#namely: both will make tradeoffs

[essayofthoughts]

I think another hair-splitting thing that is nonetheless VERY important is that

Vax did not want to die

Vax DID want to keep his promise.

Which utility mentions, but doesn't like. Go into the underlying detail which is... Sometimes you do things you don't want to do because it's nonetheless the right thing to do. Because you promised. Because you owe a debt. Because you have to. It doesn't mean it necessarily makes you happy.

As utility says, staying with Vex and Keyleth would make him happy if that was something he could do without breaking his promise - but breaking his promise would be at odds with who he is as a person and who is as a person is someone who is willing to make hard choices. He sold a stranger into slavery to save his sister. He fights with Percy on moral issues. He throws himself into harm's way to help his friends. These aren't things he wants to do, necessarily, but they are things he is willing to do. Things he does because if he didn't he wouldn't be himself. Because he always wants to protect Vex, because he has his moral beliefs, because he loves his friends and wants them safe. And if that costs him a night of sleep, or easy friendship, or an ounce of flesh and blood - then so be it. That is the price of being the person he wants to be and doing the things that keep with his identity and the person he wants to be.

And so: he struck a deal with the Matron. Yes, out of-game, Matt would likely have allowed Liam to make a new character of an on-par level with Vax to ensure the party wasn't hobbled in the last fight. But in universe Vax didn't know that! In-universe Vax knew that his friends and dearest loved ones were about to do something incredibly dangerous and that he was being given a chance to help and I don't think he could have lived with himself if he didn't help.

And the cost of being able to give that help was to return to the Matron and work with her thereafter. Not something he wanted to do - or perhaps, not something he wanted to do yet, something he would have happily done after a long and happy life - but something he was willing to do. An acceptable price for the thing he did want to do.

He got to see his loved ones. He got to save his loved ones. He got to tell his loved ones goodbye.

Vax knows, from his mother, just how unlikely that is to have. Of course he paid the price for it. He knew what he got for that was worth it to him.

finally watched cooldown and two thoughts:

Smart of Matt to be like "no, we will have a satisfying denouement for other major figures involved" after the collective C2 ending freakouts; like, it feels like we are pretty obviously deep in the endgame but yeah I expect there will be check-ins after the last battle with Vox Machina, the Mighty Nein, and the Crown Keepers, plus probably the Calloways; obviously Liliana will be present. Might need two post BBEG combat episodes instead of the traditional one!

Other people have noted this but yeah it's actually...fucking weird how Liam is the only person who seems to in real life accept that Vax is permanently gone and you can't like, cheat this. And it's frustrating because he is no less dead than Zuala or Will or Molly or FCG. Like, sending the ravens and popping back in does mean it's harder for Keyleth to get over it, but like. idk maybe stop trying to go on random dates and just spend time with people who aren't technically under your (benevolent) rule or also people who never really accepted Vax's death (ie, the rest of Vox Machina). I mean I enjoyed the scene with Verin, and I think there's an intriguing case to be made there anyway (high expectations in childhood, leadership at a very young age, grew up without one of their parents) but just generally...she will never forget Vax, it will always be a scar, but she can move forward if she accepts his choice even if she disagrees with it. At this point...if she can't move on, that is because she won't. And a little bit because seven years later the cast won't.

[wttcsms]

as it was ; suguru geto.

pairing suguru geto x f!reader  word count 4.2k  synopsis suguru comes back, only to find that you've been waiting and wanting this whole entire time. content contains modern no curses!au, gojo's sister!reader, brother's best friend, creampie, pet names (good girl, baby), most of the fic is geto's introspection, possessive sex, mutual pining/longing author’s notes im not even horny for geto like that, but i wanted to write angsty smut abt spreading ur legs for a guy that left u & who else is better for this than geto <3

First words are always a bit tricky to get right, especially whenever he has to take into account that he essentially ghosted you a couple of years ago, after taking your virginity no less, and now he’s back in the godforsaken city he swore he was never coming back to, and he’s just at a loss about what to say and more importantly, how to say it. 

He supposes an apology, for starters, would be a good first move. And maybe it would be, could be, should be, if only he wasn’t him and you weren’t you, and the two of you were not something so confusing and intricate that it’s hard to put into words and harder still to describe with emotions. The two of you are something raw and painful, both of you taking turns playing both sadist and masochist. 

Even to himself, the extent of your relationship sounds twisted, but there was always an underlying purity to it, something that justified its existence. To this day, Suguru Geto is certain that you’re the only person who ever loved him for him, with a love so pure and just that he tries to hide it from everyone else before they can get their filthy hands on it and taint it, twist it into something it’s not. 

Sorry I left won’t cut it, and Geto doesn’t even bother trying to come up with any other variations of apology because it’s not necessarily your forgiveness that he’s come back for. The opportunity to say “I’m sorry” and have it actually mean something has long since passed. All that’s left to say is the truth for why he left, which for some odd reason, seems even harder to do than his original disappearing act.

I missed you — that’s a slight improvement. It’s the truth, if not an understatement of it. He doesn’t regret leaving Tokyo, he just regrets leaving you. Which he could say, if you would actually open the door to face him. 

He figures it’s what he deserves. He deserves worse, if he’s going to be entirely honest. He deserves a slap to the face, or a kick to his balls, or for you to tell him that you hate him, that you never want to see him ever again. 

He knocks on your apartment door, harder this time, as if it’s something urgent. And maybe it is. He’s felt more like himself than he ever has after moving, but the solitude of the countryside got boring soon after, leaving him only with the ghosts from his past to keep him company. He thinks if he doesn’t see you, in the flesh, he might actually go insane. 

He knocks again, only to be met with more silence and a door that’s starting to become more of a familiar sight than he would like. Fuck, what is he even doing? Showing up here was a bad idea to begin with, and it’s only seemingly getting worse by every agonizing second that ticks by. Even if you do open the door, there’s always the chance that you won’t let him get a single word in — that’d be the smart choice, anyway. 

And you’re a bright girl, don’t get him wrong. Something about the Gojo bloodline makes your family incapable of producing anything less than prodigal sons and daughters. If you’re not proof of this fact, there’s your older brother.

Yet another reason why showing up here is such a shitty plan. Satoru will catch wind of his visit, and when he does, he’ll show no restraint in showing Suguru what all of his private boxing lessons are good for. A broken nose and missing tooth would be a fair exchange to see you for at least a second, though. A tradeoff that he doesn’t need to debate on. 

You have to leave your apartment eventually. Suguru dances with the idea of just making camp outside your door and waiting for your stubbornness to fizzle out. It’ll be embarrassing, and your neighbors will surely have something to say about it, but it would be well worth it.

He hears the ding! of the elevator opening and human reflex causes his head to turn at the sound of the noise. 

Oh.

The world becomes contradictory at this very moment. The air suddenly stills, but the atmosphere itself seems to come alive at the same time. Stagnant air, bursting with electricity and something awe-inspiring. Everything seems to slow down, but suddenly he’s acutely aware of just how alarmingly fast his heart is beating. It’s been a while since he’s last seen you, not even bothering to check up on your social media because he knows one DM from you would have him crossing the ocean to be back by your side. 

The reason why you weren’t answering your door was simply because you weren’t even home. Relief floods his body, makes him less tense, only for him to stiffen up once more whenever his eyes trail over to the warm body awfully close to you. 

Or maybe it’s the other way around, since you’re the one clinging onto him.

You and Kento Nanami both look like you two have seen a ghost, and all things considered, you wouldn’t be wrong. 

“What are you doing here?” You’re the first to speak, with Nanami’s arm wrapped protectively around your waist, and it’s this closeness that’s the only thing Suguru finds himself able to focus on. It’s been years. He shouldn’t feel this way. You’re free to do whatever you want with whoever you want. It’s your life. He’s the one that chose to walk out of it, anyway. 

“I just wanted to talk,” he answers. Which isn’t a lie. He wanted to talk. He wanted to fight and make up and fuck your brains out and beg for forgiveness and cook you breakfast in the morning and warm your bed, amongst other things, too. But, he figures the condensed version of his list will do, especially considering that three’s a crowd, and most of his itinerary was for your ears only. “Did I come at a bad time?” 

You bite your bottom lip, slowly removing yourself from Nanami’s grip. Nanami looks at you first, concern evident in his warm eyes, eyes that you wish were just a bit darker and colder, so that they would be the ones you’re so accustomed to drowning in. 

You like Nanami well enough. He’s kind and looks out for you, and sometimes you even consider making a move on him first since he’s too much of a gentleman to cross any boundaries. Then again, you don’t think Nanami sees you as anything more than a little sister, and the last time you fucked one of your brother’s best friends… 

It’s why you just give Nanami a smile, one that tells him that you’ve got this under control. His facial expression doesn’t give any indication of what he’s thinking, but the glare he sends Suguru’s way says enough. 

Suguru can appreciate the fierce protectiveness Nanami has towards you, but it doesn’t mean he likes it. Especially when it’s Suguru that’s considered to be the threat.

You move to unlock your door once Nanami makes his reluctant exit, and when you enter your apartment, you conveniently don’t shut the door. Suguru trails behind you.

You turn on the lights, your living room and kitchen blending together in an open-floor plan, bathed in the stark, white lights hanging from your high ceilings. Your apartment, at least what Suguru can see of it, is tastefully decorated. Courtesy of your mother, he’s sure. He would ask about her, ask how she’s doing, but he figures now’s just not the right timing. 

It doesn’t seem to be the right timing for anything he wants to say. He wants to mention that he’s thought about you, thought about reaching out — sometimes to explain himself, and other times just to discuss the mundane aspects of life — but he thinks that would be even worse than apologizing. It would be cruel of him to dangle this information in your face, haunt you with the knowledge that all this time, he’s truly been avoiding you. Knowing you, you would have questioned him on why he didn’t bother reaching out, and he would have been stuck admitting that it’s simply because he was too scared that you wouldn’t answer. 

“Want a drink?” You ask him, back facing him as you peer into your fridge. He catches a glimpse of shiny glass bottles, water bottled in Europe and with the optimal pH balance, he’s certain of it. His throat feels a bit dry, but he tells you no. 

“I drank enough water on the drive up here,” he tells you, which again, isn’t a lie. Suguru feels a bit pleased with himself, even if it is a bit narcissistic of himself for expecting a pat on the back for doing something so simple. He supposes it’s just because he’s gotten so used to never being honest with himself — or others, for that matter — so his current streak for telling the truth seems like something to celebrate. 

“I didn't drink enough.” You say, and he can’t tell if it’s alcohol you’re talking about or water. You’re a lightweight; yet another trait that seems to be passed down the Gojo family. That explains Nanami escorting you home, then. 

“Aren’t you going to ask how I found you?” Suguru helps himself to taking a seat on the white couch in your living room. Because there’s no walls separating the two different spaces, he can still look at you from this position as you rest your elbows on your kitchen’s island, as if needing the support. 

“If you wanted me to know, you’d let me know.” It’s the way you say it that reveals that this comment isn’t made just in reply to his current question, but for everything else Suguru was going to follow it with. Don’t you want to know where I went? Don’t you want to know why I left? 

It’s amazing what humans are capable of. Nearly six years since the two of you have lost contact — since Suguru broke all contact — and yet, you can still read him just as well as he can read you. You see him for what he is, not whatever mask he wants to disguise himself with, and it’s scary, he thinks. Scary to be seen by someone. And nice. It’s nice to have someone know you’re a monster and still not run away.

He’s not quite sure what that says about you.

“It’s a bit of a funny story.” He says, trying to steer this conversation to a more lighthearted tone even though the two of you are nowhere close to feeling light and the jury’s still out on whether or not Suguru Geto has a heart. “You don’t need the reminder, but don’t ever tell Mei Mei a secret you want to keep.” 

The mention of your shared friend — if Mei Mei can even be considered one — makes the corners of your pretty mouth tilt upward. Mei Mei was born with a silver spoon, but the running joke is that it wasn’t in her mouth because she bartered with the doctor and blackmailed him into giving her a gold one. If you have the funds, Mei Mei has the information you’re looking for. 

She’s the only number Suguru saved in his phone contacts, and it’s only because he knew that if he needed anyone else’s number, Mei Mei would readily give it after her Venmo request goes through. 

“Of course she would tell you my address.” You say, but you don’t sound upset at all. Just amused, like this whole situation is something endearing, and you don’t harbor any ill feelings towards either of them, even though both Suguru and Mei Mei technically violated your trust. Suguru more so than Mei Mei, but, well, semantics. 

“Aren’t you mad?” The “at me” is unspoken.

“Mei Mei is a free spirit.” It’s a joke, and Suguru makes a sound from his throat that resembles a laugh. Mei Mei may do whatever she wants, but nothing about her comes free.

He knows you know what he was actually asking. He’s been trying to gauge your reaction to everything he says, trying to see if you hate his guts or not. 

“I missed you.” You tell him suddenly, and while he’s imagined those words coming out of your mouth, it still shakes him up a bit. It’s hard constantly posturing as if he’s cool and collected, nothing ever bothering him, his body and expression never betraying him. But it’s his heart that gives him away, and it’s heart that you hold, and no matter what face he puts on, he knows that you’ll know what the words he won’t say are.

“Don’t apologize.” You continue, closing the distance between you two and opting to take a seat next to him. There’s about six inches of space separating you two. The distance shapeshifts in his mind, sometimes becoming mere millimeters and sometimes feeling more like there’s an ocean between you both. 

The sorry was on the tip of his tongue and it traveled all the way there from his heart. It would be a waste of a journey for him to not say it, but he’s certain the apology would do more harm than good, even if it is genuine. 

Suguru stands out against the stark white of your apartment. Your mom likes the aesthetic of it, and since it’s your parents’ money, you merely shrugged and let her do whatever she wanted. In his black pants and black sweatshirt, he looks almost out of place in your home. 

The thought that he doesn’t belong makes your heart hurt more than the burn of the alcohol from tonight going down your throat. 

You don’t waste time wondering where Suguru went because for all intents and purposes, you never even knew where he came from to begin with. You knew him since you were children; your favorite out of all your brother’s friends because it was always Suguru who let you tag along and trail behind them. No one really knows much about Suguru’s life, his past, present, and future all a big blur to anyone but himself. From the way he slowly turns to face you, dark eyes meeting yours, you start to think of the possibility that maybe not even Suguru is an open book with himself. 

Suguru looks like a shadow, standing out from the brightness of everything that is surrounding him in your living room. You want to ask him the questions that plague your mind ever since he’s been gone, but you don’t, because you’re scared he is a shadow. One wrong move, and he just disappears from your grasp once again. 

There are the hard-hitting questions, of course. The ones that search for why he left and why he told no one and why he didn’t bother taking you. Then there are the gentler ones that would still require him to rip himself open and bare himself to you, things like how’s your new place and meet anyone interesting? You feel his gaze travel from your eyes to the slope of your nose and the apples of your cheek, downward to your lips. The intensity of his stare makes you nervously lick your lips, a tiny, quick action, but his eyes greedily take in the sight of the tip of your pink tongue casually making an appearance, only to retreat behind your pretty pink, glossed lips. 

“Are you mad that I came back?” Suguru finds himself taking the role of interviewer, since it’s evident to the two of you that you know better than to bother asking him any questions. He feels like you’re treating him a bit like a stray cat, all cautious and scared of provoking him or forcing him to run away. He wants to tell you that this is not the case and that he actually plans on staying this time around, but he hasn’t entirely convinced himself yet, so he’s not going to break your heart with any more empty promises. 

“No. Like I said, I missed you.” He wants to be able to blame your honesty on account of you being drunk, but he knows that you’ve just always been honest to a fault. 

“You shouldn’t.” He tells you this, and you scoff. Probably because Suguru is the last person who should be giving any sort of life advice. 

“Guess what I’m thinking.” You say, and Suguru feels something come alive from within, like he’s been frozen for the past six years, and the more he gets to bask in the warmth of your presence, the more he starts to defrost. There’s not a single hint of anger or malice in your tone, just the familiar, lighthearted, girlish tone of yours. 

“That you think I’m a creep and want me to get the hell out.” 

You frown, rolling your eyes, tucking your feet beneath you to get more comfortable on the couch.

“I’m thinking about that last time you told me I shouldn’t be doing something.” There’s a gleam in your bright eyes that clearly spells out desire, and Suguru is very, very close to defrosting. In fact, there’s a heat that’s beginning to settle deep in him, and maybe he should know better than to indulge in it, but it’s been years, and you are sitting here in front of him, pretty and fresh, and his hindbrain takes the driver’s seat. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But he does know, and he knows that you know that he knows, just as you seemingly know everything about him. Maybe not about his childhood — or lack, thereof — or what he’s been up to, but you know the important stuff. The things that make him tick and all the words he fails to say. Three words. Three words that he doesn’t think he’ll ever muster enough courage to say to you, but from the look in your eyes, you already know. 

“I’ll jog your memory.” 

And suddenly, your lips are pressed against his. You’re kissing him, and like the lovesick fool he is, he’s kissing you back. It’s pure muscle memory, maybe even animal instinct. He thought that leaving Tokyo was the right thing to do, and for the most part, it was, but with your lips perfectly melding with his own, he thinks that leaving was stupid. 

Making out is such a juvenile ordeal, but he relishes in it because Suguru feels like he’s spent most of his youth trying to outrun it, and now he’s trying to take advantage of what his boyhood should have consisted of. The kisses are now bordering on sloppy and hazy, and somehow, you end up straddling his lap. He’s hard, and he should be embarrassed at popping a boner just from wet kisses, but it’s you. You have an effect on him that no one else does. His Achilles. The one weakness only he can feel. 

Suguru knows that he is not a good person because a good person doesn’t go behind their best friend’s back and fucks their little sister. He had told, thirty minutes before introducing you to the feeling of his cock stretching you out, that the two of you shouldn’t be doing that. Suguru knows that he is not a good person because he cannot be any happier at the fact that history has a funny way of repeating itself. Six years later, and the two of you are back in a similar position.

You’re starting to rut against him, your dress riding up your thighs and exposing more of your skin to him. Suguru helps himself to handfuls of your soft flesh, squeezing in a manner that can’t be defined as gentle, but he loves how you take him as he is without any sort of complaint. All you do is let out a low moan, your pantyclad pussy grinding against his equally clothed bulge. 

Your movements are a bit desperate, frenzied. You’re getting lost in pleasure already, and he hasn’t even done much to elicit such a reaction. The idea that only he can get you this riled up with doing so little makes him impossibly harder, and he looks down, realizing that you’re so soaked, your panties are practically translucent. 

The two of you have the option of taking things slow, but neither of you want to do that. When you spend some time starving, you don’t savor the meal, you scarf it down. 

That’s what the two of you are — hungry, greedy — as you both hastily strip as much clothing as you can bear to spend time getting out of. Your minidress is tossed carelessly on the living room floor, and Suguru can only bother with unzipping his pants and pushing down his briefs just enough to free his cock. 

The intrusion of the tip of his cock entering your wet, needy cunt is less of an intrusion and instead akin to something rightfully returning to where it belongs. Your hands are tangled in his hair, and he relishes this feeling. This wholeness, this concept of being complete.

The inviting warmth of your pussy makes him want to cum right on the spot, but he can’t waste it. He’s spent years pining after you, missing you, and he wants you to feel like the time apart had been worth it. 

“I missed you.” This time it’s him who makes the admittance. You tighten up at this confession, and it evokes a low groan from him, almost as if you had forced the sound to come from all the way down his throat.

“I know.” You gasp out, not able to speak clearly with how deep Suguru is hitting. Your living room is filled with the wet clicks and slaps of skin against skin, your juices coating his cock every time he pulls out. 

The vein on the underside of his cock rubs against your walls, and the slight curve of it enables him to hit that gummy spot inside of you that has you seeing stars. You’ve never given much thought to cocks, but you know that Suguru’s is the prettiest of them all. 

“Tell me you’re mine.” He grunts out, lips brushing against the soft skin of your neck before biting down; gentle enough not to draw blood, sharp enough to still leave a mark. You rock against him, hips moving in tandem with his thrusts, the steady hum of pleasure continuously building up in your lower belly. You are dizzy with pleasure; blanketed in it, being spoon fed it. 

He doesn’t need you to say it to know it’s true, but you moan it out anyway, both to appease him and because there’s a sort of pride in knowing that you belong to him. 

“I’m yours. I belong to you.” The words are separated, punctuated, by the little gasps for air you give out because with every word, he thrusts up even harder, hitting that special spot that will have you cumming all over him, making a mess. 

“Yeah?” It comes out sounding like a shaky breath, and he’s close, you know it, you can feel it. 

Calloused pads belonging to fingers much larger than yours are being pressed against your clit. You’re soaked, and the dryness of his hands combining with your overall slickness gives way to delicious friction that has you cumming with his name as a broken moan filtering through your swollen lips. 

“That’s it, baby. Good girl. Good fucking girl.” He mutters, relishing in the way your walls tighten, spasm, clenching and unclenching sporadically as your body loses its energy and you press yourself up against his chest.

He follows after just a few more sloppy thrusts, the last one forcing himself as deep inside of you as possible. His cum is hot and thick, and it’s filling you to the brim. If he pulls out now, it’ll flood out of you, and the thought is both sad and hot at the same time. You want his cum inside of you, to serve as a reminder that this is real, that he’s real. 

But seeing the physicality of him staking his claim, white seed dripping out of you, turns you on. Him, too, with the look of fascination and boyish wonder he has in his eyes as he stares at how the two of you are connected.

Before he can bother with confirming a round two, a sharp knock on the door has the two of you comically jumping a bit in surprise, both of you glancing at the door and then at each other.

“[Name], I know you’re in there!” You freeze. 

Satoru. 

Suguru wants to try to calm you down, whisper to you that everything’s going to be fine, but the anger laced in his best friend’s — former best friend’s — voice is enough to make him freeze up, too. Not just his icy tone, but what he says.

“I know you’re back, too, Suguru.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I have saw someone say something like this a while ago, but imagine the frustration if you were born as a girl in Saga Island with big magic power and talent, but you can't enroll in either of the top two magic schools on your island because they are all boys 😔. Like at this rate, she can just take Mulan's route and cross-dress for a chance at the big two. 🙃

I don’t know how RSA decides who is invited to their school or not, but if they use a methodology similar to NRC… It sounds like the Mirror of Darkness decides the students. I don’t think simply crossdressing would be enough to fool a magical artifact. Maybe it would be feasible if they had a male relative that was invited to enroll, but in this situation, taking the enrollment letter and impersonating them may not be as noble as Mulan’s actions for her father 💦 It’s technically stealing a big opportunity away from someone else for personal gain. Girl boss, sure. Morally correct? No. (And hey, maybe that ironically does make them prideful and enough to “fit in” with the NRC population www)

I think there must be some big-name all-girls or co-ed magic schools in Twisted Wonderland. We just spend most of our time trapped on Sage’s Island and hearing about the rivalry between its two most prominent arcane academies. The other schools that are mentioned (such as Noble Bell College) appear to be all-male too, but I think think that’s less of an “all magic schools are for boys ONLY” thing and more of a “this is a joseimuke game so we’re going to make most major characters male to appeal to the mostly female audience” thing. There must be female/co-ed magic schools, otherwise how would some of the boys’ mothers and grandmothers be as proficient as they are at magic?? Like, Mrs. Rosehearts is a medical mage which I imagine must take a ton of formal education. There is only so far teaching oneself can go; there has to be larger institutions dedicated to teaching women about sorcery too.

I get the convenience of wanting to enroll at a school close to home, especially since NRC and RSA are both excellent learning establishments. However, I’m wondering if the tradeoff is really worth it?? Both are boarding schools, and they can’t exactly leave campus whenever they want to go home (I believe they need a teacher’s permission, which could be tedious to get). It’s basically the same as going to a magic school abroad, assuming those schools also have fast mirror travel if you ever wanted to visit home.

There is also absolutely no way a crossdressing girl wouldn’t be found out eventually. They’d just be making too many excuses to change separately during PE sessions or maybe the students with heightened senses (for example, beastmen) might smell a difference in them (especially during “that time of month” if they ovulate), etc. Then it would be awkward for everyone and they’d for sure face expulsion (which I guess mirrors when Mulan was found out and discharged from the military). I unfortunately don’t see many NRC students or even staff standing up for their peer/student or trying to make a case why they alone should stay as an exception to the institution.

[snailmail444]

Bachelor Head Cannons

18+ 🌱 NSFW 🌱 MDNI

Head cannons for all the bachelors masturbation habits under the cut! Send me asks if you want to see more head cannons from me 💞

Harvey-

💚 Harvey spends so much time antsy and anxious, poor guy.

💚 So when he’s getting himself off he needs a gentle touch. Literally and figuratively.

💚 He has a few favorite videos he likes of porn, which he goes back to when he’s getting off.

💚 Professional porn takes him out of it. He’s so worried about if everything is consensual and comfortable and compensated he’s not horny anymore. Even when he can get past that, he just isn’t into the fake porn premises.

💚 Do you really expect him to believe she’s stuck in that washing machine? Get real.

💚 Harvey can really get into it when it’s amateur, and the couple seems like they’re genuinely enjoying each other. Giggling, bumping the camera, whispered “I love you’s.”

💚 Uses a lot of quality lube. As a doctor, he’s going to take proper care of his body. Especially his dick. The last thing he wants is a friction burn on his junk.

💚 Goes nice and slow. He doesn’t want to rush himself when he’s working to relax, so it’s not a race for him.

💚 Eyes fluttering, cheeks flushed, hitching breath when he’s close.

💚 Can only get off when the people in the video have. Cums with a sigh, leaning back in complete satisfaction.

💚 Takes a long shower after and gets excellent rest. It really helps alleviate his stress, so he sleeps like a baby.

Elliott-

❤️ When I tell You this man makes it an EVENT!

❤️ He’s breaking out the candles. He’s got a bubble bath run. He’s got a glass of red wine.

❤️ Elliott is first and foremost a man of luxury. So when it comes to taking care of himself? He is taking CARE of himself.

❤️ We’re talking a long edging session that starts in the tub and ends in his bed. He’s so coy that he even teases himself. Gets him worked UP!

❤️ This is an erotic novel kinda guy if there ever was one. I mean come on. You KNOW he’s reading those flowing sex scenes with flowery language to get off to.

❤️ One hand holding his dick the other holding his book.

❤️ It doesn’t matter if he’s alone, he is talking. Elliott is a wellspring of words, so they’re flowing. Praise and curses and sweet names, all of it. He gets so wrapped up in the fantasy that it feels real to him, and that’s his way to engage with it.

❤️ He’s a romantic, but the stuff that really gets him off is hot and desperate and needy. The love interests of his novel devouring each other after a slow burn or a long break. The passion is where it’s at for him.

❤️ Secretly kinda loves it filthy. Chaste and loving is good and satisfying, but it doesn’t do a ton for him sexually. He wants his sex sloppy, spitty, and utterly human.

❤️ Probably gets off the least out of all the bachelors simply because it’s a whole process for him. He wants to enjoy it with unabashed hedonism.

❤️ Sometimes he’ll eat fruit while he’s doing it just to engage all his senses.

Alex-

🤎 Alex would absolutely be a morning jerker if Evelyn and George weren’t up at the crack of dawn.

🤎 Man wakes up rock hard and would love to do something about it, but since Evelyn knocks on his door for breakfast at a routine seven am, he has to will it away.

🤎 The tradeoff, though, makes it worth the wait. Both of his lovely grandparents are hard of hearing, go to bed early, and George has a loud CPAP machine.

🤎 So when I tell you Alex can be as loud as he wants at night. He can be as loud as he wants. Unless you’re physically shaking his grandparents, they’re sleeping through it.

🤎 Which is a good thing, because Alex is a mouthy guy. Moans, groans, curses, whines, whimpers, you name it. If he has a hand on his dick, he’s making noise.

🤎 It’s a little old fashioned, but Alex has sexy magazines stashed between his mattress and box spring. Video porn is overwhelming to him—he doesn’t know what to search, he just wants some eye candy—so this is the best option he can think of.

🤎 He’s not very fussy, honestly. Low maintenance kinda jerker. As long as he’s looking at somebody he finds attractive, he’s gonna get off.

🤎 And Alex is such a secret romantic, he’s thinking about sweet, tender sex with somebody he would love a whole lot. His hand takes the same rhythm he imagines he’d use fucking slow and deep.

🤎 This is the way that Alex ends. Not with a bang, but a whimper. Man is whining as he strokes himself through his orgasm.

🤎 Has a few tissues he uses to clean up and then passes directly out. Rinse and repeat three times/week.

Shane-

💙 Okay it depends.

💙 If he’s still drinking he doesn’t jerk off that much because he’s got chronic whiskey dick.

💙 BUT. After that? Oh boy.

💙 Shane’s surprised by his own libido when he’s sober. It’s, like, all the time. He thinks maybe it’s because he didn’t get off for so long that he’s making up for lost time.

💙 He gets a surprising amount of privacy in the old ranch house, which he has never been more thankful for. It doesn’t hurt that Marnie snore pretty loud and Jas sleeps like the dead, so most of the night is free to him.

💙 However. Some nights it’s just not feasible. Cough, cough, thanks Lewis.

💙 Luckily, Shane’s got his secret spot. The dock never gets any foot traffic, literally ever. He absolutely will go out there to take care of himself if he needs to.

💙 Big lotion guy. He needs it especially because his hands are rough from all the work he does with them. The callouses feel good if he’s got enough lubricant, though.

💙 Can go either way on porn. Sometimes he likes to watch a good video of what he’s in the mood for, but he doesn’t need it.

💙 He gets off more on memories than anything else. Some of his best fucks are vivid enough in his mind he almost feels like he’s back there when he gets off on it.

💙 And if he has a crush on somebody? Man doesn’t need much. Getting off thinking about how they looked on their knees the other day, about how his cum would look on their face. In the moment he has no shame in thinking about the object of his affections. That’ll come later.

💙 Bites his wrist to keep himself quiet. Not because anybody can hear him, but because he gets embarrassed about the noises he makes and how into it he gets.

💙 Gets desperate for release towards the end. Bucking his hips up and fucking his fist until he cums over his tense stomach. His face is complete bliss, and typically he forgets to muffle that last moan anymore because he’s too caught up in his pleasure.

💙 Post nut clarity hits him a little too hard sometimes. He feels a lot of guilt and shame he’s still working through. Therapy’s helping, though.

Sam-

🩷 Poor Sammy never gets any proper alone time. It’s not the easiest for him to just get off whenever the urge comes on him.

🩷 Which is incredibly unfortunate, because the urge comes on him…often, to say the least.

🩷 Let’s be real. It’s probably once a day, sometimes twice. Man’s sex drive is insane. Truly just insatiable.

🩷 But the walls of his house are paper thin, he has no lock on his door, and his mom and Vincent are always busting in. He only gets a shred of privacy in his shower, and even that’s difficult because he shares with Vincent. Hard to get off when his tiny fists are constantly pounding on the door.

🩷 So Sam can’t just jack it at a moments notice. He has to wait until everybody is asleep, because blessedly Jodi and Vince go to bed early, and Kent is usually in bed by ten pm sharp. Thank God for that military sense of routine.

🩷 As soon as it’s lights out, Sam’s got an earbud in and a hand in his boxers. He’s so desperate and needy by the end of the day that he has to bite his shirt to keep from moaning with relief.

🩷 Man adores porn. LOVES. Porn. He needs a visual aid for his fantasies, and some good audio doesn’t hurt his feelings.

🩷 Sweet Sam has a possessive streak. He tries to find videos where one of the people looks like whoever he’s into at the time, and he imagines it’s him fucking them.

🩷 And if the video has a good cumshot? He’s gone. Fucking wasted. His hand will slide feverishly up and down his cock until he’s cumming right along with them, the whole time imagining it’s him marking up his crush and making them his.

🩷 By the grace of Yoba he hasn’t been caught yet, but he’s always rushing because he’s paranoid somebody will find him with a hand around his dick or cum all over his abdomen.

Sebastian-

🖤 Unlike Sam, he has almost complete privacy the majority of the time.

🖤 Robin spared no expense on soundproofing their house, so nobody can hear anything unless they’re pressed up against his door.

🖤 And since nobody bothers him, and he’s got a sturdy lock, it’s never a problem. He can get off really whenever he wants to.

🖤 When he was in high school, it was all the time. If he had a second alone, he was probably jerking off.

🖤 Now though, it’s tapered off. He only has to get off once a week, maybe a few times if he’s really worked up about something.

🖤 And with his computer setup? He has a full Cinematic experience. Full screen, over-ear headphones, reclined back in his gamer chair. His dick pulled out of his boxers and his shirt rucked up to his chest. Sebastian is taking complete advantage of every luxury he has available to him.

🖤 Let’s be real. He’s an Only Fans kinda guy. Sebastian has specific tastes, and he likes the convenience of having content he likes ready and available. Plus, he’s not about to risk any viruses on his computer.

🖤 It doesn’t hurt that it’s more ethical that way. Sex work is real work, and deserves proper compensation, which he’s more than happy to give.

🖤 As for the content? We circle back to his specific tastes. He likes soft BDSM. No intense stuff, but the dirty talk aspect especially does it for him. Spanking or light choking are about as hardcore as he likes.

🖤 But the thing that’s guaranteed to get him off? Oral. Every single time. He loves to go down on people—he’s borderline obsessed with it, actually. It’s something he can’t personally put his finger on (it’s called an oral fixation buddy), but he cums so hard thinking about leaving purpling hickies along thighs and using his tongue to get his partner off.

🖤 And since he prioritizes heavily on having a clean space, he has everything ready to clean himself up. Especially important since he cums a lot.

[halfnekoslair]

My dolls)

Photo by ig @gray_valet

Hi guys) The package with the previous mouse group order arrived in the US. The rest does not depend on me. So I'm making a post to show everything I can offer. Shipping from Russia is quite expensive, starts from about 70 USD for EMS, which I usually use. So it makes more sense for foreigners if someone organizes a group order to share the shipping cost. This has already been done twice. And I believe there is a discord group about this. But I will give you approximate numbers: This is about 70 USD for up to 1 kilogram 90 USD for up to 2 kilograms and about 105 USD for up to 3 kilograms.

This post is going to be huge so I'll put the prices on top:

15cm mouse. 73 usd for standard colour. +7 usd for extra colour.

25cm turtle. 230 usd.

28 cm 1/6 boy doll. 110 usd for Eirwyn 120 for character heads cause of their hair/ear parts.

MSD Eirwyn. 180 usd.

Speaking of group orders I would prefer not to go above 1000 USD in one box because I don't trust US Customs one bit. And if something bad is destined to happen - I would prefer it not to be a terribly large amount of money.

I can change the prices over time. I most likely will. I'm just groping for a while. The difference in price is more due to the amount of manual work I have to put into the doll than to the size. Turtles are far and away the most complex. And human dolls are less time-consuming. If I make a few and feel that it is more difficult or easier than I thought - I will change the prices. As you can see, so far I have only sold mice.

So what do I offer?

I'm obviously offering mice.

This is around life size mouse doll. Almost 15 cm standing tall and including ears.

I use ABS-like photopolymer resin for these dolls. Because it is easier to work with and looks more polyurethane-like. Mice have a lot of small delicate parts that would be harder to make look good with a harder resin. So it's a tradeoff. I prefer aesthetics over durability. I am not saying that ABS-like resin is too brittle. Many people use this type of resin for dolls. Especially small ones. I am just explaining why I use different types of resin for different dolls. I might consider printing a mouse with the tough resin I use for my larger dolls but that would cost more because it would take more time to post-process.

The colors "from the can" are gray and white. I can also print beige and chocolate at any time. Because these are the most basic colors and I can cut the leftovers. (Beige and chocolate may differ slightly from time to time because I due them myself. White and gray are constant.)

I can mix any color (green, purple). But there must be 2 or more mice of this color in the order. Otherwise it will be counted as an extra color because I will have a lot of leftovers that I will not be able to use.

There is also an option to add pink paws or tail or both. If the doll has 2 colors in it, it is counted as an extra color.

2. Turtles.

Photo by ig @gray_valet

Yes, I finally decided to try and start selling them.

They are 1/6 size. About 25 cm. A little shorter than Barbie. But wide and heavy.

There are 4 sculpts. Each of which has an individual head and some differences in the body.

Officially I name the sculpts by numbers, not by character names. but I think the characters are pretty obvious.

So #1 (Leo)) He's my princess >W< Lol. Sorry. This sculpt is quite beefy. But has the most delicate face and front shell of them all for my taste.

№2 (Raph)

This one the widest and most monstrous of them all. He was actually designed to be a little shorter than the first one, but he refused and ended up the same height.

№3 (Don) He is a little taller and thinner than the others. I tried to make him more human in proportions and face.

№4 (Mike) He's the baby of the group. I still wonder if I made him too small. But I like him as is.

Each of them has 3 faces on magnets. Neutral, angry and happy.

For turtle dolls I use a tough resin. Because they are actually big, even though they are short. And they have quite a strong elastic tension. It's a little less pretty than the ABS-like. But it's really tough. I have a video of me throwing it on the pavement.

Turtles have 3 colors. For the skin, plastron and shell. You can send me a picture and I will try to dye the resin as close as I can.

I will add 2 pairs of the chosen color eyes and 1 pair of white to the doll.

I can also print basic katanas and sais in a size suitable for the doll. In a random color.

3. 1/6 youth doll.

This body is about 28cm and is sculpted to represent a teenage boy in a Barbie-proportioned world.

This can go with my original Eirwin head and resin hair

Or an anime head with a hairstyle representing a character from the Genshin Impact game.

(Keep in mind that 1/6 of the sculpts has sculpted eyelashes) At the moment I have

Tighnari with magnetic ears (It's my friend's doll)))

and Cyno

Lol I even made his hair articulated.

I also tried to put a Barbie head on this body and it wasn't terrible)

I print these dolls with tough resin as well. Even though they are small they aren't very detailed so it's just nice to have a little more durability.

I can try to dye the color you want. But I can't promise 100% accuracy because one is the pictures on the screen and the other is the resin and pigments. And also I do not recommend dark skin colors. because this resin is very thick and it can reject the pigment while printing. With dark colors it can lead to a slight difference of the color between parts in one doll.

And last but not least...

4. MSD Eirwyn.

The MSD version of this sculpt has some differences from the 1/6 version. It has a wider neck, smaller eyes, and no sculpted eyelashes.

Eirvin is 45cm tall and is adjusted to fit into my company MSD doll group. (Photos with Dollzone and Resinsoul)

10mm eyes, 55mm feet. The only non-standard part of him is his butt. It's quite wide for a MSD) But I like the silhouette.

I print my dolls with full infill so it weighs the same as the cast doll.

Obviously I'm printing such a big doll with tough resin. And with such a size of parts I'm mostly calm for this doll. My cat has already given it a couple of test falls from the table.

For color - I also do not recommend dark here. For large parts and almost 10 hours of printing it can give a big difference in color.

I don't mind answering questions and taking additional photos if needed.

Congratulations) You survived my longest post.

[tokiro07]

Undead Unluck ch.239 thoughts

[The Greatest Ending Ever]

(Topics: thematic analysis - joy, character analysis - Andy/Fuuko/Union, narrative analysis - narrative utility, speculation - epilogue, appreciation)

Congratulations to everyone reading this review!

You did it! You pushed through all of the hard times in your life, everything that made you wish you weren't around, and lasted long enough to see the conclusion of one of the best stories ever told!

I'm so proud of you, and I hope to see you at the end of the next great story as well!

I rewrote this intro half a dozen times, trying desperately to find the right tone to set. I tried being somber, but that felt depressing. I tried being goofy, but that felt disrespectful. I tried being straightforward, but that felt detached

In the end, there was only one way that was ever going to feel right: I had to match the tone of the finale itself. I don't want to end this series feeling like we're at a funeral or in a lecture hall, I want to end it the same way Tozuka did: feeling like we're at a party!!!

Celebrate Good Times, C'mon!

This chapter is a celebration of the series, a wrap-party for the cast and setting, a curtain call to give the audience one last hurrah with everything we loved so much about the series!

We get a little "where-are-they-now" for all of the Negators, with everyone living out their dreams or putting their pasts behind them. Some of them are living large as professional athletes or business owners, some of them are more humble and bringing up the next generation, but everyone is clearly enjoying their life!

Seeing everyone living normally and happily, whether they're already successful or working their way up, is so rewarding. It's certainly a deheightening from the excitement of being superhumans and immortals, but knowing that people I love are no longer suffering and have become comfortable with themselves and their lives makes the tradeoff from being "cool" to "mundane" more than worth it

Besides, our main couple's lives are still anything but what I'd call mundane

Be the Change You Want to See

Andy and Fuuko's new lives create such perfect foils to where they started their respective stories

Where Fuuko started her story alone and locked away in isolation, dreaming of seeing the world, now she explores it without reservation with a lifelong friend by her side. She can go where she wants, she can wear what she wants, and she can touch who she wants

Andy, meanwhile, has always been traveling, but where before he did so aimlessly and alone, now he does so with purpose as part of a team (named Wind, after the "Fuu" in Fuuko). Instead of hoping to stumble upon his own end, he now seeks to create a better world, protecting people from injustices and giving them the means to improve their lives. No longer ignoring the needs of others for his own death, he now uses his life to provide others those very needs

Both now actively want to live their lives, and now, though currently apart from each other, are surrounded by people who love them, and are thematically the most important people they could be with. Fuuko travels with Gina, Fuuko's best friend standing as representation of the bonds forged along the way, while Andy travels with Rip and Nico, two of his greatest rivals representing the internal conflicts that have been resolved along the way

While other characters definitely got similar attention from the narrative, like Julia, Shen, Chikara, Feng and Sean, this group in particular really feels like the true core team. They were the most consistently present in the narrative, and even ended up being the ones focused on when removing The Heart from Fuuko (though Latla had to stand in for Rip for medical reasons), so I think it's safe to say this is how Tozuka views them at the very least

Of course, just because they're all so tight-knit doesn't mean that they can't misjudge each other at times. Their respective teams were aware of the upcoming wedding, and had faith that the newlyweds-to-be factored that into their planned tours, only to realize...

Both of them forgot

What a Shame the Poor Groom's Bride is Stupid

Fortunately, they know each other well enough that they know they aren't the only one to make that mistake, and decide to make a game out of it: whoever gets to the altar first gets to lord it over the other for the rest of their life!

This is a great moment of characterization for both of them, as not only are they comfortable enough with each other to spend so much time apart without worry, they also have absolute faith that the other, for all their faults, loves them with all their heart. Because they both messed up, neither of them can be called "the irresponsible one," while still allowing them both to be the same goofy and endearingly stupid couple they've always been

The fact that both of them make it to the altar at the exact same time, in the same spectacular fashion, establishes them as on perfectly equal footing in the relationship (despite the fact that they were both trying to make a powerplay out of their mutual screwup)

I can see how some people might dislike the choice to have them both forget the wedding, though. Where to me it reads as comfort and faith in each other, others may read it as flippant disregard for an extremely important moment in their lives together and for the sheer amount of time that they're wasting for their friends. Some folks have even suggested that this means they're going to be bad parents, which...is possible, but I just can't get behind that thought. I think they'll be odd parents, but not absentees a la Naruto or Yoh

No, I don't think this ridiculous turn of events was meant to establish that they'll be a forgetful couple or anything negative like that, I think it was yet another masterful example of Tozuka's greatest skill as a writer: narrative utility

4D Chessmaster

First of all, the panel where they realize they both forgot the wedding is, without exaggeration, the funniest panel in the whole manga to me. It's great comedy while also injecting highly personal if low-threat stakes into the final chapter

Secondly, it presented an opportunity to work Billy and Tatiana in as active members of this final story without simply having them mingle in the crowd at the wedding itself. Having the two of them specifically fill the same roles in parallel lets them act as a duo (even when separated, like Andy and Fuuko) while also reinforcing the visual of Fuuko being surrounded by her best friends and Andy reconciling with his greatest enemies

Finally, it facilitated the most important straggler making an appearance at the wedding. No, not Sean or Feng being late, they could easily have just been written to be on time in the first place, someone more thematically important and absolutely vital to painting an iconic vignette to end the series on:

Luna

The full moon is, without doubt, the most important recurring visual motif in the series, so there was absolutely no way that Tozuka was going to let Andy and Fuuko get married without it adorning the sky

It would have been easy to just write their wedding happening at night, but again, we needed to get a glimpse at everyone's lives and some much-needed levity after the rollercoaster of the final Ragnarok. Setting the wedding during the day, under the Sun that oppressed humanity for eons, only to have their ridiculous antics and disregard for tradition stall long enough for the Moon that gave them the means to fight that oppression to come out creates a wonderful microcosm for the series as a whole

The visual of Andy and Fuuko riding off into the moonlight, now surrounded by stars rather than alone in an empty, rather than the more traditional sunset is a symbol of their liberation, their freedom to live their lives as they please for as long as they please with whomever they please

It also serves to fulfill Luna's ultimate goal: to see the value of the Rules that was previously unknown to her. Yes, the Union showed her the power of love when overcoming Sun, but that wasn't the end, it was just the beginning. That moment is what paved the way for the Negators and all of humanity to make of the world and its Rules what they need to live The Greatest Life Ever

This is also why I'm happy to admit that, appropriately as usual, I was wrong in my prediction: Undead Unluck did not, in fact, end with Andy's death

Life After Love

I've said since chapter 1 that the point of Undead Unluck was to teach Andy that life was worth living, and that The Greatest Death Ever would be one that follows a life well-lived. I always figured that we would get to actually see the literal death, but looking at it now, I think that this was the better choice as a final note to leave the series on

As I said in the intro, this chapter is a celebration, not a funeral. In much the same way that Oda has difficulty killing characters in One Piece because it would put a damper on the party that follows a huge battle, Tozuka may have wanted to avoid a bittersweet ending because it would be harder to push the theme of enjoying life while in mourning

Not that it would have been impossible, and it certainly would have been impactful to force us as the audience to wrestle with that dichotomy, but a complex ending is not necessarily the best ending. We aren't stupid, we can infer that Andy and Fuuko will one day die, and that when they do, all of the people they love will still be a part of their lives to see them off and remember them

But knowing that they'll die is completely different from seeing them die. Showing us the death in person would be asking us to grieve, to accept, and to move on, but the acceptance of death has never been one of Undead Unluck's core themes, at least not directly. Instead, accepting death was more of a subtheme to the greater theme of embracing life, and that is what the final page is really asking us to do

This is the story of Andy, Fuuko Izumo, and everyone living in this world, and their quest for The Greatest Death Ever

We aren't shown The Greatest Death Ever because that death isn't actually for Andy and Fuuko: it's for us

It's for us to interpret what that death would entail, for us to enjoy our lives, and for us to complete the quest

Andy and Fuuko gave us an example, but they didn't tell us what to do. They didn't give us a cheat code, there's no way to speedrun it, we just have to take the long way and have fun figuring out how to play the game all the while. At best, Tozuka (and Akira, in-series) gave us a strategy guide to get us started, but much like the Union didn't change the Rules of the world and instead wants to empower people to better themselves, only we can decide what Our Greatest Life and Death will be

Of course, this is all assuming that this is actually the final note Tozuka is leaving us on

What Comes Next

It just wouldn't be a 4Y1A Review without some speculation, now would it?

For the last several months, I've been saying that UU would end on ch.241 in order to give the final volume the usual nine chapters (which would also have given it the 5-year anniversary Jump cover, but whatever...), but ending on ch.239 means that there would be a bit less content than usual

It's not unheard of for a final volume to be a little shorter than usual, but it's also very common for final volumes to include one or both of two options: a bonus chapter and the pilot chapter

Given that Undead + Unluck is an actual plot point, there is a very good chance that it'll be included in the final volume, and I would definitely be excited to see an official translation of it. Moreso than that, though, I'd really like just one more chapter to tie up some loose ends

The way I see it, there are three possible routes for a bonus chapter to go:

Andy's death

Ruin and Soul's life in the final world

A full exploration of Sun and Luna's backstory

The first, as I said, would likely be bittersweet, but would at least fulfill the narrative promise of Andy's dream while also giving us a nice opportunity for a little bit more AnFuu content. A lot of folks were upset that we didn't see Andy and Fuuko kiss at their wedding, and there wasn't even any discussion about how Fuuko can touch people without fear anymore, so an epilogue detailing their later years and their family life would be welcomed

On the other hand, covering Ruin and Soul would give us a look into how well the world is living up to Fuuko's vision and would give Ruin his much-needed capstone since he didn't get one during Ragnarok. How is he holding up without Blood and Shadow? What does his happiness look like? What kind of relationship does he have with Soul? I would hate to think that these two are the only ones Tozuka doesn't care to give a happy ending to

Finally, the least likely but possibly the most interesting, getting more details on Sun and Luna would just be a fun way to revisit Tozuka's world-building one last time. The world that they come from is the biggest remaining mystery, and I still don't fully understand what Luna's real goal actually was, so I think getting a little more perspective on it would be helpful, even if it still ends up being somewhat vague

However, Tozuka might want to leave it vague. It doesn't matter to the cast, it doesn't inform anything about their lives, so why does it matter that there's a greater cosmology that they'll never interact with? Furthermore, leaving a dangling thread like that means that we still have something to wonder about, a little knot for the curious to spend the next few years trying to untangle in our minds just for fun. Tying up every single detail in a neat little bow is satisfying, but satisfaction doesn't leave any room to play around in the space, so that may have been Tozuka's last little gift to us for the sake of enrichment

Volume 27 won't be out until April it looks like, so we'll have to wait a bit longer to know for sure what route Tozuka will take if he does any of these at all. Heck, theoretically he could do all three if he has 50 pages to work with, but I'm definitely not putting my money on that horse (bluffing specifically so I'll be wrong)

There is one thing I do know for sure though: this is not my last review for Undead Unluck!

Not only do we have the Winter Special coming up (eventually...), we also will be receiving a third light novel! I'm absolutely going to review both of those when the time comes, so whether or not we get an epilogue chapter, you will be hearing from me again!

Until then, it has been an incredible honor to have you all read these reviews, respond to them, riff on them, and most importantly, enjoy them. This has been one of the best fandom experiences I've ever had, and that's thanks to all of you

Thank you all for making my favorite manga something bigger than I ever dreamed it would become

Thank you all for reading my work and giving me reason to dive deeper than I might have all alone

Thank you all for being my friends

Now

Let's enjoy life

[lucysgraybird]

part 2 of modern!uni!coriolanus x fem!reader. part 1 here, part 3 here. as promised, reader's a lil cuckoo which i hope yall are into because it's here to stay. on this, if anyone feels like offering thoughts -- would longer updates be preferable, or does it make no difference? the only tradeoff would be that they'd come out less frequently (once a week vs every 2-3 days). warnings: blood mention, minor suggestive material. this is not a healthy relationship but BOY is it fun

Coriolanus Snow, as it turns out, is wonderful to date, at least for you. You've been back from the winter holiday for a month, and though you've yet to make anything official with him, things are going very well. He doesn't text constantly, but there will always be a good morning text when you get back from the gym, and a good night text when you check your phone after hours at the library. He makes it clear that you're together when you're out with an arm around your waist or a hand over yours on the table, or with the faint bruises that trail across your collarbone and down your shirt. That's your favourite mark of your relationship: it's illicit, obvious. You know it makes other people a little uncomfortable, and you like that they can't seem to look away. 

He's also fascinating. Orphaned when he was quite young and raised by his grandmother and cousin, you've learned that while he obviously has money now, he didn't always. He had a stint in the military to pay for school, and got a job for his best friend’s father as a thank-you for saving the boy’s life in battle. Apparently the friend had been court-martialed for something – Coriolanus wouldn't go into detail – and now they weren't as close. He now makes more money than most people would dream of twenty years out of school, and though it means he's almost always busy, you like that he's so dedicated. 

Right now, you're bent over a sheet of stats equations at a table on the quad when Coriolanus sneaks up behind you. He drops a kiss on your head and settles in an open seat at your table.

“Hello,” you say, setting down your pen. 

“Don't let me distract you,” he replies, pulling a book out of his bag. “I'll wait until you're done to talk.”

This is another thing you appreciate about Coriolanus. Besides that first date, he understands how much you value school and your grades – he actually seems to like it – and never expects to come first. You blow through the last few problems, check your work, and clip the paper neatly into your binder.

Coriolanus looks up from his book. “Finished?”

“Mhm.”

“Good,” he says. “How's that class going, by the way?”

You keep apprised of each other’s academic performances – you're both shooting to graduate valedictorian next year, so you've got a little bit of competition going. As far as you can tell, it only serves to push both of you further, as winning seems more of a reward if there's been a real challenge for it. This being said, he knows that your statistics class is giving you a little bit of trouble, just like you know that his Victorian literature class is driving him up the wall. You're going to win, but you'll let him hope.

“Not as badly as you might hope,” you tease. “I'm on track for a decent A. How goes the adventures in Victorian lit?”

He lifts his book miserably, revealing the cover of Middlemarch. You wince.

“Rough. Don't make winning too easy on me, though.”

“Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart.”

You smile at the pet name, however targeted it is. “So did you come to make fun of my homework, or did you have something you wanted to talk about?”

“Right, yes. We've been going out for a little over a month now.”

“This is true.”

“And I think it's time we make some decisions. I'm not looking for something casual. Between school and studying for the LSAT and work, I don't really have the time to devote to something that's definitely not going anywhere.”

“I hope you're not proposing, Coriolanus.”

“Not at all. But I am asking if you would like to be my girlfriend, officially.”

“Oh! Yes.”

“Yes?” He seems surprised. 

“I'm not particularly interested in anything casual either,” you say. “I’ve tried it and it doesn't work. I just get jealous.”

“I wouldn't have pegged you for the jealous type.”

“You haven't given me any reason to be. Believe me, if I'm jealous, I'll make sure you know.”

You regret saying that the minute you do – not because it's not true, but because it could be a little off-putting. But it seems to have the opposite effect for Coriolanus, who bares his teeth in a smile. The wider his smile gets, the more he looks like a wolf, the more you feel like he is waiting for the perfect moment to sink his teeth into your neck. Perhaps it should scare you, but it doesn't. It thrills you. It makes you want to tilt your head back and let him take hold, because you want to see your blood on his teeth and trickling down his chin, staining the starched white of his collar. You want to ruin this boy, which you would feel worse about thinking if you didn't get the sense that he wants to destroy you, too.  

“I hope you would,” he says, lifting you from your reverie. “As long as it's okay that it goes both ways.”

“Of course.” Perfect.

“Are you free tonight?” 

“I have a class that ends at 6, but after that, yes.”

“Would you like to meet my family? You'll love my cousin, and my grandmother…well. She doesn't like anyone, but she's interesting.”

“That sounds lovely,” you say, a thrill flooding you at going from occasional dates and make-out sessions to meeting his family in the course of an afternoon.

“Fine, then. I'll pick you up at 7.”

–

The Snow apartment is incredible. There's a sterility to its modernity that should be disquieting but isn't: you can't imagine Coriolanus growing up anywhere else. You're sitting with his cousin, Tigris, while he disappears to make drinks. The fabled grandmother was apparently refusing to make an appearance. Tigris seems anxious, fiddling with her floral skirt.

“So you're dating Coriolanus?” She asks finally. Your brows knit together – is she daft? Coriolanus introduced you as his girlfriend. 

“Mhm. We've been going out for a little over a month.”

“Oh.”

When she doesn't say anything else, you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“Coriolanus tells me you basically raised him,” you say, wanting to fill the silence.

Tigris nods. “He was such a kind little boy. I worry I didn't do enough sometimes, you know?”

What a weird thing to say. “I'm sure you did your best. I can't imagine it's easy bringing someone else up when you're a kid yourself. And he's turned out well, from what I can tell.”

“He can just be…intense. I'm sorry, I know this is strange, I just want you to know what you're getting into.”

You laugh lightly. “Maybe I need to find someone to give him this speech about me. I'll be okay, Tigris. I can be a lot too; I think we'll be good for each other.”

Coriolanus returns just at that moment.

“I think we'll be good for each other too,” he says, handing you and Tigris each a glass of red wine. “I hope my cousin hasn't been telling you too many embarrassing baby stories.” 

Something passes over Tigris’ face – grief, maybe, or fear – before she settles into a demure smile. 

“Not at all, Coriolanus. Your girlfriend is so sweet.”

He sits next to you and puts his free hand on your knee. “She's perfect, isn't she? I knew you guys would get along.”

Tigris gives him a tight smile, then lets her eyes go unfocused into space. 

–

The rest of the night passes with much of the same uncomfortable conversation, until Coriolanus finally decides that it'd be best if he drove you home before it got too late. It's the first time you've seen him drive, and you just enjoy the way the streetlights cast shadows on the angles of his face and the way his hand sits hot and heavy on your thigh.

“I'm sorry if Tigris said anything strange to you,” he says finally. “She's been odd ever since I got back from being deployed.”

“She was fine. I think she was worried you'd be too much for me.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw. “She doesn't approve of my job. Or my ‘work-life balance’, as she calls it.”

“Sounds like she cares about you.” It's hard to say more, because you don't really know what he does for work. Something with national security or defense tech, but beyond that, you're in the dark. It also seems like there was more to the way Tigris was acting than just complaints about Coriolanus working too hard, but it's not your place to pry. Nor do you really care.

“No, you're right. She does. I just wish she'd keep her opinions to herself.”

“That’s fair. I'm still glad I got to meet her.”

“I am too. And I'm always glad to spend time with you.”

To say that, he takes his eyes off the road for a moment and gives you a sweet, close-lipped smile. You return it and place your hand over his on your thigh. His fingers dig in a little too hard, and you curl your nails like claws into his skin in reply. He pulls the car into a parking space in front of your apartment.

“Here you are.”

You turn to him and take in the way he's looking at you, the way his eyes have gone murky in the dark of the night and trail across the scooping neckline of your top. The skin on your neck is pristine again, and you need him to fix that.

“Would you like to come upstairs?”

“I was hoping you'd say that.”

[lilac-5ky]

Roommates from Hell, pt.3 (Toji x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 3: Eat ✓ Pray ✕ Love ?

Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist | Requests

A/N: TOJI POV TOJI POV TOJI POV last chapter dedicated to the same day, I promise!

Warning: Sexual imagery and slight angst.

If Toji knew that the tradeoff for forfeiting his hold on you involved wearing an apron three sizes too small and one shade too pink, he could and certainly would have refused.

But Toji was never good at placing bets, let alone winning them, and when you handed him a bouquet of bushy carrots demanding they be diced-not sliced, he found himself wielding a knife of a different kind than the ones he’d been used to carrying.

Carrot peels, he came to realize, cling to fingers with more persistence than blood. His frequent visitations to the sink were timed with fleeting glances at the chirpy whirlwind that zoomed by him, your stare and grip too focused on beating a bowl of eggs into submission to pay heed to the butchered vegetables on his side of the counter or the enamored gleam that sparked in his eyes. Intentional and raw.

Before meeting you, he could count the times he’d eaten a homemade meal actually meant for him on the fingers of one hand. At the Zen’in household, whatever chewed up and spat out leftover remained of his parents or brother’s meals ended up on his plate. On a good day, there’d be a chunk of meat to sate his hunger, but on the bad days… Well, those definitely outnumbered the good ones.

Even the pesky whining guard dogs his uncle kept around had the privilege of stuffing their bellies with specially imported Scandinavian canned food. Not him. He didn’t know the taste of real food until you forced your way into his unordinary worthless life, making all the soggy french fries his intestine had suffered through in the name of waiting out your shift’s end worth it.

Without you, he would have starved a long time ago, both literally and figuratively, as the sight of you doing what you loved the most fed into his hungry eyes. You loved cooking and he loved watching you cook, and he couldn’t wait until the two of you cut down on excess subjects coming in between. He wanted the reason for your smile to be him, not some stupid free-range egg deal you’d gotten from the farmer’s market.

“You done with the carrots?”

Your question faded into a sour statement after facing the carnage of snipped carrot greens and what was left of their orange counterparts, closer to a pulp than a usable ingredient. You probably expected to hear an “I’m sorry,” or at least an “Oops,” but that was far from what he had in mind.

You look like a fucking housewife.

With your little apron -snatched straight from your workplace’s greasy kitchen- hugging your perfect waist perfectly. With your messy hair pulled in a meatball-shaped bun, a wooden chopstick piecing it together. With your feet defying their weary state from working overtime, just so he could enjoy himself a plate of warm food—

All those little things filled his scattered brain with all sorts of ideas. He could hoist you up so easily. Loop his arms around your hips and spin you round and round the tiny space, not a single complaint escaping your lips before they are made his. You’d be pressed flush between his body and the cabinets with nowhere to go, your thighs welcoming him with the spot he longed to call home, and only then would he let his mouth run off to describe the tantalizing details of all the fantasies he’d ever had watching you in that apron, the vilest of all that you one day wore it as his wife.

“Toji…?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you listening?”

“Yeah.”

Your fingers tapped at your sides, elbows angled into triangles, and nose scrunching up. Shit. He remembered your lips moving, though he had no real recollection of what you’d just said to him. More like asked of him, judging by your irritable tone.

He shook his head unceremoniously and tossed whatever edible of the carrots inside a bowl, scrapping the peels and leaves into the trash and then he gave it up for inspection. Had you scolded him, he might’ve pretended to care, but you didn’t. Instead, you juggled a handful of onions that he caught mid-air, and he prepped his knife for the second round of calamity.

This time he’d do good, Toji inaudibly promised. He’d show you just how good he was with his hands, even if the task was so menial a fourth grader could pull it off.

Soon enough, a mountain of flawlessly chopped onions, sliced mushrooms, and cubed ham stacked up on his cutting board, their executioner impatient to receive your seal of approval. You worked with your back against him, cold air tingling the short hair at the base of his neck whenever the refrigerator opened to reveal the next ingredient. Namely something in a bowl, something in a bottle, and something in a Tupperware container. That’s as far as he could tell, his view of you narrowed down to your skirt flowing in and out of his eye’s range.

But what his eyes failed to discern, his ears made out just fine, the somewhat familiar tune you hummed gaining lyrics in his brain. It wasn’t the worst song, and as far as Toji was concerned, he wasn’t the world’s worst singer either. He could pitch in right where the chorus began, though decided against it at the very last minute. His rougher voice would stifle rather than compliment your own.

And so, he let his chance at a duet be snatched, first by the oil sizzling in the pan, and then twice again by the exhaust hood’s mortifying buzz. The song changed to one he didn’t recognize, and he was left in the awkward spot of having absolutely nothing to do other than stare at your profile and scowl at the lack of acknowledgment.

You didn’t bat an eye when you reaped the seeds of his hard work— didn’t pay a single compliment before tossing them into the fire.

Stingy ass bitch. Words cost nothing to spare.

He decided to hold onto his childish grudge for a while longer and retired against the wall nearest to the stove, a light thud echoing from where his head hit the cabinet.

Toji did love watching you in your element, but at the same time, he was so terribly… bored. You bossed him around like a dog and lacked the common decency to throw him a damn bone. Worst of all? You ignored him. His little huffs and frowns and carrots— okay, maybe he did fuck up when it came to the carrots, but what was your excuse for giving him less attention than you gave that stupid pan?

Luckily, there were plenty of ways to turn this around, especially with how unguarded the curves of your waist and shoulder were, both perfect fits for his arms to wrap and chin to nuzzle. The rest would be history. You could call him a bastard and flip his dinner over his head (oh, what a terrible waste of ingredients) after he scratched that itch.

“Are you plotting my demise?” Your voice nipped a string of indecent thoughts right in the bud. “You’ve barely said two words since we started. Makes me think either there’s a cut-off tongue in here,” you pointed at the rice, giving it a thorough stir “or that you’re scheming my assassination.”

If only you knew, he smirked, drawing away from the wall.

“Who’d ever pay to assassinate ya?” rephrased to “Who’d ever wanna assassinate a B-tier waitress,” as if to mellow the sting of his first statement, both sounding equally hideous to your ears.

“Didn’t know waitresses have tiers,” your grip on the ladle tightened, voice gaining a sudden edge.

“Course they do, dummy. Waitresses who toss in extra ketchup packets automatically rise to C-tier. Then,” Toji grinned, “there are those who wear nothin’ under their little skirts and flaunt their asses over your face for extra tips— now, those are A-tier.”

He could tell you were holding back more than the groan you let out, two of your fingers hiking up your nose and pinching at the bridge.

“What about B-tier, mister diner-expert?” you faked a smile, teeth trembling beneath pursed lips.

It was so easy to get under your skin. Shame he couldn’t say the same about your panties.

“A mix of A and C. They give ya bonus ketchup and let their ‘assets’ dangle for free, but—”

The savory aroma of oyster sauce flooded his senses, distracting his thoughts and diverting his attention from the threat your ladle posed until it batted his hand away from the pan with a vicious swing.

“—Slap ya before you can whip out your wallet,” he growled.

“As if your wallet contains anything other than soapland cards and betting slips from ‘98.”

Green eyes darted to the ceiling, a soundless whistle between his puckered lips.

“You don’t have a wallet, do you?” you said as if it was the greatest revelation of the century.

“Don’t need one,” he glared.

You sighed. “There seem to be a lot of things you don’t need.” The ladle tapped against the pan’s side for the excess grains to drop. “Or at least things you claim you don’t.”

“Need? Nah. Want, though?” Toji quickly bounced back, mischief beaming in every aspect of his expression while he rubbed his palms together like some pesky housefly.

“I can think of a few, roomie.”

“Gonna keep it up with that nickname?” you tutted.

“Don’t like it?” You shook your head. “Alright, pitch in some ideas, ‘m all ears.”

“What kind of pretentious asswipe picks their own nickname?” You shoved past him to fetch another container from the fridge, a hint of green glinting underneath the transparent lid. Uh-oh.

“The kind who refuses what others call ‘em.” His neck craned forward as he propped himself against the counter.

The view was much better from that angle. He was able to notice details he previously missed, such as the drops that’d gathered on your forehead from working over heat for so long, how your lips twitched to find the perfect comeback, or the loose strand of hair that dangled dangerously close to his eyes, inspiring him to play with it like a cat mindlessly yanked on a ball of unraveled yarn.

“I have a name, you know.” You caught onto his staring and tucked the hair behind your ear. Tsk.

“Boring,” he yawned.

“Did you just call my name boring?”

“Nah, called you boring, smarty pants.” Toji cocked his head. “Oops. Couldn’t help it.”

It was your turn to scowl, and he’d be damned if the way your fingers clutched onto the counter didn’t bring a stretch to his lips. More so than aspiring to be the one who made you smile, he took pride in being the only one who could annoy you to such great extents.

“Won’t be able to help if your tongue ends in your plate either,” you snarled.

The Tupperware opened to reveal a sea of disgusting green beads, confirming Toji’s worst fears as you stuffed your hand inside and began pouring them into the pan. Although he was nothing short of an omnivore, he never hid his distaste for the healthier nutrients of vegetables and legumes— peas included. You always tried to sneak them here and there, typically in his fried rice or curry, and every single time he’d leave the plate with enough pearls to string a necklace.

You were about to add in a second handful when the way his far more menacing green orbs drilled holes into your skull became apparent.

“Right—”

Your closed fist emptied the peas back into their container— or so would have happened, if it weren’t for the unforeseen snare around your wrist.

“What are you doin’ ?” Toji snapped.

“S-sorry,” you stuttered. “Forgot how much you hate that ‘stinky green shit’.”

“Well, they are stinky and green and taste like absolute horseshit,” he affirmed. “But you still like that shit, don’tcha?”

“I do, but-”

He dragged your hand above the fire, ushering your fingers open, while you stared at him in utter disbelief. “I’ll just spit ‘em out.”

A short breath hitched up your throat and you peeled your eyes off him, the words “How convenient” washed away once you escaped his grip and neared the sink, scrubbing your hands with soap and water.

Toji lingered around the stove a bit longer, sprinkling some more peas and a lot more ham into the pan to even things out. After all, ham was better than peas.

“And by the way,” he rubbed the greasiness against his apron. “There are better ways to shut me up.”

“Hmm?” you missed his voice under the running faucet. “What was that?”

“Said,” he moved closer, plucking the towel from the handle where it hang, and offering it to you with his most charming (read: sleazy) smile. “Could always shut me up yourself if ya wanted to.”

Reluctantly, you accepted the towel, your eyes narrowing in suspicion. He awaited your next outburst of “creative cursing” in about three seconds, but the longer you maintained eye contact, the thinner his patience wore. A million great things about you, but none of them made you any less of a pussy.

And he would have called you out on your one fatal flaw if a sequence of scenes in slow motion didn’t begin to unfold before his awestruck eyes: You beckoning him to come closer; Your slippers tipping forward and your fingers reaching out; A delicate stroke against the crown of his head, followed by another, and then another; Languid circles that didn’t comb so much as ruffled his hair; A tinge of oblivious red on his cheeks, and a conscious pink on yours; The affectionate warmth your voice basked in as you praised him, telling him he’d done well— and heavens, if he was asked what noble deed deserves such praise, he’d have no real answer to give.

And lastly, the shit-eating grin that plagued your lips as you seized victory. “See? Shut you up so easily.”

The part of him that urged to bite your hand in return for treating him like a damn puppy must have been neutered, considering the only conceivable thought that was left in his brain was to give you a reward befitting of a winner. An action more than a thought, and a reality more than imagery.

Without warning, his lips brushed over your skin, landing on your cheek in the gentlest way imaginable. Fleeting enough to convince him it didn’t register until he pulled away and saw your expression shift to that of a sore loser.

“W-what the h-hell was that?” you fumbled with your own words as if they were shoelaces bound together by some despicable bully— in that case, him.

And like every self-respecting bully, Toji enjoyed nothing more than watching his victims shudder. Your brows knitted and knees trembled at the slightest touch, making him wonder just what kind of reaction a kiss on the lips would elicit. Smirking at the notion, he knelt before you to lift the towel you’d dropped, and with a rapid flinch, he settled it on his shoulder.

“Warned ya.” He ignored your attempts at extracting further information as he walked over to the stove and pinched a pea straight from the pot, cringing as soon as it grazed his tongue.

“Stinky green shit.”

The next frame in your newly-assembled album of domestic bliss depicted a trope far too common for those familiar with 1950s movies. The spent husband who’d returned home after a tiresome day at work sprawling his limbs on the nearest kitchen chair available, fingers laced behind his head and biceps flexing in accordance, while the dutiful wife served him dinner with an extraordinarily loving smile carved on her dolled-up face. They’d sit together, laugh at how fortunate their one-dimensional lives were, and name each other “Honey”, if not “Dearest”. And of course, there would be pie for dessert!

But after the film had dried and all the smoke and mirrors were dispelled, what was left were the remnants of a reverie.

The only truth about the husband lay in how he’d spilled over your kitchen’s sole chair -the second of the set standing limp somewhere in the corner- and as for the wife, one could claim it was a honed habit, rather than blinded subservience that’d led her to the table with a most splendid dish in hand. This was as far as similarities went, for you were no husband and wife, and had no intention to break into chortles over your shared misfortunes. Besides, there was no cherry pie to justify such a crude act.

“About time.”

The last traces of pseudo-romanticism dispersed at the sight of Toji’s feet weighing down the table, the audacity in his tone tempting you to ask for a tip. This was no different than working overtime at Sakurai’s, except that old geezer, rotten as he were, always paid your extra hours. Toji, in all his unpredictability, wouldn’t waste the chance to suggest a tip of a different kind.

Casting his feet on the floor, Toji made room for you to drop his plate, and when you finally presented the finished product in all its glory —tomato-flavored fried rice tucked below a blanket of sheer gold and garnished with fine strings of ketchup— the small appreciative dimple etched on the left side of his lip felt like a privilege.

“Gonna keep loomin’ over my head like a vulture?” he gestured with his spoon.

You glanced at your own plate, and then at the broken down chair whose prayers to be fixed were never answered, and decided to dine alone in the living room. Some drama was bound to have its rerun on NHK, but before you could so much as round the table, an arm raised forward like a traffic barrier.

“There’s nowhere—”

“Here.” His other hand patted a seat on his thigh. “Don’t wanna kick ya out your own kitchen.”

“Are you serious?” You were doubtful of his invitation even as he dragged you onto his lap, your omurice all but growing wings and flying in the air.

“Dead serious,” he smirked, his knee parting your thighs while his non-dominant hand wrapped around your hip. “All nice and comfy, aren’t we?”

This is the opposite of nice and comfy, you meant to object.

You could feel everything. Every peak, every crevice, every bulging muscle of a body that was trained against its will to be hardened and rough, impenetrable to any weakness. And when you squirmed around to meet his gaze, they were the unreadable eyes of someone who’d played this game far too many times to keep count of his winnings— the bored eyes of someone who knew scoring another victory was merely a matter of minutes.

“You better not try anything weird, or I’m out,” you mumbled with less conviction than intended.

His thumb rubbed a languid circle against your hip bone as if to remind you of its presence. A battle of wits could go either way, but when it came down to raw physical strength, there was no slinking away unless he decided to let go first.

“Relax,” Toji assured with voice smooth as silk. “Just want us to eat together, that’s all.”

You had a hard time believing that was indeed all, and you were right not to, because no more than five bites into your ham-laden omurice, his knee bounced, and your legs were slung over his lap so effortlessly as though you’d moved them on your own. And in this new position, where his arm engulfed your waist from one end to the other and his fingers slyly cascaded down your skirt’s seams to brush against your bare skin— that was really all he did.

“We need new furniture,” you quavered.

“Nonsense,” he shrugged undisturbed, stuffing a spoonful in his mouth. “What did ya do with the money I gave ya?” he asked once he’d swallowed.

But you hadn’t.

“Hmph, Hmphight!” you grunted, quickly downing your bite with a chug of water. “Oh, right!” you rephrased. “Was gonna return what was left at lunch, but then you dropped the bomb on me and I forgot.”

“No need. Gave it so the kid spends it however he wants.”

“Kenzo is only eight, Toji. If I gave him the money, he’d spend it all on a mountain of cotton candy and umaibo. Got him a nice car-racing set and that was it.”

“Lame,” he sneered, your body involuntarily bending forward as he reached for his glass.

You were compelled to watch the rise and fall in his throat, lips glistening with clear droplets that dribbled to his chin. Some, he wiped with the back of his palm, while others, his tongue licked clean, and you silently wondered if there was a right and wrong way to do something this trivial, because if that was the case, then Toji’s way could only be right.

He made drinking water seem entrancing.

The next dive was imminent, but this time you were prepared. You curled closer to his chest and trusted in his arms that deliberately dipped lower than needed, cradling you even after he’d let go of his plate. You were pleased to find a single-digit number of peas remaining.

You are growing as a person, Zen’in Toji.

His gravelly voice snapped you from your thoughts. “Then, you keep the rest.”

“Well, we could use the rest to buy some extra furniture, such as a bed, a sofa, or… a chair,” you emphasized the last beat.

“Aren’t ya the sensible one?”

His fingers crept under your skirt to bestow a light squeeze on your thigh, a haughty smile spreading to his lips. It baffled you how he acted on every single impulse without hesitance. Just pure action and reaction. Zero contemplation whatsoever.

You interjected before he could get any funnier ideas and peeled his hand off— or at least dragged it to a less risque area of your body.

“And as the sensible one, I get to call the shots,” you declared. “We are goin’ tomorrow.”

A few murmurs of protest buzzed in your ears though none significant enough to defy you. He agreed to drive you wherever as long as you paid for gas, and it was fair, considering he was paying for everything else. And when you recited the list of chores around the house that were postponed due to either lack of height, strength, or sheer laziness, and he inaudibly acquiesced, you thought that this just might work.

“So, you’re crashing the couch tonight?”

No answer.

“Toji?”

“You smell nice,” he blurted seemingly out of the blue, with a strand of your hair wrapped around his forefinger and held near his nose.

“Not letting you use my shampoo,” you scoffed.

“That’s not what I meant, idiot.”

He released your hair with a not-so-gentle yank, coaxing a high-pitched squeal.

What an asshole.

“You’d smell nice too if you ever used something with fragrance,” you said.

“Suggestin’ I reek?” Toji glared.

Much to his dismay, a snort preceded your answer. “That’s not what I meant either, idiot. All I’m saying is you have no real smell. Every self-respecting playboy oughta ‘t least smell like cheap hotel and drugstore cologne, or smoke, or you know. Something sleazy that screams ‘I’ll hump and dump you.’”

His expression remained sour, almost defensive. You should’ve just taken the compliment. A grumpy Toji could turn insufferable in minutes.

“Hey, I-”

“Work calls for it,” He cocked his head. “Can’t be invisible if I leave a trail of peaches and jasmine back.”

“It’s gardenia, actually,” you smiled.

“Whatever,” he muttered.

Even as he faced away from you, his fingers refused to unlatch from your waist—and truthfully, you wouldn’t mind staying like this a while longer. On a typical Friday night, you’d be stuck in front of the TV with a cup of Nissin Noodles, too tired from your shift to consider going through your contacts for some cheap company, and too prideful to hit him up only to have some bimbo answer his phone instead. But he was there now and you felt relieved you didn’t have to stay awake in a cold bed, wondering what color handbag his newest conquest carried and whether it matched her five-inch heels— but most of all, you were relieved that bickering in his arms felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“You like your job, Toji?”

You brushed up a question you’d asked far too many times throughout the years and whose answer remained quizzically the same; “Dunno.”

“Don’t you ever want to quit?” you pressed on. “Shower yourself with an absurd amount of perfume, or go ‘round stomping your feet really loudly?”

“Are those supposed to be your arguments for me to quit?” His eyes rolled to the back of his skull while he leaned against his chair. “I’ll raise ya this. Easy cash and double-digit annual workload, versus however many hours you work at that rathole for breadcrumbs. That settles it?”

“Money has nothing to do with enjoyment,” you said.

His tongue clicked into a sharp sigh. “It’s the one thing I can do.”

“That’s not true. There’s plenty you can do!”

You punched his shoulder playfully, and he couldn’t be less thrilled to find what you’d come up with.

“You really showed those carrots who’s the boss," you chuckled. "And, you’re not half as bad as a human chair. Got a bright future ahead of you.”

“You want me to quit?”

His sudden question threw away whatever light-hearted atmosphere and tossed it in the trash, voice cutting with the sharpness of a hundred razors.

“It’s not my place to tell you whether you should or shouldn't quit, Toji.”

“I’ll quit if you ask me to.”

The silence felt… weird. Like a forced cliffhanger in the middle of an episode, your answer gaining more weight than it ought to. However long you postponed, the commercial break never came, and you were left staring into a pair of eyes that flickered back and forth between a state of narrowness and wideness. Of patience and demand. Of sincerity and uncertainty. Of trust and distrust.

Even for a second, he’d put his fate in your hands, and you held onto it so scarcely as if the wrong kind of shake would break it— would break him.

“I just don’t want you getting hurt,” you confessed, warmth spreading from your voice to where your fingers found purchase on his cheeks, soft thumbs rolling unhurriedly against flushed skin. Because you are precious to me.

“If you got another scar,” you continued “it’d be as if you are permanently frowning. Or,” You nudged the left corner of his mouth upward, “smiling.”

And what was about to come next, you should’ve been able to predict because all the signs were there— His absolute compliance and relish for the slow, kneading motions of your fingers; The intensity in his stare waning past heavy eyelids; The hand that moved higher up your back and the one that wrapped behind your neck to reel you in; His lips eagerly parting before they even had the chance to meet with yours.

The incoming storm gathered one dark cloud at a time, though it took the first drop of rain for you to heed the warnings of your bleary conscience.

“Don’t,” you whispered one breath away from sharing his.

Toji was all but disheartened, his eyes focusing solely on your mouth and ignoring what came out of it. “Let me kiss you.”

The softness in his tone kept you from turning around until the last minute, your aversion rousing spite in him. “I said, let me fucking kiss you.”

And while his hand moved patiently the first two times, it forcefully pushed you onto him the third, your last line of defense being your fingers as they were caught in the crossfire of his lips.

“We shouldn’t.”

“Why the hell not?” he hissed.

“Because…”

Because we can’t— an all-time classic.

Because we are friends— an excuse.

Because I don’t want to— a lie.

Because it won’t end at just a kiss— a truth.

And finally, the real reason; Because I love you.

Tears threaded your eyelashes, your vision of Toji turning watery, yet not blurry enough to drown the cadence of emotions in his eyes. Confusion, hurt, and anger. So much anger that it stifled all potential answers and seared your fingertips which were still attached to his lips, and as shallow as it sounds, you were ecstatic to find the one spot that was utterly soft in his slanted scar.

If a scar is evidence of pain, what is evidence of heartbreak? If scars are healed pain, what becomes of a pain that never heals?

Your thumbs slid across his jaw and returned to your sides, the lump in your throat dissolving into a broken sigh as you attempted to dismount from his lap.

“Because new rule: no kissing your roommate unless their life depends on it.”

“Like hell, I agreed to this,” Toji grunted, his grip -desperate now- bruising your waist.

Just when you thought your self-hatred reached its peak, you shoved his hands off your body and jolted up, legs slightly numb from balancing on his for so long.

“Agreed or not, my house, my rules. If you can’t respect that, there’s the door” you snapped, sending whatever desire might have sparked straight to the guillotine.

“So what’s it gonna be?”

His fingers wove through raven hair, his palm concealing the blown pupils as they reached their crescendo; fury.

A pang echoed against the hollow table, followed by the slight reverberation of the cutlery in the plates, his fist the sole culprit. He scoffed, muttering to himself something about blue balls and rules that were meant to be broken, profanities that could make even a sailor’s ears turn red spilling left and right until he gritted his teeth and locked in his final answer.

“Better brace yourself then, because I’m getting that kiss, be it in life, or in death.”

tags: @absoluteindulgence , @evansuvamp , @sarwhorius , @liluvtojineteyam

Anyone else, comment so I can tag your @.

[lionofstone]

BODYSHARE is a fantasy novella about Luke Milton, a recent college graduate and divorcee who makes a deal with the devil: in exchange for success in his musical career, he agrees to share his body.

BODYSHARE comes out in October, and the author (me!) is currently looking for ARC readers! If you’d be interested in receiving a digital ARC, you can APPLY HERE.

Here’s the full summary:

Luke Milton made a deal with the devil. Now, he's getting everything he ever wanted: musical opportunities, charting albums, world tours, and a thriving fanbase. The only cost? His body, which he now shares with the devil itself as it goes about its mysterious business. All in all, the tradeoff isn't too bad. He's also always wanted an intimate connection.

After both his college diploma and his divorce papers are signed, twenty-two-year-old Luke Milton is approached by the devil—an energetic force that's been present in one way or another for his whole life—who lauds him with praise for his musical skill and insists that it could help him further his career. When initial reviews of his EP are shaky, it doesn't take long before Luke is agreeing, even though the terms of the deal require him making space in his body for the devil the share.

Luke's career develops rapidly, and so does his relationship with the devil. As they work together through album releases and world tours, they become further and further intertwined, and Luke has to wonder if it's worth it.

[ID: The cover for the book BODYSHARE by Leandra Inglis. The cover is made to look like a music player, with album art, a track title, an artists name, a progress bar, and play/skip buttons. The album art features a burning polaroid picture of a boy with a guitar on a red background. The word “BODYSHARE” is written across the top. Where the track title and artists name would go, instead it reads Bodyshare - Leandra Inglis. END ID]

[moonlitphoenixflight]

In Stars and Time AU with shapeshifting aliens (Of Void and Light) [part 1]

[part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5]

When I play new games which I enjoy I often come up with AUs and such while I am playing them because my brain gets too full of hyperfixation and it has to do something with all that. A lot of this ends up being large amounts of original worldbuilding. For Isat, I had a couple little things, but the one that developed the most was an AU in which Siffrin and The King were twin shapeshifting alien royalty.

My cousin and I have done a little bit of work on an AU that's based on this one but more canon compliant than the barely at all that this is. There's some progress on a fic outline but I'm bad at finishing projects.

Beneath the cut is information on the non-canon compliant version.

The Shapeshifting Aliens

I call them changelings because I really like the word changeling. Their origin is that at some point in the past, there was a war between various different alien species in some other galaxy. The main reason they were fighting was because of communication barriers.

The Stars saw this, and decided that they should probably intervene.

In this AU, both 'The Stars' and 'The Universe' each refer to two different things. The definitions that we have in real life exists, but also, 'The Stars' are gods that are fundamental parts of the world, rather than existing because mortals worshipped them into existence (a god trope I like to use). 'The Universe' refers to the collective council of Stars.

The way The Stars decided to fix it was to create a species that could go and solve the problems. The Stars took some Void essence, and combined it with some Light essence to create a base. Void and Light essence separately are very powerful but very unstable, but combined they balance each other out, and make for a good base for a soul.

Void and Light essence are also both amorphous in physical form, meaning that the bodies of the species created would be as well. Because of this, The Stars gave this species the ability to shapeshift. It would also allow the new species to join the societies of each of the warring species, and eventually bridge the language barriers. This power would result in other species naming them changelings when they found out about it.

The changelings' shapeshifting combined with their connection the The Stars, which gave them both a constant benevolent motivation, and immense power, managed to end the war and unite the various species. A politics developed in which changelings were frequently in charge, because of the above connection to The Stars, though not always. Its called an empire not because of similarities to real life empires with Bad Politics (the Bad Politics comes later) but because empire is a fun word.

Over time, the changelings expanded, reproducing through what is essentially mitosis. Some groups of changelings decided to split off to explore other parts of the universe (notice the lowercase). To do this, they built ships the size of artificial moons, with ecosystems on them. The purpose of the size was for the long term sustainability, since to get to anywhere it would take an extremely long time. (my reason is that its fun)

The tradeoff for the size was that the amount of energy required to move the moonships was immense. Because of this, most of them traveled in trips from the main portion of the empire, to a single destination, then back again.

There was one exception to this, a moonship by the name of Xiriel.(the X pronounced like cks, not z) Xiriel was an exception to quite a lot of things, including the assumption that changelings are always benevolent creatures.

This is getting long, so I am going to make this be multiple posts. Next part will be about Xiriel.

[adainesfroggieboggy]

i want to share my future bad kids bc that i came up with for a fic. i love them dearly. Below the cut bc its so long.

Adaine goes to Fallinel for a while and goes into politics after college, but after quite a few years of working her ass off to fix the country, she leaves because Jawbone’s lycanthropy becomes very difficult for him to live alone. He has Sandra Lynn but they’re both getting old and he’s sick. She comes home for him, takes a job as the divination teacher at Augefort, and settles back into Elmville peacefully. I also think she dates a hell of a lot and I hc pan Adaine. I feel like with immortality, sexuality becomes pretty fluid, and Adaine very much leans into that. When she moves back to Elmville, she puts dating on pause and just teaches and cares for Jawbone (the principal of Augefort).

Fig and Ayda tour together for years. Fig loves playing and she never wants to stop. Not even when in their 30’s, Ayda decides she wants to settle down. They break up pretty amicably and Fig tours for a long time afterwards. She slows down when she hits her 40s and ends up living in Bastion City, still a rock star, but she doesn't tour quite so often or go quite so far, but she never quite stops. She's happy, and pulls tons of chicks when she wants to, but doesn't really date seriously? Even in her 40s, she's so young for an archdevil. Her friends have decades, she has centuries. She lives her young soul life for a long ass time.

Kristen spreads the gospel of Cassandra for a long time. She leaves the party to run the church and just gets too busy to continue the frequent traveling. She gets married and divorced, has a couple kids, and lives in Bastion City. She has a very amicable tradeoff with the kids and shares custody but spends the majority of her time running the church. Her kids are sweet and loved, and so is she. Her life is mundane and easy now, which she learns to really love. She just settles down and learns to channel her chaos. She becomes a very great mom, pastor, and person, doing a lot of volunteer and outreach work, loving the world, her life, and her family. I think she ends up having a very serious long-term relationship but keeps her very separate from her kids. it's a quiet life.

Riz is absolutely an investigative reporter! Murph says this in one of his fireside chats, and I wholeheartedly agree! He leaves the party first because he didn't ever want the adventuring life, he wants the detective, crime-solving part of it. He goes to school and ends up with a law degree (bc he's just cool and would absolutely take lawyer classes to make sure he was able to cite laws) and a really badass job as a reporter, kicking ass and taking names, but with words as his weapon! He stays in Bastion City, makes friends, and just is happy. He doesn't get married or have kids, but he has so much platonic love and familial love! He's so happy and cool and very effective. He likes to enlist Adaine for arcane cases, and she definitely heads over every time and stays over in his apartment and they're super close. He's also super close with fabian, but their lives are so different that it's a different kind of closeness.

Gorgug's life is super chill and simple He doesn't marry Zelda bc they're children, but he does fall head-over-heels for a woman and gets married. He leaves because he suffers a pretty severe head injury, but also because his wife is pregnant! He has a son his parents are so sweet and excited. He's a tinkerer, but also a professor at Augefort! Zac said that Gorgug may help people who are multiclassing, and I like the idea that Jawbone opens a completely new section of the school that focuses specifically on multiclassing, and Gorgug teaches both barbarian and artificer classes! He really chills out and his rage is very rare and almost always in defense of his family. Chill, happy, relaxed Gorgug just vibes with me.

FABIAN! My favorite most hc. He's a dad. He has two daughters and they're his whole entire world. Leaving the party was absolutely not his choice, but he lost his leg in a brutal battle and his body no longer cooperates with the way he needs to move. He's got chronic pain and just can't adventure any longer, so he ends up moving to a seaside town and becoming a stay-at-home dad. At some point during his recovery, his first wife leaves him and the girls and Cathilda moves in. The girls call her their Dida and she's like their other grandma. He's a stay-at-home dad and loves it! He and Aelwyn reconnect as adults and end up getting married now that they're no longer so toxic in each other's lives, and Aelwyn is an absolutely amazing stepmom. She'd never imagined having her own kids, but she loves the girls so much and they're all so happy together. Aelwyn is still a researcher and an abjurative wizard, so he happily stays at home. They might have a mansion in the sky because it's a bit in one of the fireside chats and I love to commit to a bit. They're so cute! Domestic, toxic masculinity is dead, stay-at-home dad and his smart, hot, kind, caring wife.

Also, bonus one, I am so tempted to kill Gilear. A lot of my hcs are based on actual things the cast has said, and Brennan says, "As the person who plays Gilear, I'd like to see him dead in the fucking ground." I am not a Gilear lover, I find him funny and entertaining, but there is something about that sad elf man that makes me wanna kill him. Like if we were in Spyre and I knew Gilear, I might just kill him. Straight up. (Kidding, kidding. I wouldn't kill him, but in a campaign? I'd probably attack him for fun so often bc i wouldn't have Emily at my table.) If he doesn't end up just straight-up dead, he's vice principal. It's much better to have his ex-wife's new boyfriend as his boss for the rest of his sad little life. No happiness for him. I love Emily, I love Fig. Gilear? Dead to me.

[randomnameless]

More artbook stuff!!

Dev notes about the remaining Bastorias cast (without Reimann, he'll be tackled in the traitors update)!

How is that angel vs human composition in Albion?

Bryce was ultimately reworked to be some sort of Robin Hood unit - we meet him first in Cornia unpromoted, then we recruit (or kill) him in Bastorias as a Hoplite, aka, a promoted unit!

Granted, his group of "thieves", the Rock Rats, are periodically heard about by several NPC (iirc in Drakengard too even if we don't meet them?) so yep, he's still around, stealing from Zenoira and trying to find a place to call home for his fellow thieves, after kicking out Nina from the gang when he learnt she still had a place to go (but then they make up, and in the cover of this artbook, she and her sister Mille are sitting on Bryce's shoulders!).

Bar that, Bryce apparently comes from Drakengard (was he a desert dweller?) and has an interesting recruitment dialogue, and even rapport conversation with Alain that totally does not hint at the final boss of this arc's identity nor his motivations at all - about how the ones who started from scratch and rose to a position of power are the most dangerous of them all, since they will do anything to conserve/keep the power they've reached, even if it means pissing on the person they used to be, or forgetting why they wanted that power in the first place.

Unit wise, he's a Hoplite, like Hodrick. Great physical tank who can protect allies but he dies to mages and breakers.

The only named playable bear in the game, Bertrand!

IDK about the "mafia/yakuza" boss, but the other bear units sort of smile, when Bertrand never does so maybe it was to highlight his taciturn disposition : when we meet him, he and Govil - a young and hotheaded werewolf - are arguing about what to do against Zenoira, Betrand doesn't want to mount another attack/counterinvasion because last time they failed, and iirc, it was during that last time that they had a lot of casualties, including his own son.

Govil apparently dgaf and wants to take a shot at Zenoira - in what seems to be a suicide mission with half of his people in shambles - and they argue, Alain can either decide to help Bertrand (thus making an enemy of Govil), Govil (so you don't recruit Bertrand), or to take them both on (and recruit the two!).

They agree to join, and ultimately make up, Bertrand will totes not become the guard of Govil's new tavern, and in the epilogue, they're bathing in a Bastorias hot spring together.

Maybe VW didn't want to have some "depression, the rapport convo" between him and Fodoquia talking about their respective dead sons, but I liked how Bertrand is still clearly in mourning and how the loss of his son and his forced "pacifism" are really at the core of his character, and not a thrown away line : war takes away people you hold dear, even if you're fighting for a cause, and it's a real toll that sucks, even (or rather, especially) when you're just someone who never asked for any of this shit to happen.

Imagine someone mourning for his dead family member in a game where some fraud tells you that "no biggie, we're all risking our lives out there, mine as I invade you, or you as you try to fend off my invasion!" - that game would suck, right?

Unit wise, Werebears are... a nightmare to face, especially if you don't have breakers, or magic users.

They are even more bulky than Hoplites (tfw higher HP even if their guard rate can be lower) and can actually hit and at times kill enemies (unlike Hoplites save for magic!Hodrick shenanigans). Tradeoff is that they cannot guard allies with their base skill set (unlike Hoplites) but their end of battle skill - a hit propotional to the amount of HP they have left - is completely stupid, since it doesn't take into account the enemy's def stat.

Alain by the end of Bastorias, even without his grandpa's shiny sword, should be a force to be reckoned with who only dies to magic or to RNG, well, mine died to a fucking bear who hammered him to oblivion with Life Blow. And they look cute as fuck, with their tiny shoes, huge chest armor and blood-stained hammers!

Sure they don't do that "tank" thing very reliably, but they're cute.

Govil, the unexpected popular maiden picked by the players!

I got the 80s' punk vibe lol, and where Bertrand became a forced pacifist after losing his son, Govil, character wise, is the hot headed youth who wants to attack/kill/get rid of Zenoirans in Bastorias... because they killed his grandparents and are still killing various people everyday, he wants revenge.

Fitting with the 80s' punk idea the devs had, after seeing reason y joining Alain and co, Govil, in his rapport convo, reveals that he isn't someone who loves to fight or who enjoys brawls, he wants to re-open the tavern his grandparents (not his bio ones, but randos who adopted him!!!) had, is quite self-conscious about his appearance but really doesn't want people to know that he cares about how he looks, and is a bit curious about humans, since Bastorias doesn't see a lot of them.

Unit wise...

Werebears are really units, after two runs, I can safely say I didnt' understand how they were supposed to be played, or what they were supposed to do.

They are good at finishing already damaged units, and have an AoE, but they don't hit quite hard and aren't very bulky so... I'd like to try using or building some unit composition around him one day, but I haven't really found a "way" to make him work :(

Eligor, the twist!

I've read some people's thoughts about how that twist revealing him to be a bestral under his mask was totes foreshadowed since he's the only one crouching - granted Belisarius does the same and after meeting Baltro in the previous arc I can't really be sure what a "humanoid" looks like - and he called Conrad, a minor boss, a "human" earlier in a map.

That was a lolcalisation goof, Eligor never calls anyone "human" before the reveal : aka when he backstabs Reimann.

Let it be in FE or in UO, no one really gives a fuck about magic and science discoveries when it involves brainwashing animal people :(

Now, Eligor's backstory and motivations are really one of the worst points of the Bastorias arc for me, to the point where I would have wondered if he didn't cook the entire thing, if not for the Encyclopedia revealing us that yep, rat bestrals exist (but not rabbit bestrals... despite them being our item shopkeepers...) and lived in hiding.

Through the campaign, we learned that Bastorias was always ruled by the Lion Clan/Tribe, and how it had a rigid hierarchy/structure : Lions were the rulers, Owls are the mayors/lorekeepers, Cats are fishers, Goats are innkeepers/merchants, etc etc. Per Eligor, the rats were shunned by the rest of Bastorias and lived in hiding.

However, what we see through the various quests is... well, Ramona, sheltering a young human (?) girl and an amnesiac lion on top of organising a resistance with NPC of different tribes, Goats, Owls and Wolves worrying about a young cat, an orphanage organised by a human who takes care of lost children, the Rock Rats (Bryce'n'pals) being welcomed in a city of bestrals and being able to settle in said city, Yunifi, a human (?) who manages to talk to every bestral out there, Ramona and Morard more than once saying Bastorias needs to stand united against Zenoira : but we see it united, or at least, tribes accepting to work with each other.

Is it something that only happened """thanks""" to Zenoira's invasion? Or because back when the Lion tribe was still around, they pissed on everyone who wasn't them (especially rats)? And yet, Morard's backstory revelas that the Lion King was so grateful that Morard tried to save his daughter that he saved his life with the Bastorais Blue, aka the mc guffin that turns humans in Bestrals (or Bestrals in humans!).

Eligor speaks of an oppression we don't see in-game, but I'll chalk it up to doylsit reasons here : lack of budget to properly cook Bastorias, even if it's still one of my favourite arcs.

Now, as for his motivations properly... being shunned for being a rat, he was captured by Gharn- I mean, Baltro, who killed all of his kin in gruesome experiments, leaving only him as the only survivor, with now, superpowers and a nice armor.

(Uh. That totes doesn't remind me of something.)

Then, grateful for finally having a chance to be something else than a mere "rat" with his new body, Eligor sides with the ones who experimented on him

(...at least Eligor isnt' calling himself the flame emperor?)

To reach his goal, become the King of Bastorias and leader of all bestrals, he, a mere rat.

To do so, Eligor works with Reimann (under, presumably, Baltro's orders) and IDK if he participated in the "kill every lion by taking their baby hostage" operation, but given how he gleefully mocks Morard who, berserked, turns his axe on his daughter-sister Yunifi and Ramona, the woman who sheltered them both by saying something like "not so proud anymore Lion!" I wouldn't put it behind him.

(which has all kinds of dark implications, because if you don't go to Bastorias, in the final Map, Reimann brings his enslaved Bestral army with him, including Morard and Ramona but not Yunifi, are we supposed to guess that a berserk!Morard or a berserk!Ramona killed her? :'( )

Much like Bryce teased, Eligor who, I suppose, at first wanted a place to live/exist in Bastorias, despite being a rat, now became someone obsessed with enslaving/berserking every other bestral to make sure he will become the leader of Bastorias - denying everyone else their place to live/exist.

No sad uwus for him, merely Morard calling him a moron because he is no lion, and they all wanted to make Bastorias a place where everyone could live, despite their race/tribe, but Eligor's dream became warped, he just wanted, even if it only lasted an instant, to be at the top, he a measly rat, no matter the cost.

In an era where AOT's ending exist, I'm glad UO didn't pull any punches by showing us what Eligor's dream meant for the entire Bastorian population that wasn't him, and unlike Alcina before him, there's no pity party for the dude, because saving the rest of the country and making sure their minds will never be enslaved/controlled/berserked again takes the priority.

Unit-wise, I found it very fitting how Eligor is supposed to be a dodge tank who sort of protects his allies but actually costs them points of action (or passive points), so he protects them or is their leader... by actively crippling them!

It fits with his arc, he wants to be come the King, even if it means enslaving his people, because what is important is not them, but him becoming king.

(which is why, as a post game playable unit, Eligor is a bit... uh... well.)

Next : la perfide Albion!

[girderednerve]

i wanted to learn how to make gifs but i couldn't find a straightforward explainer for how to do it so i am writing notes on how i have done it so far for my one (1) gif! it's a pain,

get video of thing. i can't torrent because of how my internet works, so i i screen-recorded! there's a quality tradeoff for doing it that way, but so it goes. if you have nightlight filter on turn that off first. to screen record on windows, open the video you want to watch, go into browser settings & turn off 'hardware acceleration' to avoid netflix blackscreen, and then smash windows key+g, which for some reason runs through xbox game bar (?????) but works really well & also grabs audio! save recording to a place you can find it

start up openshot (free & open-source video editor!). add file to openshot, then drop it onto the timeline. slice off any extra video that you don't need to keep (put the playhead where you want to trim, then right-click slice & choose keep left or keep right). if you are making multiple gifs, keep the video together to apply filters, then slice into separate clips (slice -> keep both), then copy-paste into separate openshot projects right before step #5

crop video if needed! right-click clip on the timeline -> properties to open the properties pane to the left of the screen, scroll down to "scale," right-click the button next to scale to change it to 'crop,' then adjust the x and y values. start with small adjustments

click into the effects tab (it's by the assets library, where your uploaded video is! if it isn't there, go into the view tab at the top of the window and click 'effects' to turn it back on). if you want to do color adjustments or other visual effects, click & drag them from the effects pane onto your clip, then fiddle around with settings. small adjustments

captions! if you want captions on your gif, you can drag the 'captions' effect onto the clip, which should then open up the captions window. make adjustments on the left pane first to control where & how your captions appear (check that opacity is 255! it defaults to 1 for some reason, which is mostly transparent), then go into the captions tool on the right side of the screen and add captions. mind your timestamps or it won't work right, this confused me very badly for a minute. captions are kind of a pain ngl

export project. if you are making one gif then just go to file -> export -> advanced tab, choose 'image sequence,' and under 'image sequence settings' change the file ending to 'gif.' save it somewhere you can find it with a logical name

if you are like me your gif is probably too big. time to install ffmpeg! follow the wikihow directions for installing ffmpeg if you are on windows. if you are not on windows, time to sudo apt get ffmpeg.

i copied the directions in this reddit post & it worked fine for me, but i'm sure you could tweak it for improved quality! if you're on windows, open the folder that you saved your gifs into in file explorer, then right-click -> open in terminal before you put in the prompts so you don't have to worry about typing in the full file directory names for your gifs (tedious).

profit??? well, probably, iterate. but still it's fun to have fun

[uncannyforest]

What have I been up to? (1/2)

I was posting gamedev updates here daily and then I stopped 😅 so here's a catch-up:

A month ago I actually reached an important milestone in my Essence game in terms of having implemented most of the essential features I was planning, and the game was kind of fun . . . but not as fun as it could be. So I decided I needed to take a step back and figure out what direction it needs to go before I continue coding. I don't want to waste time implementing features if I'm going in the wrong direction.

So I took a step back from the game to research by playing Minicraft (not a typo) and OpenRCT2, which have influenced me, plus watching YouTube videos of other similar games to figure out what makes them fun.

I also had a conversation with a friend of mine who released a mobile game a couple years ago named Blocky Arena which also involves combat & commanding NPCs—though not terraforming—which has also been useful for me to learn from.

By studying other games and talking to my friend, I realized that while my game has a fun leveling-up mechanic, leveling up is pretty boring when that's it—leveling up alone is how you get a game like Cookie Clicker (which I am not a fan of). Most games also feature trade-offs that make you think strategically. Now, fortunately a bit of the work I already had ahead was in line with this, I just still need to implement it.

But one of the biggest conclusions I came to in that category was that I'd left out an important feature in my design of Essence. For context, more than any other game, Essence imitates the gameplay of an old game named Bolo:

Bolo is a game I played a ton as a kid, which combines combat and terraforming. It involves army tanks on a battlefield where you can modify the map—you have to build a fort and expand it. When I first came up with the plan for Essence I wanted it to be like this, except with pets.

Of course, I figured I'd change the theme from army tanks to the classic "guy with a sword," but in the process I removed the fact that in Bolo attacks also terraform, since my game doesn't involve bullets and mines. But this was key to making Bolo interesting: currently in Essence, terraforming and combat have little interaction with each other, kind of unrelated features stuck together a single game. But there's nothing about the theme of the game (not being army tanks) that prevents it. It actually would make a lot of sense for creatures' abilities (say, grass powers, fire powers, destruction, etc) to have both terraforming and combat effects—it just didn't occur to me before.

Side-effects like that are an example of the tradeoffs/strategy that makes a game fun. So I'm currently working on planning a roadmap with tweaks like that.

I've also been spending a lot of time just playing Minicraft and OpenRCT2.

[isa-ghost]

Outdoor Headcanons!

For the egg oc event run by @which-qsmp-egg-would :D

Here's Outdoor's ref!

He has 3 parents, 2 dads and 1 mom!

Trilingual! He speaks English, Spanish, and a secret third thing! (It's Elvish :P)

You bet your ass he's off somewhere making weird forest soups in A Bucket He Found. All other campers are welcome to join him. Let Them Cook!!

The second he's clean he's going right back outside to reacquaint himself with the soil.

Loves sunshine and thunderstorms equally. Please for the love of gods watch him closer when it's storming, he WILL go out to romp in puddles and watch lightning. He's got that Midwesterner syndrome, tornadoes and severe weather ain't shit 😤

He made the lil clusterfuck sun/flower/twig thing on his head (in egg form) himself! :D

He was meant to be named Outside by his parent because Ha Ha Almost Egg Pun. And then he was almost named Scout but he refused that one too because it's too basic. So he settled on Outdoor. No pun, not basic. Perfect.

The above probably makes it pretty clear, but he's a very headstrong egg! While he isn't exactly an anarchist and is by no means a brat, Outdoor knows what he wants and what he likes and you better have a worthy tradeoff to get him to do something he doesn't want to. He only cooperates via compromises, no "or elses."

LOVES to play pretend and roleplay. He's almost guaranteed to get a whole LARP game going with the entire camp. Or a good ol game of tag. He thrives on chasing people around. Hide and seek's fun too but with eggs? Too much can go wrong. (Side eyes a certain bear)

Outdoor has some. Um. *clears throat nonchalantly* Fa͝mil͘y ̧M͜e̸di̢c͝al His͢to̧r̀y̴ to be aware of, but he would actually really prefer if the average camper wasn't aware. His parent has informed the counselors and other relevant camp staff to ensure both Outdoor and other people at the camp are safe, happy, and healthy! Please do contact his parent for further questions via [my askbox]!

He has a twin sister, but she's too shy to join him at camp :(

Given that Chayanne is my favorite egg I am obligated to make my son Also a kick-ass little protector. But like. He does it himself, there's no family pressure behind it.

He has a temper. But hes been raised to have strong self-control in this regard and reserves it only for people or things that deserve it. Totally unrelated, I would not put it past him to bite Federation workers,,,,

He would be SO DOWN to go ghost hunting with other eggs, if any of them are brave enough.

Watches anime, but is super slow with getting through a show because most of his time is devoted to, well, being outdoors.

He used to loathe door puns (for some reason people will call him Door for short and he hates it) but then he started owning it and so help him, if you make a particularly bad one, he will find the nearest door and start spam opening/closing it while making hard eye contact.

LOVES swimming, please bring him to the nearest lake. He also loves wading in creeks and such looking for neat rocks and little critters like frogs.

Can do a backflip. Will find any excuse to show people how he can do a backflip. Please watch him do a backflip, his parent taught him how to do it. His parent is so cool.

He has the dumbest humor. It's his parent's fault. Sorry but [reverb burp/fart] is peak humor.

This child is so full of ADHD. Like SO full. And it shows, he's very much the hyperactive type. He also vocal stims, which, if not a meme he currently can't get enough with, is probably some kind of bird call or other wildlife noise. His biggest and longest-standing hyperfixations are on birds (esp corvids & raptors) and big cats!

[im-not-thinking-confetti-cannons]

Day 6: Orgasm Delay/Denial

Warnings: none

Rating: E

Pairings: Boyd x Raylan, Jimmy x Raylan, Raylan x Tim, Boyd x Jimmy x Raylan x Tim

“Room for one more?”

Raylan’s got his face under the stream of water in the shower, but he doesn’t have to open his eyes to know it’s Boyd doing the asking – or to know that the man didn’t wait for an answer before opening the door and joining him. He scrubs a hand over his face as familiar hands settle on his hips, turns just in time to catch Boyd’s mouth in a slow, easy kiss. 

“Good morning to you too,” Raylan murmurs, chuckling under his breath as Boyd gently urges him back against the wall, pressing their bodies together in a way that gets Raylan’s attention, immediately. “Extra good morning, actually.”

Boyd kisses him again, a little harder, a little deeper – with purpose – and Raylan melts a little, the full-on attention getting to him more than the feeling of Boyd’s skin against his own. He’s already half-hard, just from Boyd’s hands on his hips and a couple of kisses, and he’s got a feeling this little morning delight isn’t going to take very long at all.

Boyd nips at his lip, soothing the sting with his tongue and swallowing down the desperate little sound Raylan makes. Boyd kisses like he intends on claiming Raylan's mouth for his own - like every inch of Raylan hasn't belonged to him since they were 19 and covered in coal dust - and Raylan isn't keen on talking him out of the urge.

“Raylan,” Boyd says, pressed so close Raylan can feel the rumble of the words in his own chest. The tile is cold, but Boyd is warm, and that’s a tradeoff Raylan will take any day. "Raylan."

The sound of his name in Boyd's low growl of a voice has Raylan shuddering, gasping out a shaky little breath when Boyd wraps a hand around them both. Raylan’s head thunks back against the shower wall, his eyes fluttering shut as a groan works its way out of his throat. 

“You’re going to make me late," he says, more out of the need to be ornery than anything else, and he feels the way Boyd ducks his head to hide his grin against Raylan's shoulder, the little huff of laughter his words draw. 

“Then you might have considered leaving half-an-hour ago, with Tim.”

“You know I need my beauty sleep. I–” Raylan’s voice cracks when Boyd scrapes his teeth over his pulse, and for a moment he wishes for a mark so strongly he can almost taste it. It would show above his collar, be impossible to hide, but he wants it. Wants to wear the bruise, and then come home and have Boyd darken it with sucking kisses and sharp teeth.

Boyd’s grip tightens, and the rest of Raylan’s half-formed reply dies in his throat. "Fuck, Boyd," he manages. "Just like that." He bucks his hips up, chasing the tightening coil of pleasure he can feel beginning to build low in his gut. Boyd knows how to work him, how to wind him up just right, and Raylan's never quite figured out how not to fall apart at his touch.

Boyd gets him right there, right to the edge, and then-

"Goddammit," Raylan groans, as Boyd's hand falls away, leaving him aching and straining and so, so close. "Boyd, what the fuck."

Boyd presses a kiss to his collarbone, and Raylan would consider it apologetic except for the way Boyd nips at the skin, leaving a red, stinging mark behind, one that Raylan will feel even if it won’t show. “Not yet,” Boyd says, and the raspiness of his voice and the pleased little smile on his face is almost enough to make up for the fact that Raylan has to spend ten minutes thinking about coal dust and slurry to get his jeans to zip up.

Almost.

<hr>

Four hours later, Tim drags him out of the office for “lunch,” and Raylan doesn’t suspect a thing until Tim pulls into an empty parking lot and all but attacks his belt.

“Easy,” Raylan says, like he’s not primed and ready to go from the way Boyd left him hanging in the shower. "Christ, what's gotten into you?"

"Nothing, yet," Tim says, cheeky in a way that doesn't register immediately, and then those long, slender fingers slip into Raylan's underwear and wrap around his cock. And Raylan…

Well, Raylan fucking loves Tim's hands. Tim's got a habit of giving him the full length of them when he fingers Raylan open, and sometimes that's all Raylan can think about when he sees Tim twirling a pen around in the office, or pouring a cup of coffee at home. Even now, with Tim jerking him off rough and fast and perfect, that's where Raylan's mind goes: to Tim's fingers slipping a little lower, pressing into him, stretching him open just fast enough for it to burn in the best of ways.

"Might have to talk you into getting something into me," Raylan pants, and Tim rewards him with a devastating twist of his hand. Raylan whimpers, spreading his legs a little more, and pushes up into the touch best he can.

He's close, and he’s not even embarrassed about it. He's going to make a mess of his pants and probably his shirt, but he can taste the orgasm that's coming and he's not going to make Tim stop, not for anything. 

Tim, though, seems to have a different idea. 

“Whoops,” he says, far too cheery for the time and the place and Raylan’s own desperation. “Look at the time. We don’t want to be late getting back to the office.”

And then he takes his hand away, leaving Raylan aching and unsatisfied. 

“Are you fucking serious,” Raylan grits out, and Tim’s grin only widens, even though his pupils are so dark Raylan can only see a sliver of blue. The knowledge that Tim isn't unaffected should be a balm, but instead it just drives Raylan's frustration higher.

Tim makes a soft, sympathetic little sound, patting Raylan’s thigh in what he figures is supposed to be sympathy. “You want some ice for that?”

Raylan is going to kill him.

“Fuck you, Gutterson.”

<hr>

By the time Raylan gets home, he’s wired and on-edge and he's got a fucking plan. It's not a complicated one. Really all it involves is getting behind about locked door and fucking his own hand until he finally, finally, can come. 

But as soon as he walks through the door, Jimmy is there, grabbing his hand and leaning up for a kiss, and Raylan's not going to deny him that, not ever. And when Jimmy tugs him out to the living room, Raylan goes just as easily, because… well, because. The thought of help is infinitely more appealing than his existing plan.

Jimmy seems to have a plan of his own, judging from the way he all but shoves Raylan down onto the couch – and it's a plan Raylan is very much on board with. He raises his hips to help Jimmy tug his pants down, and then welcomes the younger man into his arms, leaning up to kiss the eager little smile right from his mouth.

"Lube," he breathes between kisses, but Jimmy just shakes his head, grabs Raylan's hand and guides it back so Raylan can feel where he's already wet and open, ready and waiting.

Raylan groans, deep in his chest, says, "You're my favorite," just to hear Jimmy's delighted little laugh. Then Jimmy sinks down onto him in one smooth, relentless motion, and Raylan feels it in his teeth. 

"All right, baby, all right," he manages, squeezing Jimmy's hips hard enough that he knows there will be bruises later. "Not wasting time, are you?"

"Want you," Jimmy says simply, and - well, how is Raylan supposed to argue with that?

He grits his teeth as Jimmy sets a pace that can only be described as desperate, sheer force of will the only thing stopping him from bucking up into Jimmy's tight heat and chasing his own orgasm. And even with that, it's only a handful of minutes later when he feels that telltale tightening, knows the point of no return is closer than he'd liked it to be. 

It takes every ounce of will he's got left to grab ahold of Jimmy’s hips and still him, to drag himself back from the edge. He’s figured out the game, now, and he’ll be damned if he’s going to disappoint – even if another denial might be enough to bring tears to his eyes. 

"Need a minute," he gasps out. "Just – don't move."

Raylan hears Boyd before he sees him, the measured sound of his footsteps on the hardwood floor. Out of the corner of his eye, Raylan sees him lean up against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets, looking all the world like he just walked in on Sunday brunch, and not Raylan with his pants around his ankles and Jimmy in his lap.

“Now what did I tell you,” Boyd drawls, smooth as molasses, and it’s impossible to miss the way Jimmy tightens, how color starts to bleed down the back of his neck. “Raylan will behave, if he’s got the proper motivation.”

“You’re a bastard,” Raylan grits out, and then leans up to kiss the hinge of Jimmy’s jaw, just to make sure there’s no misunderstanding around who he meant. “I should have fucking known this was your idea.”

Tim appears on the other side of the doorway, and when Boyd lifts his arm, he ducks under easily, tucking himself in against Boyd's side. And even with irritation making his skin hot and his words sharp, Raylan can't help but love the sight of the two of them together. 

Can’t help but wish they were together just a little fucking closer.

Jimmy shifts a little, and Raylan groans, letting his head flop back against the back of the couch. "You can't," he begins, and then makes himself take a deep, steadying breath. "Jimmy, sweetheart, you have to let me catch my breath or I'm going to ruin your fun."

Jimmy grins crookedly, reaches up to run the fingers of one hand through Raylan's hair. "Nah," he says. "This is the fun. No more teasing, I promise. Boyd and Tim got to wind you up - I get to let you go."

"Well, in that case…" Raylan reaches between them, gets a hand on Jimmy's cock. They both groan – Jimmy at the friction, Raylan at how Jimmy bucks his hips to seek it out. "Fuck," he breathes, and Jimmy echoes him with a strangled little whimper.

"Raylan, please," Jimmy whines, like he's the one who's been teased all damn day, but it does the trick. Raylan thrusts once, twice, and comes with a strangled, choked-off gasp, biting his tongue as the pleasure hits him hard enough to make his ears ring and his vision go dangerously dark. And the way Jimmy keeps moving, chasing his own peak, means it doesn't fucking end. It feels like he can't even breathe, not until Jimmy cries out brokenly and comes all over Raylan's stomach.

Raylan bows his head, pressing his forehead to Jimmy’s shoulder, and tries to catch his fucking breath. After a moment, Jimmy’s fingers skim softly up his back. “You good?” he asks, and Raylan groans wordlessly.

“Just fucking peachy,” he croaks after a moment, but it’s worth it for the way Jimmy laughs and presses a kiss to the top of his head – for the way Boyd and Tim settle on either side of them, finally as close as Raylan wants them.

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