#me when I crave infamy

[beelzebubgaylord]

Jack after gettinf rescued and finding out that he’s not getting knelt down to nor getting a statue made of him and instead gets mandated to a lobotomy and 10 years in jail before public execution

[acursedvalentine]

in a violent nature. .

[ghoulsbounty]

oh hi love 😻😻 soooooo… “Until Tomorrow” was everything I imagined and more.. ummm.. can i maybe perhaps request a part two??❤️❤️❤️ YOU CAN ADD ANYTHING!! it can be smutty or ANYTHING. you’re an amazing writer i love u.

and thank you :)

Until Tomorrow pt 2

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Bounty!Reader 

Warnings: smut (18+), masturbation, thigh riding, caught in the act, maybe a little dub-con but not really?, Cooper is mean but kind of soft for reader (and hates it), touch starved, control, angst, mentions of paying for sex (not reader), only 5 words of dialogue.

Word Count: 2.3K

A/N: Thank you so much for all of the love on part one, and for requesting a part two! This picks up where the first part finished, and is some really self-indulgent smut with an insight into Cooper's inner workings. I’d love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

👉 Read part one HERE👈

Cooper Howard was no stranger to life's unpredictable twists. Whether they took the form of hidden perils or unexpected windfalls, he had consistently demonstrated a keen instinct and unyielding determination that had garnered him both admiration and infamy in the wasteland. His standing as a ghoul capable of weathering any storm was well-earned. Yet, on this particular evening, he faced a novel obstacle – one that pushed him to his breaking point and muddied the boundaries he had carefully established to stay alive.

His digits lingered on the clasp of his belt, drumming softly upon the cool metal with an air of vexation while he gazed upward at the star-speckled sky. A fleeting moment of poor judgement, the lingering sensation of your leg grazing his unmistakable arousal, had tempted him to succumb to his base desires and satisfy his craving. Yet, Cooper managed to rein in his impulses, commanding his intellect to dominate the surge of desire that pulsed through his cock as he inhaled your essence deeply. 

He was smarter than this; he hadn't survived all these years in this hellish landscape by giving in to his whims at the first touch of a woman. Granted, he'd had numerous lovers, but none as guileless as you, and all at a considerable cost. Each liaison bore a price, sometimes paid in coin, other times in loyalty or secrets, and once even in blood. It was true that he'd been known to indulge in fleeting pleasures when the mood struck him, but he'd also learned to be cautious and weigh the potential consequences of his actions. 

After all, he had a reputation to maintain and a position of power to uphold. Yet, despite his reservations, there was an inexplicable allure about you – the way you clung to him for comfort, even though he was the one responsible for your suffering, the pink welt left from the rope where he had bound your wrists still marred your skin. It was a contradiction that enticed him to disregard his cautious demeanour and investigate the boundaries of your resilience.

With a deep exhale, his fingers returned to their earlier task.

He couldn't tell how long it had been since he started the slow, methodical movements of stroking his cock with his gloved hand, attuned to the faint, sultry sounds that now and then slipped from your mouth while you dozed next to him, to which he responded with a tender increase in pressure. The abrasive texture of the glove's material offered a friction that, with each insistent stroke and release, delivered the peculiar blend of ecstasy and slight pain that he had come to desire. Having endured for countless centuries, it was only through discomfort that he could find any semblance of solace.

As he continued to caress himself, his thoughts fixated on you, the soft curves and delicate features that filled his mind. He wondered if you had ever experienced the touch of a man, felt the ebb and flow of an impending orgasm, and then dared to imagine you coming undone on his own fingers. Despite quickly reprimanding himself for having such forbidden thoughts, he couldn't shake the feeling of the boundary he should not cross and the one he had already transgressed.

Looking down at your hand resting innocently on his abdomen, he couldn't help but imagine how your gentle fingers would feel against the rough bumps of his shaft. The contrast between your flesh, soft and delicate, and his so harsh, stirred a curiosity that he struggled to suppress. He tried to distract himself by focusing on the sensations coursing through his body, but his thoughts always seemed to find their way back to you, and the temptation to cross that line grew stronger with each passing moment.

With a conflicted sigh, he lifted his unoccupied hand to his mouth and nimbly pulled off the glove with his teeth. The leather peeled back, unveiling his exposed hand which he laid over yours on his middle with deliberate care. The feel of you under his touch, so fragile and unawares, sparked a reaction that made him throb against his palm.

His thumb glided along the slit of his cock, gathering the clear droplets of arousal into thick globules that he then spread around his thickness, easing the friction as he stroked himself with a steady rhythm. The stimulation was heightened by the feel of your soft skin brushing against his, a sensation that sent shivers through him as he gently skimmed his fingers over your knuckles. His gaze flitted to you, wondering whether the extended contact might stir you from your sleep, yet you merely exhaled in peaceful satisfaction, your face burrowed now into his chest.

Cooper clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to let out a moan as your thigh made contact with his sensitive balls, sending a jolt of sensation racing through him. His hips lunged forward of their own accord, his body reacting with fervent need as he simultaneously fucked himself with a frantic rhythm and ground himself against the solidity of your thigh. Each movement etched lines of desire and satisfaction across his ghoulish features as his back arched, bracing against the coarse fabric of the bedroll as he lost himself to the limited feel of you.

He knew that his senses were dulling, his awareness of the world around him fading like the last rays of a setting sun. It was a perilous descent into a realm of vulnerability, one he rarely allowed himself to enter, especially when he was saddled with such a valuable cargo. Yet, in the privacy of his thoughts, he succumbed to the dangerous fantasy, squeezing his eyes shut with an intensity that bordered on desperation. In that shadowy sanctuary of his mind, he conjured the image of you, your hands taking the place of his own, your touch igniting a fire that his ravaged body hadn't felt in ages.

It was a reckless indulgence, a stark departure from his usual vigilance. But you had awakened something within him, something primal and undeniable. Beneath the ghoulish exterior, marred by the relentless march of radiation, there remained a man, a man with desires and longings that refused to be quenched by the harsh realities of his existence. You had started this, whether intentionally or not, and now he grappled with the consequences of his own humanity, a humanity that stubbornly clung to life despite the monstrous transformation that sought to smother it.

Succumbing to his desires, he whispered to himself that a bit more would suffice, just a few more strokes and he'd be satisfied. It was then he perceived your subtle movement next to him, a sharp intake of breath as your fingers clenched the fabric of his duster. He gripped them in a bid to stop you from inevitably fleeing, his hips coming to a complete stop as you both lay there. His chest rose and fell with each laboured breath as he cast his gaze downward, fixating on you with an intense stare while you watched, eyes wide, as his hand firmly grasped his erect member mere inches away from you.

Neither of you stirred as you both took in the sight. Beads of precum glistened, oozing from the inflamed slit of his cock, standing out against the darkness of his gloved hand that gripped it firmly. You seemed to consider him for a moment, and he braced himself to overpower you should you attempt to exploit his momentary weakness to flee.

Instead, you gently wriggled your fingers within his grasp, repeating the motion when he did not yield, until he finally let go with a degree of wariness. Your hand glided down his torso, fingertips skimming the edge of his shirt until they met his gloved hand, following the intricate stitching until they grazed the bare skin of his length, tentatively stroking the pronounced furrows. His breath caught as he observed you, his firmness quivering in his hand as you circled your forefinger over the sensitive head, spreading the precum that welled up under your caress. 

Cooper fought against every urge to force your hand around him, to thrust into it until he was seeing stars. The delicate contact of your skin against him caused his mind to malfunction, and had he not been a proud man, he would have begged for more. As if reading his thoughts, your fingers gradually wrapped around him, positioning themselves above his own grip at the base while trying to encircle his sheer size. He gave a tentative thrust of his hips, probing your determination before he began to fuck into his hand and yours at an almost frantic rhythm.

Cooper's stifled moans reverberated through the darkness, his grip on the base of himself becoming rougher to counterbalance your delicate touch with the pain that heightened his pleasure. His cock throbbed under your ministrations, the rush of blood echoing in his ears as he maneuvered his arm around you, pulling you closer to him. He felt your body press firmly against his, your clothed cunt grinding against his leg, and a blissful moan slipped from your mouth. He believed it would be the end of him.

"Fuck," he sighed, his voice a mix of strain and desire as he slowed his thrusts. He adjusted his position, bending his knee so that his thigh pressed firmly between your own, creating an intimate pressure. "Ride it, go on," he urged, his tone both commanding and coaxing, inviting you to take control and find your rhythm against him.

He sensed your initial hesitation, followed by the sudden heat of your arousal as you began to move, bucking and writhing against him as you lay beside him on your bedroll, seeking your pleasure. He anchored himself by planting the boot of his other leg firmly on the ground, continuing to stroke himself with urgency as he fucked up into his hand.

As you relentlessly thrust against him, your hand tightly gripping his swollen shaft, your breaths grew heavy and ragged, accompanied by moans of unbridled pleasure. The harmonious blend of your ecstatic sounds and the wet, slurping noises of his cock sliding through your fingers brought him precariously close to the edge, yet he was determined for you to come first. He found himself curious about the nature of your cries, wondering if they would be pathetic or even endearing when you finally reached your peak. This thought spurred him to delay his own release, focusing instead on the increasing fervour of your hips grinding against him and the surge of warm, sticky wetness seeping through the leg of his pants.

At last, you let out a broken scream, your voice cracking as you were consumed by the intensity of your orgasm. He was right; it was utterly pitiful, but also incredibly alluring. You continued to writhe against him with abandon, your movements sloppy and desperate as he clenched his jaw, powerless to stop himself from chasing his own peak. You witnessed his final, frantic thrusts, his cum erupting from his flushed cockhead in thick ropes, coating your hand and dripping down your fingers as he rode out the last shockwaves of his release.

As the intensity of his climax subsided, you maintained your hold on him, observing the spill of the white fluid as it coated your fingers and trickled down to his thumb. Cooper released a deep, resonant breath, his hand groping blindly behind you until it landed on your bag. He delved into it and extracted a well-worn shirt. Pressing it against the juncture of your hands, he enfolded you in the crook of his arm, diligently wiping your skin clean of his essence, until only a fine, tacky sheen remained, clinging to your flesh like a second skin

He went through the same steps for himself, then tossed the dirty cloth aside. He pulled away from your slack grasp and tucked himself in. Your hand automatically sought warmth between your bodies, resting against your beating heart. You didn't try to distance yourself from him, your leg still coiled around his, keeping his thigh tightly pressed against your core. It was moist and somewhat uncomfortable, but as you both came down from your shared highs, the harsh cold of the night returned to your bones. His hand remained firmly on your back, holding you in place.

Cooper gazed up at the stars, listening to your breathing as it slowed, settling into a calm rhythm that contrasted sharply with the tumultuous events of the night. He marvelled at how easily you could drift into sleep, even after everything that had happened. You must have known the effect you had on him—you had burrowed beneath his tough exterior, the first to ever do so, the first to fracture his ironclad resolve.

Now, he was left with a burning question: what was he supposed to do next? Indulging in you had been a moment of weakness, a slip he couldn't afford to repeat. You weren't meant for him, nor did you belong to him, and he didn't truly desire you—not entirely. It was merely a fraction of him that did, that stubborn, nagging part he constantly tried to suppress because it had no place in the perilous wasteland. Here, vulnerability was a liability, and Cooper Howard prided himself on being anything but weak. Yet with you, he seemed to falter.

As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, he resolved to cast you aside, bind you once more, and ensure the knot was tighter, harsher this time, just for good measure. You couldn't be allowed to think you had outsmarted him, nor could he permit you to believe he would show you any leniency from now on. There was a bounty to be claimed, but until that moment arrived, he contemplated as he drew you nearer to him, perhaps this wouldn't be so detrimental to his health.

[randomalistic]

Anyways here’s a rambling infodump thing about all the similarities between Spamton and Turbo and then some. (you should bully me for this)

My fixation on both of them… they feed into eachother.

3 foot tall FREAK !!!!!

THE INSANE SMILER…

Glitchy and pixelated

Full of envy, pent up hatred, DESPERATELY CRAVES REVENGE.

Kinda ugly </3

Or at least. Unconventional!

Used to drive a car when he was popular

I know there’s a difference between being a car spokesman and being a racer but it’s close enough <3 Spamton would not know how to drive a cungadero they just told him to pose in there and smile. Ok Headcanon OVER !!!!

Had it all in the 80s/90s before losing the spotlight

Turbo did his bullshit in 1987 (actual road blasters release year) and Spamton did his bullshit in 1997

Only really known as an unspeakable rumor and lives in infamy

It’s more like everyone “moved on” from Spamton and forgot about him (or at least tried to forget about him…) where with Turbo what he did was so bad that he’s only known for that ONE thing

Goes in hiding for decades

Spamton has his alleyway dumpster, and maybe other areas of cyber city with low traffic. Turbo’s hiding was implied to have been in the depths of game central station until Sugar Rush was plugged in. (Which I think was asked about in an AMA) Both are like. ~30 YEARS of hiding 💀

Would go any length for the same attention again

The interesting thing about this is Turbo DOES win. He does get that attention back by disguising as King Candy and being able to race again, and he keeps it for however long Sugar Rush was around for before the events of the movie. Spamton never gets it back…

But at least Spamton doesn’t get INCINERATED so I’d say he’s better off, even if the best outcome is him becoming an item

Dependent on some kid for his plan to work

Although Spamton’s relationship with Kris (dependent on them helping him) is pretty different than King Candy’s relationship with Vanellope (dependent on her not interfering) I still think it’s funny that they both have beef with children

Later attempted murder of said kid

Quality villains out here not even hesitating to kill kids to get what they want !!!

Imitated/fabricated identity

Spamton imitates Swatch, Turbo fabricates (?) King Candy

Stupid catchphrase

NOW’S YOUR CHANCE TO BE [TurboTastic!]

BOSS BATTLE FORM IS FUCKKKKED

They essentially have the same monologue of “THANKS TO YOU I'M MORE POWERFUL THAN EVER!! But it's not enough... so I'm going to kill you anyways"

I think King Candybug’s Face resembles SNEO in a weird way. Mostly just the big eyes and weird nose and THE SMILERRRRR. They have very similar vibes! I will stop myself now!

Virus/malware adiacent

Turbo literally claims he’s a virus by the end of the movie and Spamton is Spamton

Critically Acclaimed Tumblr Man (and hated)

From my RESEARCH. (Aka. Looking up art of him) Apparently a lot of people on tumblr liked Turbo in 2013. And those people have since become spamton people (perhaps ……) I guess that is me now too. Really unfortunate

Lore ties into a real life video game (Petz & Road Blasters)

In the sweepstakes spamton was kinda confirmed to come from a Petz game. I also didn’t know road blasters was Real until I started looking into it . (TurboTime is fake tho) But there’s a very specific similarity for you. Fucked up characters blurring the lines into real life my beloved

Rivalry/broken friendship with Those similar looking fellas (I’m running out of brain power here)

Spamton had the Addisons, which were like his friends? Fellow advertisers. Looked a bit like him, just taller with different colors. Spamton left them after becoming a big shot because he thought he didn’t need them anymore…

Turbo had the “turbo twins” (the 2 other blue racers in his game) idk if that’s their official name cuz they kinda barely exist in canon.. I think it’s popular fanon that Turbo is shorter than both of them, but that’s actually not true. But I’m still gonna count it. Anyways he KILLED them when he got turbotime unplugged. THEYRE DEAD.

Extreme temperature related death (is this a stretch)

Less of a similarity and more of an interesting contrast

Turbo burns to death when he’s INCINERATED in diet cola mountain. I could ramble about this a lot but. That’s for my second account

And Spamton NEO (in snowgrave at least) is FROZEN SOLID by noelle. He shouldn’t have asked for that ice cream man

Anyways I get similar vibes from those guys..

I hope they explode.

Also thinking more about this is making me realize how similar in concept deltarune and Wreck it Ralph are. As in, those apps and computer programs in the computer lab ? Yeah they’re alive and theres a whole ass cyber city and mansion and theres a ton of little guys living in there! (And same goes for the card kingdom in chapter 1)

Like if there was a dark world created in an arcade, it would probably look something like the WIR world. In a way, lightners would be the “players” because everything the game characters (darkners) do is to serve the players. I’m just saying !!!! These pieces of media are both Really Good!!!

[kittyball23]

True Crime (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: Bruce hears something unexpected on the True Crime podcast he listens to

__________________________________________

Beach days were always the best.

It gave his wife Brandy the ample time she needed for a little R n R. It gave their 13 kids the fun they craved, hitting the waves and splashing about in the warm Vacay Island waters. And it gave Bruce the opportunity to kick back, tan, and listen in on the next episode of his True Crime podcast.

His kids were well-behaved for the most part (save for Bruce Jr. and his biting problem, and perhaps Freddy with his desire to stuff his body into whatever little cramped spaces there were). But, with a quick reminder to mind their manners and beware of any rough waves, he knew that they were well off.

As he settled down on the towel, he could hear the faint sounds of his children laughing and splashing, their mother floating on a surfboard nearby and watching over them. Bruce then removed his vest, rubbed tanning oil on his body, donned sunglasses, popped on his earbuds and began to play the podcast. The narrator's mysterious voice began to speak, introducing the story.

“In tonight's episode of True Crime, discover a true story about betrayal, deception, and greed, and the defeat of two nefarious villains who were finally dethroned from their treacherously influential reign…”

Bruce was already intrigued. Ooo, this is gonna be a GOOD one. He could tell. He tucked his arms behind his head and got comfortable.

“When one is a troll, there is no better way to live your life to the fullest than with hugging, dancing, and of course, singing. But for one troll, these harmless activities become the paramount of his nightmare for the next two months.”

Bruce scrunched his nose, skeptical. Singing and dancing that led to, as the narrator described, a ‘nightmare’ situation? He had to hear the rest of this.

“You never expect this sort of thing to happen to you, you know?” a new voice said, which Bruce could presume was the victim of the unfortunate scenario. “I sure didn't. They seemed like a nice pair of siblings. I never suspected anything malicious. They saw my performance, enjoyed it, and asked for some tips to boost their own careers. We had some drinks and… and the next thing I remember is waking up in a diamond bottle.”

Yikes, Bruce thought, pitying the victim. He sounded like a nice guy, too, with the calm, serene tone his voice had. Trapped in such a cramped space for so long sounded awful.

“And you won't believe who those said siblings were,” the narrator continued. He was very right in that, too. Because as soon as the podcast began to play a sample of the hit single ‘Watch Me Work,’ Bruce’s jaw practically dropped on the floor.

No way…

“Yes way. You heard correctly. Criminals in this case are none other than superstar sensations Velvet and Veneer, from the bedazzling city of Mount Rageous. But following them now, is a not-so-bedazzling record. (And we don't mean the musical kind.)”

A new female voice began to list off charges. “Troll-napping, Troll torture, not to mention tax evasion. You won't believe how many yachts, bling, and exotic PETS they illegally bought!”

Even if Bruce could believe it, he was still having a hard time wrapping his mind around the initial news. Velvet and Veneer? The well-known household names that his kids - and himself for that matter - were fans of? Well, not anymore! Hearing such things that they did made him sick. Man… it’s gonna be hard separating the art from the artist.

“And today, just two months after the duo was turned in by their assistant, Crimp, they find that their names live on forever not in fame, but in INfamy,” the narrator said.

“Oh, I feel awful,” the distinct voice of Veneer said next. “I wanted nothing more than to be famous, and… Vel made me believe that it didn’t matter HOW we did it, as long as we DID it. Even… even if it meant KILLING a troll. It was real rough - I mean, sucking up his talent was easy enough, but we were literally sucking the LIFE out of him. His skin was turning pale - and, like, not in a stunning Victorian way, either - and that magenta hair of his was turning whiter and whiter by the minute…”

Magenta? Bruce wondered. He’d known a troll once with magenta hair. His own younger brother. Could it be…? No, it couldn’t… I mean, there’s PLENTY of Trolls that have magenta hair, don’t they?

“I didn’t say anything to Velvet though because, truly, I was too afraid to stand up to her. She’s my sister! My biggest inspiration… I didn’t wanna discourage her. But now, I see that what we did was wrong. Very, VERY wrong.”

Good, Bruce thought.

“But despite the change of heart, this Mount Rageon still has to serve at least another six months in juvenile imprisonment, alongside his sister,” the narrator said. “It comes as much relief to the now-free victim.”

“Jail can’t be fun,” the same serene voice from before admitted, “but I’m glad they’re serving their time. Everyone makes mistakes, and just like it’s important to learn from them, it’s also important to pay the repercussions for your actions.”

Well said, Bruce had to admit. He also had to admit something else.

That sounds a LOT like something Floyd would say…

And if his suspicions were not enough…

“While recovery has been successful for the troll and he has plans to return to singing, he still feels as though something is missing from his life…” the narrator continued.

“I was solo-ing around for quite a bit of time before I ran into Velvet and Veneer,” the Troll said. “But, really… I would LOVE if I could perform in the band I was in years ago… but, we kind of had a fight, and ever since that fight, we haven’t seen each other. If we could reunite - oh - that’d be a dream come true. It’s been too long.”

Bruce swallowed. Twenty years is a long time…

The next part was the real kicker, though.

“Until that day, 36-year-old Floyd still holds onto the hope that he will see his bandmembers - also known as the brothers who made up the band BroZone - someday,” the narrator said.

“John Dory, Clay, Branch, Spruce… if ANY of you are listening, I want you to know that I miss you. And I want us to be a family again…” the Troll - FLOYD - said.

Bruce’s thumb went to hit the pause button. He had to stop. This was a lot to process, all at once. He was flabbergasted. Bamboozled. Shocked. He broke down everything he had heard piece by piece, trying to make sense of it.

Velvet and Veneer were baddies.

They had taken Floyd.

His brother Floyd.

They’d used his talent.

They’d almost killed him.

He would’ve never had the option of seeing his brother again.

But now, he did.

“Daddy! Daddy!” one of his kids - Windy - was suddenly calling to him. “Bruce Jr. threw sand in my eye!”

“I said I was sorry!” Bruce Jr. protested.

“Only after Mom told you to!” LaBreezy pointed out.

“Did not!” Bruce Jr. countered.

“Did too!” Cove jumped into his sister’s defense.

“Well, Daddy, aren’t you gonna punish him??” Windy demanded to know. The way he saw it, it wouldn’t be fair to let him slide!

But the way Bruce saw it… well, he wasn’t seeing anything. His brain was still overloaded with what he’d learned.

Brandy had followed the kids, curiously noting her husband’s surprised expression. “Honey?” she questioned. “Are you all right?”

Bruce looked at her resolutely.

“I… I have to find my brother…”

[the-night-that-feeds-if]

You feel a chill down your spine, the hairs at the back of your neck prickle. You don't dare look behind you... The shadow smiles.

The Night That Feeds is a dark fantasy, interactive story.  It will have heavy themes of familial abuse, sexually suggestive themes (perhaps more explicit stuff too, eventually), and other dark themes. A comprehensive content warning will be made available as the story develops.

"This is a story of love, loss, and of trying to find a home".

*** Please keep your mental health in mind when playing games with dark themes. This game won't be as dark as some others, but I want everyone to be safe and healthy when consuming dark content.

Demo currently sitting at 21k words.

✧ Features/Will feature ✧

A customizable protagonist, name, gender, appearance. 

Multiple romance options (barely implemented at this time).

Demons!  Not in the way you may think.

An interesting fantasy land that you get to explore.

!!BARELY IMPLEMENTED--MOST CHARACTERS NOT MET!!

・❥・ Romance Options ・❥・

✧.*

Captain E. Ward: Fame, fortune, infamy... All these and more follow Captain Ward. Their job is a demanding one, an important one, a dangerous one. They seem to be a commanding, playful person, but how deep do their scars run?

Age: 30

["Isn't it beautiful?" They say as they stare out into the void. Nebulous clouds drift behind, trailing the ship. "So Void-damned beautiful, and so fucked up." They look you in the eyes, and lick the edge of their bottom lip. "You sure you want this, with me?"]

They are a lonely person, they crave, and despise attention. They're afraid of intimacy, of love. What kind of life is a life in the Void? Who would willingly share that with them?

TW: Attempted murder (on them), clinginess.

✧.*

Maddock: A surly mercenary, he watches out for you, all due to a 'favor' of a nature you can't discern. The way he looks at you is reminiscent of a deep longing.

Age: Late 30's, early 40's 

["I never thought that I'd be one ta' have somethin' like this at my age. I let my dreams go in my youth." He pats the cushion next to him. "You don' expect things ta' turn out, I've been a merc for so long, felt like all I knew how ta' do."]

He's a gruff man, doesn't got a heart of gold, but if you end up falling for each other, there isn't anything that would come between you.

TW: Possessive, sexual.

✧.*

The Hunger: It's been watching you for a long time... 

Age: ???

["Oh, if it isn't my little bird, what is it? Is your wing broken? You don't seem eager to fly away this time..." It slinks closer, grinning wide. ]

An entity, not... malevolent, at least not to you.  However, it holds a sick fascination for you. 

TW: Yandereish. Stalker. Obsession. 

✧.*

Fellis: A woman who seems to be around your age, she's an eager adventurer, she took a liking to you immediately, and seems keen to stoke the flames hotter. 

Age: 22, 23

["Oh, lovey. There you are." She takes your hand in hers, placing a gentle kiss along your knuckle. "I've brought something for you."]

She thinks you're the most beautiful person she's seen. She may even take up poetry to describe her budding love for you.

NO TW. MEGA FLUFF ALERT.

✧.*

Xep: A strange person, wearing bright crimson robes, with gorgeous star decaling in gold. They wear copious amounts of jewelry, and enjoy the finer things. They were immediately drawn to you, they were forced to this back water of a town, they never expected anyone like you to cross their path.

Age: 27

["I want to hold you, please stay?" Their mouth creeps upwards, the wine has given them a positively radiant complexion, the heat blatant on their cheeks.]

They're a sad soul, after experiencing a heart break that left them devastated, they never expected to find love again.

SLIGHT TW: Mentions of suicide, heart break, mentions of being cheated on.

Credit to:  nyehilism for the sugarcube template, you've made things easier on me as an aspiring IF writer, thank you.

[edotvie]

BG3 Act 3 spoilers Content: Intimacy, pushing boundaries

They were the first ones back in their rooms at Elfsong Tavern. It had been another long day in the city, hunting down murder victims for their own safety and battling shapechangers on the streets. And while Astarion and Tav indeed were the first ones back in the rooms, they had also been the last ones out. While the suddenly pouring rain had helped to cleanse blood and dirt from their skin, they were also the only ones soaked down to the bone.

"Gods. I can't believe everyone else was not only out of the splash zone, but avoided the rain, too," moaned Tav, already undoing the wet, tangled knots that held her hair together.

"Perhaps a detour to the docks was a terrible idea after all," reasoned Astarion while running hands through his own curls, trying to stop the soppy mess they were attempting to turn into.

"That's on me for caving to you. Again. I craved a bath the moment we got covered in blood in the first place," she mused in return, "At least you're a master of hidnsight." Her tone was light and teasing.

"Alright! We're here now, aren't we? The maid will run us a bath and you can wrap yourself in a fluffy, warm towel for the rest of the night," he hurried to answer, "Now, if you don't mind, I'll go peel off these wet clothes."

There was something unexpected in Astarion's statement that had left Tav momentarily staring at him.

"Did you say 'us?' As in, run 'us' a bath," she repeated, trying to make sense of it.

The High Elf stopped and turned to face his lover. His lips were parted when he did, but he closed and reopened them once before he actually spoke.

"I may have," he managed, "If that's what you want, Darling."

"I do. But do you think it will be too much?" she admitted, eyes wide and open with caution. Astarion flashed her a smile.

"Only one way to find out, isn't there?"

While Astarion withdrew to hang up his wet clothes, Tav was left alone with her thoughts. The maid came in to prepare the tub, and while Tav waited, she considered what was to happen.

Some time ago, Astarion had decided he didn't want to be intimate, indefinitely. At least, not in the only way he knew how. They stopped having sex since, their relationship redefined with nightly cuddling and soft kisses instead. Though there had been touching, it really hadn't been sexual, and they'd even avoided nudity around one another just incase.

A bath together could be innocent, if one exercised caution. And while Tav craved for the experience, she couldn't help but wonder if it was for the right reasons. After all, the tension between them had built in the time they hadn't fallen victim to their carnal desires. If they got involved now, would all the progress with Astarion's recovery be lost?

Before she could come to a conclusion, the bath had already been prepared. There she was, taking off the damp shirt below her armor, as Astarion strode in to the sight of her.

"I seem to have entered at the right time to catch a wonderful show," he purred, startling Tav since she had a blinding shirt over her head. He chuckled and stepped closer, gentle hands grasping the hem of the garment to help remove it.

She watched him, as breathless as she was topless. Astarion tossed her shirt aside and caressed her jawline with a brush of his fingers.

"I'll wait for you in the tub," he murmured, parting from her slowly. Tav watched him undo the towel around his otherwise bare form. She did wonder if she should be staring, but it felt like she was the one now being given a show. There was no glance in her direction until Astarion had sunken into the tub. Leaning on its edge, he smiled at her with intentionally half lidded eyes.

"Well?"

Tav turned to free herself from her pants, an awkward slide since they, too, were still damp. She tossed them beside her discarded shirt and ran a hand through her tangled hair, then approached the tub on its way to building infamy.

She climbed in beside Astarion, sinking into the warm water with a delighted sigh. Immediately a redness formed over her skin from the pleasant heat.

"This is exactly what I needed," she practically moaned, leaning her skull against the edge in a restful position. The water shifted and a touch was placed on her hip, causing Tav to lift her head suddenly.

"I almost forgot how beautiful you are," said Astarion, his eyes dark in the gentle candlelight. He hovered close to her, their bodies not quite touching, and brushed his lips against hers. It wasn't hungry, exactly. In fact it almost felt unsure, like he didn't know whether to add pressure or pull away. Tav was completely still beneath him, her heart beating faster by the moment.

"Would you like me to wash your back?" she spoke after a while, barely above a whisper. With all the uncertainty in the air, she felt it was best not to take chances. That meant keeping things more or less strictly 'business'.

"Yes," he answered after one moment more, eyes fixed on Tav's lips, "I'd like that."

He sat up and turned around, reaching for the soap and brush she'd have to use for scrubbing. Tav accepted and held both items with one hand while admiring the muscles of Astarion's back, the fingers of her other one reaching out to trace the lines of his scars.

At first she felt him tense, though not a word was said. Her touch was gentle and soothing, running over the raised marks and smooth skin alike. Though it felt as if he may relax into it with time, it also felt like another thing she needed permission for. So instead she stilled her hand, leaning in to peck him on the clear skin just above where the symbols ended.

Tav began running the bar of soap over the marble-white skin of her lover's back. He felt warmer to the touch than usual, the heat of the water raising his natural body temperature. The soap had a faint smell of thyme to it, a yellowish mixture left behind as it swiped over wet skin.

Astarion folded his arms over the edge of the tub and rested his head on top. His lower back was closer to the surface now, easier for Tav to reach as her ministrations slid downward. She ran the soap bar in circular motions, and after a moment, she heard a sigh.

"Enjoying yourself?" she asked with a smile in her voice, talking quietly as if to avoid disturbing the atmosphere. Astarion shifted under her touch, another noise of contentment his answer. He was being so adorable Tav could have scooped him up and eaten him.

She reached out to put away the bar of soap in favor of scrubbing him. This caused him to bristle at first until she lightened her touch. A fussy little thing, sure, but he was hers all the same. After finishing his back, she even made sure to lean in and place appreciative little kisses on his pointed ear.

"All done," she hummed to him.

Tav was forced to sit back when Astarion sat up properly. He turned to her and cupped the side of her neck, pulling her in close enough that her breaths touched his lips. The look on his face was stunning, almost sleepy with the momentary ease the bathing had weaved into him. Tav was at a loss for words, her lips parted uselessly.

"Your turn, Dove," he murmured at her, and her jaw clicked shut. She was grateful for the warmth of the tub since it masked the blush she would've sported either way. Astarion skillfully wrestled the brush from her hand before she had time to spare a thought to it, his hands softly guiding her to turn around. They met no resistance.

The slippery feeling of soap met her back and Tav leaned forward with a pleased noise. She used the edge of the tub as leverage much like Astarion had, her back an open playground for his care. It was surprisingly vulnerable, leaving herself blindly in his hands.

It didn't take long before she felt the distinct touch of his lips on her skin. It started from her shoulder and traveled down, occasional little pecks that were followed by soap being lathered over that spot. She huffed a happy little laugh at the affections, nuzzling her face into the crook of her arm.

The brush came afterward, harsh in comparison to the easy gliding of the soap. She made no complaint on her end, allowing Astarion to scrub her clean of the day's stresses with as much dedication as he liked. Of course he had to finish eventually, and the conclusion was highlighted by the sound of a wooden 'clack' as he placed the brush down on the side table.

Tav sat up, turning halfway to lay her lips against Astarion's. It was an efficient thanks, soft and quiet, perfect for the moment. And then she felt a tug on her hair, only slightly painful, but unexpected. It elicited a small grunt and she leaned back from her partner.

"I'm sorry," said Astarion hastily, withdrawing his hand from her hair, "I didn't realize how tangled it was. My fingers got caught."

"It didn't hurt, but, well. Admittedly, I'm a little embarrassed now," Tav laughed, averting her eyes. She felt his hand on her cheek and followed its guidance to meet his eyes.

"I have something that will help. Wait here."

The request was punctuated by a kiss on her forehead before Astarion was getting out of the tub. He dabbed himself dry half-heartedly before heading off into the direction of the beds, leaving Tav to wait on her own. She used the time to awkwardly try and undo some of those tangles with her fingers, but with her hair being wet, all they wanted to do in response was break.

A couple minutes later Astarion was already back, rounding the tub with a glass bottle in his hand. It was filled over halfway with something Tav didn't immediately recognize.

"Soak that lovely scalp first," he encouraged. She did as asked, briefly sinking her head in the water to dampen every remaining strand of hair. She was then guided to the edge of the tub, and heard the distinct sound of a bottle opening. The pleasant scent of vanilla filled the air, something Astarion may have well introduced to the concoction himself.

The cool feeling of an oily substance hit her scalp. She flinched at the initial touch, but was quickly soothed by Astarion running his fingers across her hair. There were pleasant shivers from how he gathered it into his hands and rubbed the "oil" over each strand. He had to pour more into his hand a few times, considering how long and thick Tav's hair was.

"Not that I don't enjoy how you wear your tresses, but have you ever considered cutting some of this off?" he asked in an exasperated manner while still working his magic. Tav chuckled and stole a slippery lock to twirl between her fingers.

"Every now and then, but I enjoy braiding it," she answered easily with a one-shouldered shrug, "I can pay you back for the soap."

"Conditioner, love. You needn't. I'll get you your own batch entirely so I won't run out in one wash."

Tav splashed a bit of water his way over the edge of the tub. Astarion flinched and glanced down at the damage done.

"Yes, when at a loss for an actual response, splash water at people like a child playing in the river. Of course," he chastised, though he'd have to get back in the tub soon anyway.

"It hasn't failed me yet," Tav stated with a grin on her face. His features quickly softened at the expression, hands releasing the long hair and letting it sink into the water. He hoisted himself over the edge, forcing Tav to move back quickly to avoid getting toppled by him.

"Hey!" she chuckled, almost indignant in her expression. Astarion smirked back at her.

"I thought you enjoyed having me on top of you, Sweet," he said playfully.

"You're impossible," she answered with poorly hidden joy in her voice.

They fell into a comfortable quiet shortly after. Both focused on lathering soap on their bodies and cleaning the parts of themselves there was no need for the other to help with. Tav washed the mysterious, good-smelling substance from her hair and marveled at the smooth feeling it left behind.

They climbed out of the tub one at a time, gathering their respective towels to dab and scrub themselves dry with. After finishing with his hair, Astarion wrapped the towel back around his waist, leaving the now messy locks to flop against his forehead.

Tav found herself staring once she'd caught sight of it. His hair, unstyled and damp, was cute in a different way to the usual manner it was done. Astarion always oiled and combed it back, likely thinking the curls too unruly otherwise. He hadn't seen them ever since turning into a Vampire spawn, of course, and Tav wondered if the habit had simply stuck through all those decades.

Their eyes met and she looked away to mask her staring. It was doubtful Astarion was fooled by such an amateur move. Barely a moment later he was crossing the distance to her, his hand slinking past her ear and to the wet hairs resting against her temple.

"I expect you're satisfied," he purred, leaning closer to her ear as he did, "Though I'm not certain I share in that feeling."

A pointed kiss where her ear and jawline met was the last word he gave before withdrawing toward the beds. Tav still felt her heart pounding in her chest, that devious little backstabber. The thoughts of Astarion lingered late into the night and bled into the following days. Sure, it didn't end up being too much for him, but poor Tav hadn't accounted for her own sanity in the slightest.

Still, even within the most outrageous of fantasies, a warmth lingered with every thought. It was a kind of closeness Astarion didn't know he could have until now. It was the kind they'd both craved for so long, and now it was theirs.

Nothing could take away those moments. And with every heartbeat drawing them closer to the end, they found more of themselves in one another.

[finethingswellworn]

Stede's arc is hitting me so hard.

Because of course. Of fucking course this would happen. It was almost inevitable and the inevitability is crushing me.



Stede has spent his whole life being mocked for being soft or being written off completely. Never, not once, before he found his crew and Ed, did he receive love, care, or validation from anyone.

We see in Stede's perfect fantasy dream at the beginning of the season what he thinks he needs to do to win Ed's heart, to be a "man." That being your typical macho dudebro shit. Vanquishing Izzy, fighting, impressing Ed with his newfound pirate skills.

Then, he actually manages to get Ed back and he thinks the way to keep him is to be someone he isn't, really, because he still, after all this time, doesn't realize that Ed wants him as he is. Soft, kind, gentle.

As Ed says, Stede appeared to Ed as a sparkly fucking merperson and it was that Stede who saved Ed's life. Not as some great champion but as a weird, ethereal creature of the fucking deep. If Ed wanted someone to fight for him, he could have had his choice years and years and years ago.

But father Bonnet's words are still ringing in Stede's ears, even now. "Soft-handed, lily-livered little rich boy." So when Ed and his crew are threatened, Stede finally has the chance to do something about it. He kills Ned.

Just like when he got rid of Nigel, he's rewarded for it. Except, this time, it's not only by his crew. It's by the whole pirate community. A community that had once laughed at him, thrown drinks on him, humiliated him in every possible way. A community that he'd wanted so desperately to impress for so long.

It might be simple to say that Stede did all this just to impress Ed, and that's certainly a factor in it, but it goes a waaaaay deeper than that. There's a huge part of Stede that wants this, wants to be feared and respected, admired and valued in the way that Blackbeard used to be. He's said it from the first: "If I could only be... like Blackbeard... I'd give all of this away." It's a not-so-secret craving of his, the craving of a man who has been systematically disrespected and ignored his entire life.

"NOTICE ME!"

"SEE ME!"

"Can't YOU TELL I'M DIFFERENT NOW, (even if I've turned my back on everything I am, wrecked all my previous relationships to chase after this new, shiny thing,) SO FINALLY YOU'LL WANT ME, YOU'LL LET ME INTO YOUR CIRCLE."

And they do, for a time. The other pirates actually fucking do.

Oh, the thrill. Oh, the exhilaration. The wave of euphoria of that... it's like a drug. It sweeps everything else aside, everyone else who might love you enough to tell you this isn't who you are or what you should be doing. It whispers sweet, sweet nothings in your ear. Makes you act like a total jackass and everybody's loving it, loving you.

You start thinking: "I can do this. I can really do this. This is the new me. I don't have to be my lame old self who people have always looked down on in disgust or pity or both anymore. What a relief! I can be this cool guy who everyone likes."

Stede doesn't understand that he's doing the exact same thing Ed did with Calico Jack. No, the thrill is too overwhelming for that. He doesn't understand that, if Ed had bothered to stick around longer to talk, he probably would have said: "I don't like who you are around these guys."

It's not that Ed doesn't want Stede to be successful, it's that he doesn't want it like this. He doesn't want to be a pirate at all. He wants to do something simple like run an inn. But Stede's still too high on that recently acquired infamy and validation to notice Ed's discomfort with the situation. Or his own.

Until, all at once, he's in way over his head. He realizes, "Oh shit, I can't do this." He's beaten and battered, rendered pathetic yet again, and the only people who still care for him are the people he started out with. His crew, begging him to plead mercy. Because everyone else has died or left him as soon as he wasn't the toughest one in the room.

And here we leave him, having made a laundry list of mistakes, with everything up in flames and Ed gone. A new low. A hard lesson. But a necessary one.

This fucking show!

[sordidspectre]

What's In A Legacy

To be remembered is a goal plenty have

Some crave fame and fortune to be cemented in history

Recalled and discussed and quoted to no end, names becoming commonplace and honorable

Some choose infamy to secure their place in the mind of the world

To strike fear or discomfort or to be remembered for "revenge" or whatever they use to justify deeds deemed wicked

Some are okay with being remembered by family or friends

To simply have some sort of memory to those dear to them for as long as that memory will live

Some of us think we are better off forgotten

Scarred by cruelty at the hands of those who had no right to make us believe such a thing

The subject of a legacy, a memory, is often something that creeps into my mind when I least desire it

But I've been thinking about this for a little bit now, and my chest feels muddled and heavy with emotion

I sometimes tell myself I'd be better off forgotten, not memorable in the slightest to anyone—nobody worth knowing or considering

But I don't think that's true

I know why I tell myself that—I'm echoing the words of others who tried to destroy something they believed didn't belong

But I know I am worthy of remembrance, of shed tears after a departure I hope is far, far away

I don't know what I'd like to be remembered for, sometimes I want my writing to be remembered and other times my skill with technology

Sometimes I want to be remembered for a wonderful sense of humor, or for being a deeply kind soul

Ultimately though, I would just like to be remembered to some degree by someone close to me

I think everyone deserves to be remembered

Yes, everyone

Everyone deserves a legacy, even if that legacy is to teach others how to be better

But I think a legacy left behind, a memory held in someone's thoughts,

Is an incredibly powerful thing

Perhaps the most powerful thing you could have

And I hope that I'm remembered fondly after I'm gone, even if it's just by one

And I hope you're remembered fondly by someone

And I hope you know that means you're loved

So let's make a deal

If I cry for you, will you cry for me?

Even after we're gone?

[lr31o]

i'm gonna sound like such a hater but i was watching the craving (single version)'s music video, where it's basically about tyler's feelings towards scaled and icy's reception.

and i do feel for him, you spend so much of your time and you give so much of yourself to make art only for it to be discarded and hated. but there's a more cynical part of me that's like... it's not my fault the album was bad though lol stop trying to guilt trip me

i genuinely believe Scaled and Icy was twenty one pilots' darkest moment. i don't just mean because of how the album was received critically, or the content of the songs themselves, but i think people forget that a huge part of the vitriol towards SAI was because it was fresh off the heels off of Tyler's platforms tweet incident.

it was kind of a big deal. people were getting their tattoos covered/removed and shit. tyler couldn't even apologize initially and doubled down on it

and so, charged with this momentum of infamy + the album genuinely just being lackluster compared to their other works, scaled and icy was devoured by the crowd. and honestly i feel like the backlash they received for it was lowkey deserved. it was just karma for weird behavior

anyway. my point is that i don't feel bad about thinking scaled and icy isn't up to snuff. it sucks. it's okay if you like it. it's okay if you don't. at the end of the day, the album was a financial success and they're still millionaires. from an artist's point of view, i know it hurts when people shit on your art. but i don't feel bad for thinking it's bad.

i'm glad we have Clancy to usher in a new era of songs. he can mark a new point in time to start fresh. tyler has long since apologized, and honestly? it's just a fantastic reminder that everyone you look up to has the capacity to fuck up. everyone fucks up. it's what makes us human

[thebisexualmess-19]

Villain x Henchmen (My OC’S btw)

In the poorly illuminated room, Maxwell, a feared villain of infamy, paces back and forth, plotting his next crime, while Brooklyn, his loyal tech-savvy sidekick, whose technological skills he exploits, works on the latest piece of tech to satisfy his needs

"Tell me, my faithful Brooklyn, don't you think it's time to take things to a higher level?" Maxwell grumbles, placing a hand on her shoulder "You know that no matter what I do, you would come out unscathed… right?"

“Is this a worry question, durability question or and Stamina question?” She asked smirking and not looking up from her gadget at the moment.

She was working on a watch shaped gadget for him like her gloves so he could access their online records as well as the internet at anytime he wanted.

Instead of normally having her hair down she’d pulled it up, leaving a few strand out to curl since Maxwell always complained whenever she didn’t have it down for him to play with it.

Maxwell smirks at your comment and steps closer to admire your latest gadget "Durability, my Brooklyn. You know I am a bit of a brute, so I need it to be resilient to any harm."

He places a hand on her other shoulder and nuzzles her neck softly, his fingers gently caressing her skin. Brooklyns hair was still tied up, but some strands escaped from their bindings and tumbled down to frame her face

She chuckles, leaning into him, speaking softer now that he was a lot closer.

“I can’t tell if that was a clever sex joke or if you’re genuinely just oblivious to how dirty that sounds.” She teased.

He laughs softly and brings her closer, his lips grazing her neck seductively "Both."

"And you know exactly what you are doing. Your hair, the way you are dressed tonight, your flirtatious words…" He nuzzles her neck again and trails a hand through the strands falling over her shoulder. "Your every move is carefully thought out, my Brooklyn."

“Is it?” She teased further, giving him a smug look. Screw behaving, she liked acting like a brat around him. It was funny seeing him either get fussy with it or put her in her place.

the clothing was actually by complete accident, she was doing her laundry and her tank top was the only option so she just grabbed a sweater and put it over, it exposed her shoulders a bit and freckles on them but she liked the way she looked and the jeans honestly just looked good.

She turned away from him, slipping out of his grip and continued working with a knowing smile.

Maxwell laughed, amused by her bratty antics. He walks around her as she continued working, his gaze fixated on her curves

He leans down to whisper in her ear, his lips brushing against it "You know you like being punished. You like when I get rough and demanding." Maxwell caresses her back.

“So? You always make it fun.” She smirked, Turing to face him and leaning against the table on her palms.

He grins and puts a hand under Brooklyns chin, bringing her head back so she’s facing him "Oh, that's true. You like it when I lose control, when I pin you down… How your face flushes at the very thought of it. You like how your body responds then."

Maxwell kisses her once, quickly, but then bites her lip softly "You like me taking what I want, whenever I want."

“Maybe.” She shrugged, her voice fanning innocence as she wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders, smiling softly.

Maxwell laughs and raises an eyebrow "Oh come now, my Brooklyn. You can't make me believe that you don't secretly crave my touch. My hands running down your body… My lips touching every inch of you… How your legs shake as I push you to the edge."

She smiled, remembering all the times they’d gotten side tracked and his hero friend would call and interrupt them. The way he’d huff having to pull away from where ever he was paying attention to her. The times he’s have everyone leave them alone and he’s just take her on one of the meeting tables because he was overly frustrated, and the rare times he let her top him.

“Maybe I’m humoring you.” She teased, trying to get sidetracked and a reaction as always.

Maxwell's eyes narrow and he puts on a look of mock disappointment "And do you think I, your master, would fall for that?" Maxwell pulls her close and kisses her passionately, she did the same, as if trying to prove that her words are indeed a confession "Do not underestimate me, Brooklyn, my girl, for I know you want me."

He bites your neck softly, and wraps his arms around you, lifting her up and placing her in his lap "You've been bad."

“So?~”

"So you need to be punished." Maxwell grins and caresses your cheek, his thumb running lightly across your lips. His eyes linger on your mouth, as if he was about to kiss you again "I think I have just the right punishment in mind."

HA YALL THOUGHT!

[journey-thru-six-ears]

---X--- Papillon/Killian ---X---

[posted on my main, but I'll share him here, as well. Keep Reading below to see [some of] his profile/info.]

x0xX-[..S.E.M.I.T.A-🌙-L.U.N.A.E..]-Xx0x

---X---

"Most carry unwavering fear and endless doubt in feeling. Others forge it into the heavy crown adorned and cherished with steely brow, that they bear with pride, unmoved despite the infamy stamped upon their tarnished souls. I carry mine with boastful pride, as any demon should. I earned my crown through my own means: by suffering, with wisdom and through rebirth. Those who experienced the same, they understand, follow, and I lead. With me, they travel through many ventures, through fruitful endeavors to reach the highest enlightenment. I let them choose their own paths, for when they’ve lost themselves, who else will walk hand-in-hand with them and understand enough to respect one with such humility and kindness?"-Papillon & Devin

---X---

➤[Modern]Name: Killian Wesley Avernus// [Demon]Name: Papillon Nox Averne ➤Alternate Names/Title: Papillon, the Lunar Chrysalis; Keely the monkie kyd/kyd'ult ➤Pen Name: Keely-Poe ➤Nicknames: Keely, Poe, Poe-Poe ➤Age: 30 ➤Birthdate: December 25 ➤Species: Celestial Monkey [Sulawesi Crested Black Macaque]///demi-monkie (half-demon) ➤Gender: Trans Man; Xenogender ➤Pronouns: he/him/his; dread/dreadself, monke/moonself ➤Preference:DemiSexual/DemiRomantic **Gray/Aro/Ace IRL [Ficto] ➤Height: 5’3” ➤Weight/Build: stout, chubby, barrel-chest ➤➤➤ ➤Moral Alignment: neutral good ➤MBTI: infp-t ➤Social View: ambivert ➤Personality: Keely craves authenticity and level-understanding. He’s driven by a desire to be true to himself and, in turn, encourage others to do the same. He values personal growth and introspection, often seeking solitude to reflect on his thoughts and feelings. In such moments, he unleashes his inner creativity, allowing his unique voice to emerge. While Keely’s personality brings forth many strengths, it also presents some challenges. He can be prone to self-doubt and overthinking, constantly questioning his own abilities and decisions. Keely's sensitive nature makes him susceptible to taking criticism personally and sometimes struggling to assert himself confidently. However, his resilience and determination ultimately prevails, pushing him to overcome these obstacles and grow stronger.

[note: Papillon does mirror Killian's personality, in most cases. His stoicism and empathy is less prominent, however.] ➤Likes: drawing, writing, cooking, poetry, traveling, adventuring, walking trails, sharks, astronomy, music, clowns/clowning, warm tea, tarantula husbandry, pomegranates, pineapple, fruit, chicken or fish meals, veggies, trying new foods, horror movies, hanging out with close friends, info-dumping about special interests, dinosaurs/paleo, ➤Dislikes: loud/abrupt sounds, flashing lights, yelling/shouting, disruptions of any kind, non-tarantula/non-jumping spiders, hot humidity, sour or spicy flavors, tummy aches, ➤Special Interests: Art/Drawing, writing/poetry, cooking/recipes/food, sharks, astronomy/stars/moon, tarantulas, paleontology, porcelain clown collecting, Journey to the West lore and studies. ➤Hobbies: drawing, writing, cooking, collecting clowns, ➤Fears: arachnophobia[complex], ➤➤➤

Papillon's info is *tricky* to place here, as he's under specific development. :3c

art/info by me

Papillon/Keely is mine.

[wastedpotentialsblog]

Finally got my hands on Season of the Plunder and I just want to put some thoughts on paper, so to speak

I knew Mithrax had a dark past as seen in Splicer and that ghost shell in Haunted, but Spider and Eramis' language is making me suspect he was a pirate, hell maybe even a Ketchkiller. That makes Eido finding him as a Vandal more significant. Or maybe his MOTHER was a Ketchkiller and he had all these expectations to be a good Ketchkiller?? Hmmm, curious

I heard a voiceline in Ketchcrash (maybe Expedition) from Eramis telling Mithrax his mother knew how the Whirlwind is to blame for the Eliksni's legacy of piracy. But, Mithrax was born into of House of Wolves and Eramis was Devils, right? Hmmmmmmm, this wording implies Eramis knew his mother personally or knew of her infamy.

Lastly, Bungie if you do something to Eido. So help me god. She craves knowledge and is immensely curious and that's a recipe for disasters when dealing with Darkness artifacts. I'm watching you...

[the-nagakenny-archives]

I'm shy but I tried writing something hope you like it

One last sip of coffee and two stomps to properly secure his boots, and the Gravity Falls Weirdness Expert was out the door.

  It was on a particularly sunny, clear day that found Stanford once again out in the field for a little catch up on his studies. The past week had been uneventful within the confines of his basement, as if the world was allowing him time to compile the numerous foot notes and sketches of his latest findings into a fairly cohesive summary within the first few pages of his second journal. Nights and afternoons were spent humming over words that didn't quite flow, and cross referencing facts he had uncovered with rumors that fell deaf upon all ears but his. Lovely as the quiet had been, seven days was more than enough time to stay cooped up in a research shack when there was plenty more to discover.

  Stanford cupped a hand around his ear and listened. A woodpecker pecked away at its hole in a birch, determined for an early breakfast. Not too far from there, a squirrel skittered along branches, hoping for an acorn meal of its own. A gnome tutted at a rainbow puddle, helping its reflection pick at its latest zit.

  All sounded normal, the scientist regarded with a deep sigh of disappointment. It was uncommon to not have something completely new to marvel over. Were it not for the gnome, one wouldn't know that they were in Gravity Falls at all. It was all so peaceful and Oregonian. Perhaps the world was still holding its breath over more important things to come. Perhaps it didn't quite realize that Stanford was more than ready to jump back into the weird and the wild.

  Four more minutes of strolling and listening, Stanford was just beginning to consider going into town to replenish his supplies when he finally spotted an unusual subject he'd been craving.

  A long, long, long snake tail hung from below the branches of a bright red leafed tree. The tip, maroon and tan in color, swung slowly and rhythmically back and forth, like the tick and tock of a pendulum on a grandfather clock. Stanford's wide eyes traveled up the tail to see the colors recede to darker browns in circled patterns as the mass grew thicker the higher his gaze climbed. Whatever was up there, the leaves could only do so much to completely cover it. It had to be massive.

The first, most obvious thought that came to his head was Python, but he quickly dismissed it. Pythons were not native to Oregon, certainly not one of this length at the very least. Except, this was Gravity Falls, where the only acceptable thing was to accept the unacceptable. Even so, a Python, even one as gigantic as this, seemed too...ordinary for the town's infamy. He'd made it this far by thinking outside the box, so what else could possible have a snake tail of this capacity?

It hit him, and he had to choke back a gasp of delight. "A naga! An actual naga!" The whispered excitement seemed especially piercing in the quiet of the early morning, but he was too elated to care. This was exactly what he had been waiting for to break what had started as a monotonous walk in the woods. Patting at his breast pocket for a pen and paper, he wracked his brain for what little he knew about these creatures. From what he remembered, the bottom half was always a snake, while the top half-

  "Well, hello."

  Stanford yelped and juggled his pen for two seconds before he composed himself enough to acknowledge that he was not alone. Clutching his pen holding hand to his chest to steady his heartbeat, he replied hesitantly, "Hello?"

  A deep, throaty chuckle seemed to echo all across the canopy of trees, a pleasant sound, but not very becoming of his nerves. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you. You just looked so excited, I got a little curious."

  It wasn't hard to put two and two together. "I...should've realized that nagas were intelligent enough to understand human speech." Stanford cleared his throat, the thrill at the thought of another research subject spurring him on. "After all, if I'm getting my facts straight, your top halves are-"

Even if he had hypothesized it, he was not at all prepared for the sight that awaiting him. Slowing winding down from the thick branches was the top half of the naga; human in shape, and far more handsome than he could've imagined. Barrel chested with long chestnut hair, soulful brown eyes twinkling with mischief, and a long nose that only seemed to complete his features all the better. The naga's mouth curled into a playful smirk at Stanford's beguiled expression.

  "Impressed? Understandable. Not every day you run into someone like me, am I right?" He twisted his upper half upside down so that his long hair hung down in a wave of brown, barely tickling the grass beneath him.

  Stanford regained just enough sense to formulate a response. "Why, er, no, certainly not...hardly ever!" His excitement renewed, he clicked his pen and resumed reaching for some paper. "You must tell me everything about you!" His grin was all teeth.

  "Well, first thing's first, how about an introduction?" The naga said with no small amount of amusement. "My name's Kenneth. Call me Kenny."

  "Ah, yes, of course." Stanford shook his head and held out a six fingered hand. "Stanford Pines. Resident Researcher of Gravity Falls Phenomena. Pleasure to meet you, Kenny." Much to his delight, the Naga extended the red tip of his tail to shake with. "So fascinating! Your girth alone would take a whole page to describe! But more about that later; I must know all about your culture!" He set his pen to paper, waiting with baited breath and still beaming.

  Kenny returned the smile gleefully. "Well, I'm partial to smooth jazz, but I can't say no to samba. Oh, and don't get me started on-" The naga's rambles were cut short by Stanford's throat clearing.

  "Um, as stimulating as that is, I was hoping to do my research on your species as a whole."

  Kenny quirked an eyebrow. "Gonna need to clear me up on that."

  Stanford nodded patiently. "Well, it could be things like, what your diet consists of. Is English the most common language among your kind? Wouldn't a jungle be more befitting for a body such as yours? What natural abilities do you harbor, if any? How did-"

  "Ep, ep, ep!" Kenny, to Stanford's slight indignation, placed a finger to his lips, interrupting his little question vomit. "I think it'd be better to answer one at a ti-" The naga's eyes seemed to glint for a moment. "What was that last question?"

  Stanford pushed the finger off his lips to answer, "Um, what natural abilities do you harbor?"

  The glint returned, and the scientist knew that he'd seen a look like that many times before. Usually it was on his brother as he was hatching one of his harebrained schemes, one that would more than likely leave the two of them grounded, in body casts, or both.

  Suddenly wary, Stanford stuttered, "Um, actually, perhaps you could tell me about your diet-"

  "No, no, no! This is a question I know I can answer!" Kenny's voice took on a musical lilt, the sound of it somehow easing just a little of Stanford's reluctance. Besides, hadn't he wanted to study more creatures?  This was a rare opportunity, and the naga had offered. Stanford could always put out any potential fire with the extinguisher he'd hidden in one of the nearby trap doors.

  "Well, alright, what are your abilities?"

  Kenny's smirk returned in full force, and Stanford suppressed the urge to cringe. He was doing this for science, he reminded himself. For science.

  "Well, you see, Stanford...can I call you Ford?"

  "Oh, uh, yes."

  "Well, Ford, us nagas all have one very special ability in common." Kenny chuckled, the force of it rippling all across his coils winding around the branches. Stanford watched, mesmerized at the browns and tans that ebbed and flowed like an ocean of coils.

  "Ah, ah, ah. Eyes over here." Kenny's tail tip gently turned Ford's eyes back to his, amusement coloring his tone.

  Ford blinked himself out of his stupor. "Yes. Sorry. You were saying?"

  "Weeell, nagas have a very useful, very fun ability we just love to use." Kenny sang.

  Ford instinctively leaned closer, now more curious than nervous. "And that is?"

  "This."

  A ring of yellow gently emerged and flowed outward from the center of Kenny's eyes. Then came orange. Then green. Then blue. Back to yellow. Orange. Green. Blue. Yellow.

  Ford gasped softly at the display. "Enchanting." He breathed. "How on earth are you doing...that with...with your...y-your eyes...?" Odd. It was getting a little hard to speak the longer he observed them. His brain would form thoughts, but the patterns would compel them to swirl away into a silvery mist. Some thoughts would reach his mouth, but his tongue was becoming heavy and useless, like he'd downed a whole bottle of red mulled wine.

  Kenny smiled softly, nodding with satisfaction at the colors emerging in his volunteer's eyes. "Magic. Although I've been told by a friend that it's slightly more complicated than that. But what matters is, it feels nice, right?"

  "Y-Yes...it does..." Stanford sighed his agreement, the hand holding his pen going slack at his side. It really was the most wonderful feeling, like any care or worry that had ever crossed his mind just didn't matter anymore. The weight of expectations and responsibilities lifted off his shoulders, and in their place was an intense feeling of relaxation and peace, welcoming him to their cozy little world of lovely colors and rippling coils.

  Ford giggled curiously. "Wazzz...wh-what's...happening?" He should have been writing this down and asking more pressing questions, but his brain may as well have been cotton by this point. Everything felt soft and warm and good.

  Kenny giggled back. "Jussst a taste of my abilities, like you wanted." He tilted his head. Ford's own head followed, glued to his eyes. "You're looking a little sleepy. How bout' a little nap?"

  "Nnn...nap...?" Ford blinked sluggishly, the word sparking a flash of recognition to reignite his sleep addled brain."H-Hold on...jus' a..." It took a painful amount of effort and willpower, so much that his eyes watered, but Ford managed to tear his eyes away from the hypnotic spectacle, taking a moment to rub the drowsy out of them.

  "I...what just..?" He was dazed and dizzy. But he knew just enough to figure that he had to keep his eyes covered.

  Kenny blinked away his hypnosis, startled by the rare show of resistance from a subject. There were few who could resist when they were that far under, but Ford just made the very short list. Even so, he wasn't completely out of the park yet, if his sleepy ramblings were any indication.

  "Aww, hey, what's wrong?" Kenny kept his voice gentle, but couldn't suppress some amusement either. "I thought you wanted to know all about the abilities of the nagas?" He tilted his head, feigning hurt.

  "Of...of course I do, but..." Ford turned away from where he heard the voice, having enough sense to cover his eyes with his arms, but not enough to remember how close he was to Kenny's tree. "I...I need to be-OOF!" He smacked right into it, the shock enough to snap him out of the spell completely.

  He shook the swirls and cobwebs from his head, gritting his teeth and focusing on the pain. "You..." He turned back to where he thought Kenny was, eyes shut tight and pointing accusingly. "You tried to hypnotize me!"

  "Wrong way." The voice to his left snorted playfully.

  Red in the face more from embarrassment than anger, Ford turned in the proper direction. "What do you intend to do, use me as some sort of thrall?! Easy slave labor?!"

  Kenny clapped. "Ha! Much more original than any accusations of eating people! But no." Ford heard a rustling of leaves to his right, and he flinched backwards, into a mass of coils that propped around his shoulders like a friendly arm. "You asked me what nagas could do. I was just showing you the works."

  Stanford stubbornly remained angry. "You could've just told me! Or I could've watched you do it on a gnome, or...I don't recall giving you consent to hypnotize me!"

  Kenny held up his hands in a placating gesture(that Stanford could not see). "Easy there, Ford! You're saying you didn't like it?"

  Ford sputtered indignantly. "I...that's besides the point! I'm doing this for science, not for a...a nap! Can you imagine how many hours of precious research time I'll lose if I sleep?!"

  To his surprise, Kenny's voice took on the slightest bit of concern. "Um, when was the last time you slept?"

  Once again caught off guard, Ford had to gather his thoughts and take a deep breath to answer calmly. "I can handle not sleeping for a few days. What I can't handle is how the world moves on with or without me. Every second of every minute of every hour, something is happening. Creatures to catalogue, reports to write, disputes to diverge! I'm going to change the world with this project! I'll sleep when I'm dead!" Ford had forgotten what calm was by the end of his tirade.

  Still with that aggravating concern he'd often heard from his mother, brother, and Fiddleford, Kenny tutted and gave Ford's shoulders a little squeeze with his coils.

  "That's no way to go, buddy. Everyone needs sleep. Even life changers like you."

  "We're getting off subject." Ford gritted his teeth, trying to breathe evenly. "You showed your ability. Thank you. I'll write all about it in my next volume. Now leave me alone." Eyes still shut, Ford ducked under the coils and felt around for the paper he had dropped during his little spell. Kenny's tail curled around his right wrist, as though dejected by the lack of attention. The six fingered scientist yanked his hand away, cursing quietly when he dropped the pen it'd been holding. "I mean it, Kenny. I've had enough." He snapped.

  "Oh, but you really haven't."

  Maybe it was the cockiness with which the naga said it, but Ford couldn't withhold his curiosity. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, that I'd only just begun, and you'd only barely felt the full effects of a naga's powers. You resisted, and that just sent everything off kilter. Imagine how much info you could write about if you only knew what it's really like to be hypnotized by a real naga?" Kenny studied his own hands smugly, feigning nonchalance and hoping the anticipation didn't show on his face. He needed a new cuddle buddy after all.

  Wait. Ford's eyes were still closed. What did Kenny have to worry about?

  Ford crossed his arms, tapping a finger against his jacket. Kenny was just using promises of scientific discovery as a lure for another hapless victim, that's all this was.

  Regardless, he did have to know something. "Why do you even want to hypnotize me, anyway? It can't just be because you think I need sleep." Ford huffed.

  Kenny shrugged(Ford could STILL not see it). "I just wanted a cuddle. The fact that you need sleep is serendipitous."

  Stanford had lost count of how many times this naga had had him completely flustered. "That's...that's why you...huh?"

  "Of course! It's what I do. And no, it's not really a naga thing. It's just a Kenny thing." The naga laughed.

  Ford found himself letting his guard down a little at the confession. "That's...really all there is to it?"

  "Mm-hm!" Kenny nodded confidently. "Besides, is losing a few hours to the best sleep you'll ever have really that bad? Think of the discoveries you're missing out on!"

  "W-Well, no, but...cuddle with you? I mean, that's just...uh..." Darn it, he was thinking of the discoveries! What could he be missing by resisting such power? Was sleep all that would happen? Could he dream under the effects of naga hypnosis? How long could a human like himself last before he gave in?

  The questions were leaking through the dam of resistance in his brain. It wasn't long before they'd break free. Not only that, but...it's not like anyone would know about this. There was no one around this area but him and Kenny. Losing a bit of dignity for a few hours couldn't be too bad, could it?

  Slowly, Ford allowed his crossed arms to leave his side. He knelt to the ground, feeling around for a good place to sit.

  "I'll take that as a 'Go ahead'?" Kenny couldn't hide his excitement.

  Hands patting a particularly soft mound of earth, Ford grunted and set himself into an upright sitting position, legs splayed. "Don't try anything stupid." He warned, determined to have as much control over this bizarre circumstance as he could.

  "No problem at all." Kenny giggled. "Now, how 'bout you open your eyes, first."

  Reluctantly, Ford slowly pried his eyes open, squinting against the light of mid-morning. Blinded, it took five seconds for his eyes to adjust the many colors of the day.

  But then, he realized, it wasn't the day he was looking at. It was a now familiar sight of oranges and yellows and...he could barely keep track. They were going at a steady rate, but when he thought he could pick out one color, that one would fade into another, and another, and another...

  Ford squinted, still stubbornly wanting to remain in control. Who said he couldn't monitor the scientific intonations in his head, after all? That way he could do research on the naga's hypnosis without losing any time to useless pastimes like sleeping.

  The colors are reaching a familiar pattern. They ebb and flow like tides of the ocean. One disappears, only to appear just when you've forgotten it existed. Incredible. Dazzling. So very...focus! I hear something. A voice...a song...birds? No. Smoother. Kenny? Is it a lullaby? Trying to make it more challenging? Do your worst. I'm not...sleepy...at...all...Beautiful...So pretty...FOCUS!

  Kenny watched, patiently awaiting Ford's lapse into sleep. One second his swirling eyes would droop, the next they would spring back up as he caught himself growing drowsy. Even when Kenny began to hum a gentle, lulling tune, Ford was putting up a good fight. But if the bags under his eyes told him anything, it was that he really needed a siesta.

  Right. Time for a little coiling.

  Noises of the forest are...fading...easier to focus on Kenny's voice...all that matters...wait. No. I was...I can't...sleep now...not yet...Focus on...ability...

  Getting harder...to fight...melatonin trigger perhaps...so sleepy...yes, must be...mela...the stuff that...makes you...sleep...eyes make it...easy...to sleep...using...colors...lovely colors...

  ...?

  Feeling...heavy...around...waist...

  Indeed, a coil was just starting to inch its way around Ford's abdomen, squeezing in especially tense areas and loosening any aches and pains he had been feeling just seconds before. Around and around the tail went, carefully pinning his arms to his sides, just enough to restrain, not enough to alarm or hurt. The tip continued on upward, reaching over his chest, feeling his slow, steady heartbeat. When the tail reached his shoulders, Kenny used his impressive strength to gently tilt Ford backwards, lying him on the ground, and making sure his hypnotic eyes were always in view.

  ...Warm...Blanket...? No...coils...? So...sleepy...Why was...I...fighting...?

  Kenny grinned over the helpless state Ford was in. His mouth hung open, his lids were periodically shutting and opening out of sync over his still swirling eyes, and his upper body was all wrapped up in his coziest coils. Still, even after all that effort, Ford looked like he need just one more little push. A nudge in the right direction.

  Kenny slowly, slowly, slowly pulled him into the air, so that he hung suspended over the ground, legs dangling with the direction he swayed in. Another loop of coils around his body, and Stanford was covered neck to toe in the warm embrace of a naga hug.

  ...Being..held...so...wonderful...

  Eyes lidded so low he could barely see Kenny's, Ford moaned softly at the sensations of his predicament. He couldn't remember why he had bothered fighting. Actually, he couldn't remember anything outside of his euphoric drowsiness and coil cocoon. Even then, Kenny noticed that his eyes hadn't closed just yet. Continuing his hummed lullaby, Kenny gave the coiled mass a little push, giving it a rocking effect.

  ...back...forth...back...forth...sleepy...so...sleepy...

  I'm...

  Falling...

  Falling...

  F...a...l...l...i...n...g...

  Gentle snores emerged from the cocoon, and Kenny sighed with satisfaction. "That wasn't so bad, was it now?" The tip of his tail closed Ford's mouth, where the snores turned into deep breathing. The coils gradually shifted from horizontal to vertical, so that his cheek was comfortably rested against his scaly bonds.

  Kenny ran a hand through Ford's brown hair, smiling with his usual mischief. "You wouldn't mind sharing your results when you wake up, would you?"

---submitted by b120583

OOC: I love this! :'3 Always nice to see a character like Ford in a situation like this <3

[van-zieksy]

Hello, Zieksy! I came here to deliver something worth of thought perhaps by yours truly! I hope you don’t mind :D

Here’s your typical sorta angst thought coming up: It really saddens me to think that Barok as a result of his infamy as the “Reaper” and his isolation for 10 long years, is more than likely touch-starved! poor man is probably secretly craving hugs but refrains from acting upon it or asking for it to uphold his image and to control himself.

I think he wouldn’t really oppose to hugging in private, though... but you’ll have to earn his trust first, which is fair. Please, let this man feel safe :’(

Hello, my lovely mutual!

Thank you so much for your ask. I am always so happy to hear from you @angeaxil.

Your thoughts totally resonate with me! This poor man finds it hard to trust people, and it’s easy to see why. (The first paragraph will be slightly angsty - and this response will also contain spoilers for anyone who hasn't played the DGS games yet -, just to be aware.) Yes, his brother was taken from him; the sibling who helped raise him and played an integral part in who Barok is today. But it’s not so much that his brother was murdered; it’s by whose hands he was taken from him. The other older man who – according to Barok – had the same great eyes full of conviction and was very similar to Klint. The friend who Barok looked up to, admired, and trusted with every part of his soul. If someone like that is capable of such a cruel act, how can he trust anyone else ever again? When Klint and Genshin died, a part of Barok died with them. All the good he saw in humans evaporated in front of his own eyes. What he thought was true, his ideals, his aspirations, his desires, it all crumbled to pieces in just a few short weeks. How can he ever let anyone close to him again if one of the most significant people in his life up until that point betrayed his and his brother's trust? After what happened, he had to find himself again. But he wasn’t really afforded the opportunity and didn’t have time to regain trust in people because he soon became the victim of the Reaper plot. He accepted the persona because he was led to believe that it meant Klint was still around and because he realised that his curse caused a significant drop in heavy crimes. Barok’s beloved deceased brother taking the lives of people (albeit hardened criminals), forcing him to face his dear late brother over and over again in such a tragic way. How cruel do humans have to be to even come up with something like that? As you’ve already pointed out, the Reaper caused him a lot of suffering and loneliness. While he quickly made a name for himself as an outstanding, respectable and fearsome prosecutor (something to be proud of), he had to face the mistrust and prejudices of the public at the same time. He couldn’t save his brother, and now he’s also being held responsible for deaths that have nothing to do with him. How can he allow anyone near him if it may cause them suffering or even death? There just wasn’t any room for a romantic relationship or even deep friendships.

Now ten years later he is absolutely touch-starved! After the reveal of the Professor case, he now knows that the person he cherished most turned over to the dark side (Klint), the person he held in the highest regards took advantage of Klint's trust/despair and betrayed Barok (Genshin), and most other people who were close to him in one way or another betrayed him, too (Stronghart, Gregson, Sithe….even Kazuma - who he agreed to mentor despite having his reservations about someone who has supposedly lost his memory - wanted to see him dead). The thing is, he did have his doubts about some people in his life, but he just didn’t want to believe that those people would hurt him, so he must think of himself a fool for not trusting his intuition. But he also realises that he’s a better, stronger, more principled person than the likes of Stronghart, Klint, Gregson, Genshin and Sithe, so there’s still the possibility for him to venture into a brighter future. It will take some time for him to heal, but there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s looking forward to forming new relationships, which will also include physical contact. While initially his social life will most likely consist of Kazuma (who will eventually become a great friend; they have a lot in common and can share their respective pain), Iris and Sholmes, as well as Ryuunosuke and Susato (mostly exchanging letters), the time will come when he will want to form new relationships. If we allow him some time to slowly regain his trust in humans, I wholeheartedly believe that he will want to have his own family.

Barok is a person who believes that actions speak louder than words. Like you’ve said, anyone has to gain his trust first. But once you are able to form a relationship with him – whether it be friendship or love – this man is the kindest, most loyal, thoughtful, dedicated and protective human being you will ever know. The prosecutor we see in the games may appear to be non-approachable, but he only does so because he has no other choice. Why waste precious time on social niceties when there’s a great possibility that the person in front of you may stab you in the back? His true self does shine through on multiple occasions, which even Ryuu notices in 2-4, when he points out that he can tell that Barok is a good person based on how he treats people in court. His first physical contact will probably be with his niece. Yes, Iris will learn the truth about Barok shortly after the second game and will want to spend lots of time with him. She jumps into his arms once he opens the door to his countryside mansion to welcome her for the first time. They leisurely stroll through the garden hand-in-hand. She sits in his lap as he’s reading stories to her. He showers her with attention and praise and allows her to fulfill her dreams. Physical affection was not something Victorian adults/parents provided often – if at all -, especially not in the higher echelons of society, but Barok is different. Barok does not desire to have superficial relationships. His heart aches for deep relationships in which human souls form a connection. Relationships than can even be transcendental in nature. It is then that he realises that he longs to have a romantic partner in his life, someone who he can share anything with...a family.

The first time his partner and he share a touch is like a revelation to him. He hasn’t allowed anyone to brush against his cheeks, cup his jaw, touch his waist and stroke his hair in years. It sends sensations through his body he completely forgot were possible. Barok also forgot how good it can feel to kiss the person you love with all your heart. During the ten year of loneliness he could have given into his urges and sought out superficial „pleasure“, and while he did consider doing so a few times, he knew that that’s not who he truly is. It wouldn’t have fulfilled him. And the few attempts at romantic relationships were quickly abandoned because he was scared something bad may happen to his love interests. So he did have some physical contact in the privacy of his manor, but not as much as he desired. He enjoys being touched by his loved one and allows for that to happen quite often because he just can’t get enough of it, but even more so he enjoys giving his all to make his partner feel good. This man has always been selfless. He gains the greatest satisfaction from showing others that he deeply cares about them and their well-being. Barok will eventually become a father of adorable kids who have his fluffy, purplish hair and his deep, turquoise eyes that are a window to the soul. Those little bundles of joy are spending a lot of time around their sister Iris (yes, Iris found a second father in Barok lol). Finally this man has been able to achieve the live and the love he always deserved...with lots of touches, hugs, and other displays of phyiscal affection.

With my kindest regards,

Zieksy

P.S. I do hope my lengthy response does not offend.

[changelingz]

there  was  something  great  about  knowing  how  to  push  his  buttons  ,  the  ability  to  exploit  those  rare  moments  where  he  showed  something  more  than  his  classic  chaotic  jessie  .  for  star  ,  she  had  thought  herself  not  a  match  for  jessie  because  she  valued  herself  as  a  temporary  girlfriend  ,  one  of  those  people  that  caused  trouble  ,  was  remembered  ,  then  disappeared  into  infamy  however  the  passing  months  and  even  year  had  began  to  prove  to  her  their  relationship  was  more  than  that  .  they  had  never  been  together  ,  never  professed  a  single  positive  profession  toward  each  other  ...  despite  their  shotgun  marriage  and  fast  annulment  or  the  many  strange  moments  they  shared  .  her  glass  is  still  balanced  on  the  edge  of  the  couch  as  he  leans  in  and  his  whisper  only  causes  her  to  smile  more  ,  "  i  don't  think  you're  bored  with  me  .  "  a  bold  statement  ,  one  that  might  have  shattered  the  multiverse  in  terms  of  them  gravitating  towards  each  other  due  to  their  craving  of  chaos  and  unruly  behaviour  .  she  shifts  even  closer  ,  moves  one  leg  across  his  lap  so  she's  straddling  him  ,  face  to  face  and  gaze  meeting  .  she  had  no  trouble  holding  court  ,  they  both  had  that  in  common  ...  their  devil  may  care  attitude  that  seems  to  only  falter  at  certain  times  .  "  you're  excited  by  me  ,  aren't  you  ?  "  tilts  her  head  to  the  side  ,  blonde  hair  falling  ,  presses  glass  ridge  against  her  pink  lips  and  then  as  her  grin  grows  ,  a  deviance  to  her  actions  when  she  lifts  other  hand  to  underneath  his  chin  ,  tilting  his  own  head  .  "  i  think  that  you  looooove  me  .  you  can't  stay  away  from  me  ...  that's  why  you're  in  my  house  right  now  ...  i'm  your  secret  celebrity  crush  .  that's  the  only  thing  that  makes  sense  ,  "  challenging  him  to  argue  with  her  .  did  she  really  believe  there  was  value  to  his  obsession  with  her  ?  star  barely  paid  attention  ,  finding  the  whole  thing  entertaining  and  unable  to  focus  on  the  idea  that  the  two  of  them  were  two  cars  on  the  same  collision  past  ,  destined  to  meet  every  time  .  actually  ,  calmer  together  than  they  ever  had  been  apart  .

whenever there was a gentleness to anything the two did , there was usually a 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 involved . not only with each other but with anyone . playing a part , doing what they felt they had to do to get whatever outcomes they were trying to get out of any given situation . a great 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐂 they shared in common and because of that , they were able to find the fun and pure annoyance in it whenever they did it to each other . of course , there was also the fact that star knew how to press his buttons . she knew what she was doing to get under his skin and he knew she knew . he knew that she would do it and yet , it worked every time . ⏤ most would probably find everything she was saying as a compliment . as a way to boost ones ego , make them feel satisfied with themself but jessie knew she was trying to poke at him . ( make him the punchline . ) as well as the fact that he didn't like that she had anything to hold over him . . . any instances of him being a normal and decent human being . . . it was 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 , 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 . . . 𝐔𝐍𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 . a piece of their so called lore that he hope and prayed went under the radar to never be talked about again . ⏤ opening the bottle of peach schnapps he'd snatched from the kitchen . jessie brought the bottle up to his lips and took a swig . feeling no need to pour it into a glass . as she leaned in , it was almost a 𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐗 for him to lean into it . simply because he did like it as much as he hated it . although , the moment the words started spilling out her lips , his eyes rolled . the second she was going on about him being sweet , he knew where this was going . ❛ you're such an ass , ❜ he spoke under his breath as her hand brushed against his skin . raising his hand up to her hand , he dragged her hand down from his cheek . ❛ it was a weak moment , ❜ he retorted , moving a hand up , before brushed his fingers through her hair . pushing back some of the golden blonde strains behind her ear as he leaned further into her in order to whisper in her ear . ❛ a poor lack of judgement . ❜ pulling back again . he knew that she was so 𝐎𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 to the things he did and the way he reacted or manly why he did but he also knew that she had some sense . sense enough to attack him with his moments of , what he'd consider , a weakness for her . ❛ the things we do out of boredom , am i right ? ❜ jessie continued , his need to deny being obvious and in a way probably left room for star to poke even more . an easy opening for one of jessie's bizarre tantrums .