each other, it was just one big misunderstanding after all. Maybe he even felt jealous too?”

The thought seemed so pleasant, Hikari’s mind drifting back to her imagination about Takeru. She couldn’t get that image out of his mind...in a good way.

“Hikari!” Miyako exclaimed running over to her and sliding down next to her. “Oh, good, your warm. I have the latest chapter on my fan fiction by the way. I wanted to know if you wanted to read it.”

“Maybe later,” she said. “It’s good to see you Miyakochan. “Did you have fun?”

“Of course!” she said. “And I got to meet Yuri, one of the cutest boys I’ve ever met! Man, I’m so lucky! I probably had the best romantic chance meeting yet out of all of us. And there was no weird misunderstandings,” she said both Takeru and Hikari smiling at each other, as if it was there own little secret. “In fact, I’m sure none of us had any-

A shocked gasp escaped from in front of them as everyone looked at Ken.

Both Sora and Mimi stood on either side of him both angry and demanding.

“What do you mean Ken clinged to a little girl?!” they said in unison towering over him.

“Wormmon!” Ken snapped agitated. “Phrasing! Phrasing!”

Hikari couldn’t help but smile just a little more matching Takeru’s smile with her own.

Just then Iori walked over to them a bit wary of them.

“Whatever’s the matter Iorikun?” Hikari asked.

“Come have a seat with us!” Takeru added.

Iori started to slowly back away from them. “You look like your enjoying this,” he said. “Is it that fun to take joy in watching one of your friends suffer?”

“What?” Hikari said turning towards Takeru.

“That’s not what we’re doing,” he said. “Really Iorisan you have such an imagination.”

“I’m not imagining!” he said defensively. “And you’re not answering my question!”

“N-no you’re just misunderstanding,”Takeru said getting up. “Look we’re almost back to Japan!”

Hikari adored him as he continued playing with Iori, dodging his question, Takeru turning back towards her with gladness.

She smiled back, Miyako glancing up at her. “Seriously, would you two just cut it out and stop telepathically communicating while smiling? I haven’t gotten that far even in my fan fictions!”

She could only be amused by her, Hikari knowing this must have been exactly how Takeru felt. She missed that about him; His jokes, his witty sense of humor, his protective eyes that would cut someone to pieces if anything threatened her. Sometimes he even made her feel safer than her own Digimon who could go to the mega level!

She glanced at him a bit differently affectionately retaining the image in his mind of the Takeru she knew so well. Whether being serious or joking and laughing with her, Takeru was Takeru. And no misunderstanding or fantasy could ever change that.

[enbyleighlines]

Leigh plays Tellius prt 23

Ugh. Featured above is what I believe to be the most frustrating decision Radiant Dawn made. Astrid had so much potential! She's from a noble family, but left to become a knight so that she could escape an arranged marriage! (Likely inspired by seeing her elder sisters enter into unhappy marriages.) She's timid, but determined to become stronger. She starts out weak, but grows fast, due to her special skill. The fact that she becomes demoted to Makalov's devoted groupie is so disappointing.

I mean, in comparison to her original betrothed, Makalov is a vast improvement. But that's more of a comment on Lekain than Makalov.

And here we have the most baffling decision Radiant Dawn has made. I don't hate it, I'm just... confused. Why did Devdan change his name? Why is he pretending to be a different person? Did he actually lose his memory or is this a bit? Or is it a poorly designed scheme to keep himself out of trouble?

I don't know. I do wish Devdan/Danved had more story importance. He seems like a cool character. I especially liked his base conversation with Ike in PoR. If only we could have had more of that.

Crimean Royal Knight Fifth Platoon Captain Kieran hath returned!!! I am so happy to see this absolute buffoon. He just reads as so fruity to me. I can't wait to pair him with Oscar again. Those two were monsters in my PoR playthrough. And with Oscar's avoid bonus, they were nearly untouchable, too.

Man, this map took me so long. I went into it thinking that it would be easy. After all, most of the enemy units are fairly weak. Surely my units won't have any issue staying alive.

Oh, how wrong I was. The amount of times Marcia got sniped by an crossbow, or Geoffrey got crit by a sniper... I didn't keep count, but trust me, it was a lot. And it didn't help that the enemy and ally turns took so long, so redoing this map was a trial of patience.

At long last, however, I managed to pull through.

This part of the game is so heartbreaking. The fact that Ludveck actually sent Elincia Lucia's hair... like, that's serial killer behavior right there. And while I do think Lucia looks better with short hair, I would have much preferred it if she didn't have it chopped off against her will by the world's most evil Southern gentleman. That's a massive violation of Lucia's bodily autonomy, meant to humiliate and degrade her, and I'm again sad we don't get to murder Ludveck for this.

I've always wondered what all the people gathered here think. Are they predominantly on Elincia's side, or Ludveck's? I hope it's the former. I know Elincia isn't enjoying much popularity from the nobles, but I hope she at least has a devoted following among the common folk.

And how I pray to remove your head from your body, Ludveck. God, he's so creepy. Why are all the male villains in RD so creepy? They all have such terrible incel energy.

THE BOYS ARE BACK IN TOWN

I SAID THE BOYS ARE BACK IN TOWN

Gosh, this isn't my favorite cutscene in the game (that happens in part 3), but man this one is SO HYPE. My own complaint is that Soren is the only one who doesn't seem to have a voice actor assigned to him, aside from maybe Rhys. Even Gatrie does a little grunt at one point. But Soren is a main character! At least hire someone to do some quiet chanting in the old language. They did that for Micaiah in the first cutscene.

Oh, well. I'm too happy to complain any further. I'm just relieved to finally get the Greil Mercs back. Part 3 is probably my favorite part of the game, though part 4 is also a lot of fun. It has some of the best cutscenes in the game imo. I cannot wait to see Ranulf animated. His smooth voice and subtle little ear twitches... ah, I'm in love!

[drifloonz]

Hii Can i request glitchy red having a s/o that's similar to him? (Reader got cruelly removed by their game and got replaced) also i really like your hcs:3 keep up the writing!! :D

ofc ofc !!! ty for requesting. Once again these sort of stray into general thoughts and headcanons abt glitchy sometimes but oh well i have just learned to accept that tht just sort of Happens when i make these.

i try to make the reader / s/o in all of the headcanon posts very blank templates but if i didn't i'd probably go ham with the implied backstory. Maybe. but for now its just a "Make your own and inject it into the headcanons" typa post.

glitchy red with a similar s/o !!! Love wins

♡ glitchy honestly didn't... know something like him could even Happen again. i mean, he does and he always secretly hoped that one day someone, anyone in his game would gain sentience suddenly so he'd at least have someone else to talk to instead of himself and whatever player he had atm. and that makes you... very interesting and special to him.

♡ suffice to say, you two have a lot of shared grievances probably, and glitchy is a very rant-y person. both of you will shittalk and rant and complain about your similar situations and bond very fast over it. honestly, that's probably how you two got closer in the first place. Easy way into glitchys heart: Bitching abt things ig <3

♡ in a similar but more positive vein, you two can and will often ramble about things you did in your respective games - or even just rambling abt you two's games in general if you yourself didn't come from a pokemon game. although glitchy is very cynical and apathetic to all of it now and knew that none of the pokemon or npcs in his world really had feelings, he still likes to explain the mechanics and the pokemon to you... he wishes he could've taken one home as a pet for you two, but would that even work? would it even recognize him? would it be anything more than a piece of coding that can no longer work due to being forced into a physical form? he thinks about this more than he should.

♡ ... aaanyways, on a lighter topic, due to that train of thought he probably gets you two a cat or something, after extensive research and reading bc he does not want to accidentally handle any animal poorly. it's name is up to you but if you just wanna go with whatever glitchy chose it's name is like, mittens. or something really basic. or it's pikachu/pika/chu or something because as much as he loves being free he does feel odd without pokemon so naming a cat that sort of helps but not really.

♡ i like to think if you did have a pokemon or a favorite though it'd be eevee just to match how glitchys favorite is probably pikachu or one/all of the 3 starters bc he's unoriginal

♡ do you think their replacements date. This isn't even a headcanon this is just something i went "oh if they both have replacements... wait."

♡ frlg red and whoever the hell replaced you kiss under the moonlight. every time we touch amv . Ok anyways back to the actual headcanons i apologize

♡ assuming you two both somehow Physically Manifested irl and aren't just somehow visiting or talking to eachother in you twos digitized forms, you are both adjusting to the real world. and trying to help eachother with it. But since neither of you are used to it, it isn't going that well. Very odd and weird couple that look unreal, while ones also glitching out of reality every 5 seconds casually having a walk in the park. It's normal. Love wins

♡ presumably, you also are as touch starved and affection-starved as glitchy due to your whole ordeal being so similar. you two will be ALL over each other. PDA and general affection and touch are CONSTANT. no matter what. you two are so lovey-dovey it's almost comical

♡ i've stated this in a few other headcanons but legit do anything affectionate to glitchy and he'll become redder than his mfing clothing. dude is so touch-starved and is also really easy to fluster and he hates it. with this s/o specifically, though, i like to think since you two are similar he'll absolutely try to get back at you by immediately doing anything to fluster you back, and it probably works... you two are just incoherent blushing messes at the end of it all

♡ most of these headcanons are just "Mutual Problems: The Thread" and i find that very funny. what being undersocialized, replaced, toyed with, abandoned, and traumatized for decades does to two mfs

♡ adding onto that you both are probably clingy with each other and get a bit of separation anxiety. glitchy is like. "Where is my fucking spouse." in his head any time you are not within his sight. my wife is soft and i like her post but in Glitchy Red and in Gender Neutral terms

♡ glitchy is sort of weird with romance. like, he knows that people date. but he's not... really socially aware of much of anything. anything he knows is through osmosis of his players or of things he overhears sometimes or something. due to this he probably just copies what he sees in media and is very cheesy about it and will give you bouquets and flowers he picked off the ground. Alternatively and probably more in character, he just doesn't do that and is very casual about his affection and love due to not knowing How To properly give affection. it's a lot of mumbled "I love you"'s and cuddles during the evening. small stuff like that.

♡ wait no. since you have very similar issues to red... concept: relationship dynamic where one person is very casual abt it and the other person is very extra and romantic and gives everything they can to the other person. you are the extra and romantic one. it makes glitchy so confused and he feels like he's undeserving of it, but it makes him fluster sm. You were from a dating sim game you have to be extra about romance /j ( unless you want it to be serious backstory i guess. reader DDLC monika type beat... )

♡ sometimes he asks what you did to players. and i .. i actually do like you being like. monika sorta where you're more clingy and attached to players. So if you choose that to be the case he finds how different your approach is to that odd. but he supposes your game was probably not as fucking glitchy constantly, or at least wasn't known for its glitches. he's partially envious of that, but part of him is glad you didn't have to endure the hell he did.

♡ you two do get sometimes recognized among the general public but are assumed to be cosplayers. whether this pisses you off or not is up to you, but i think glitchy has very mixed feelings about it. he just scowls and has a look of visible confusion on his face. he Doesn't really like socializing with anyone other than you tbh so this doesn't help, nor does he really enjoy talking about or remembering pokemon without his ok ( Good luck with that when its like the highest grossing multimedia franchise ever RIP glitchy red 2011-2023 )

♡ once again. relationship dynamic idea. you being the more outgoing social one Who is secretly sort of cracking from pressure and red being the brooding awkward blunt one. imagine you going to cons bc you like the attention from getting recognized as yourself. red is begrudgingly at your side rolling his eyes bc he doesn't like cons, probably ( although he will eye the pokemon merch with both disdain and intrigue... he will come home with a 10 foot tall pikachu and charizard plush ). people ask for pics w you sometimes. they all fuck up bc red will not allow you to leave his side even when ur taking pictures he doesn't wanna be in, and as i said in other posts, Any footage of him comes out looking like cryptid photos / they just get really fucked up in processing in... various weird ways. he finds it funny and is oddly proud of being able to screw photos up, but he'll eventually get juuust out of shot if you really want to take pictures w other people

♡ Do not put either of you two around technology, it'll fucking explode near either of you ( probably, anyways - assuming you're also glitchy and unstable like. well. glitchy is. but i assume any code made manifest into physical form like you two, glitched or otherwise, would not be able to use technology without it fucking up a little. )

♡ although glitchy can be sort of a dick sometimes, he tries to never be that way arnd you. if he makes you upset he like, immediately feels bad and apologizes, and will be there to calm you down and comfort you

♡ you prob prefer to call glitchy by red, i just mostly use glitchy for him when writing these posts for Clarification's Sake. he does like being referred to you by name, though. the way your voice just... says it. idk, it makes him smile. your voice is nice, in his eyes. your everything is nice in his eyes, really.

♡ he sometimes gets really really worried that one day he'll wake up and you'll start repeating all of your actions and words, like. becoming an npc with no depth. it scares him a lot, because this life is too good for him in his eyes. sometimes he has sort of panics about it and you have to calm him down - which isn't too hard, but it's just easy for him to overthink about negative outcomes and about "oh god what if all of it was fake" types of scenarios

♡ ending this on a lighter note than... that, uhhh! i think he's a little in love enough that whenever you r away and he gets lonely, he might honestly look into the game you're from and act like a mfing in love fangirl ( aka, only looking at the parts you appear in and just intaking everything about you in your source material asap. you look so cute in the artstyle of the game, too... man. he's a little lovestruck. a little fruity, even. this is even funnier if you take the dating sim / visual novel backstory into account bc glitchy Would download the game just to romance you. And you come home and see him doing that and are just like. Flustered and confused and 50 different emotions while glitchy just goes "I can explain, I swear." ).

♡ breaking news red from pokemon red and [ y/n ] from [ insert game ] are real and Are kissing. Maybe even under a tree. do what you will with this info