#or was it just evident by how I have literally never drawn her in it

[spicyraeman]

took my sick day to work on some post war lae'zel

[vxsellie]

KINDLY, DARLIN' - 𝐸.𝑊

summary. after seemingly endless days on the road, you find yourself at a random country bar in the middle of nowhere. entering with the sole goal of getting your hands on come kind of alcohol, your attention is soon drawn elsewhere. to a girl and her guitar. notes. ok funny story! this idea came to me from a 5 sec interaction i had with a complete stranger. i went out to a bar, gave ten bucks to the singer, & he said the line that the title is based off of , which the prompted my brain to conjure up an entire love story (he's prob double my age lets be so fr) Also! idk if any of u will like this comparison (if not, just ignore this). but, as i wrote this, i imagined ellie's voice like lucy gray's from the hunger game's. like the slight country drawl, strong vocals, yes yes yes yes Also x2! anyone who follows me should know that im absolute SHITTT at writing smut. but, for some reason, that doesn't seem to stop me from creating works of garbage for my own amusement. anyway, if you reach the smut & realize that it's literal trash, i won't blame u for clicking off of this. just a warning! warnings. brief mention of creepy old men at the bar, depictions of alcohol, public flirting ???, eventual smut, drunk sex in a bathroom LMAO, oral (r! receiving), fingering (r!receiving) wc. 5.1k

𝓕uck your back hurts. Well, if you're being honest, everything hurts. Your neck, back, stomach, legs, hands. Everything that's capable of aching, does.

However, rather unfortunately, you suppose that's to be expected after driving for nigh two days straight in your shitty truck. It's a 90s pickup, the white paint peeling and the tires in desperate need of care. The beige seats are worn and stained, evidence of age having taken its toll on your poor vehicle.

In spite of your truck's needs, you're far more interested in your own ⎯ getting a damn drink.

You're currently coasting through the backroads of some small western town, streets made of dirt and buildings all decrepit. You've never heard of this place before, the name having already slipped your mind due to how utterly foreign it'd been to your mind.

Your headlights cast a yellow glow onto the dirt before you, your tires crunching against fallen leaves and loose rocks. You pass gas stations, wooden homes, dollar stores, an immeasurable amount of churches, and no liquor store. Most shop signs are staked into the dirt, the few billboards all dilapidated in some way ⎯ broken letters, flickering lights, or completely torn from the ground somehow.

Then, by either the grace of God or a wondrous turn of fate, your eyes stutter on a certain sign. A broken wooden one advertising a bar. Your interest is instantly piqued, wheel turning toward the building without hesitation.

You don't give yourself the chance to even think before you're hopping out of your truck and walking into the bar.

The moment you push open the wooden double doors, the sound of boisterous laughter and heavy cowboy boots meet your ears. Perfect.

You stand in place for a moment, craning your neck with narrowed eyes are you examine the atmosphere. To the left, there's a bar with almost every stool occupied by an overweight old man. To the right, there's a pair of barn doors with the word 'restrooms' carved into the wood. In the center of the space, there's bucking machine ⎯ a drunk teenage boy holding on for dear life while his group of friends cackle at him from the sidelines.

Then, on the side of the building opposite you, there's a small stage. It's only elevated a foot or so, wood rotting a bit on the edges. But you hardly care for the conditions of the stage itself. What you find yourself drawn to is the person on it.

In the center is a stool, an auburn haired woman perched atop it with an old guitar situated on her lap. She strums the instrument in an upbeat tempo, leaned forward slightly as she sings into the microphone before her. There's a small crowd in front of the stage, girls admiring and boys whistling.

Considering how run-down this town is, you hadn't expected to stumble across a bar that's so fucking packed. There's barely any open stools at the bar, the bathroom doors are rarely sitting still as people continue to pass through them, the mechanical bull being gifted coins non-stop. But you can't complain.

After so long alone on the road, it's nice to be in such an active atmosphere. It's not calming, of course, but you welcome it lovingly nonetheless.

Watching the auburn for a few moments longer, you then turn on your heel and saunter over to the bar. You're forced to sit beside someone as the lack of stools forbids you from not having a neighbor.

"What can I get'cha, hon'?" The bartender asks you with a tip of his cowboy hat. In his other hand, he wipes the outside of an octagonal glass cup.

"Got any whiskey?" You inquire, leaning your elbows on the sticky countertop.

"Mhm," He hums, turning around to grab a bottle from the shelves behind the bar. He sets the glass onto the counter with a light clink, popping the bottle open. "'N' how would ya like it?"

"Neat."

He nods once more, pouring the liquid into the glass with a flourish before sliding it across the wood toward you. The moment you grab it, he's turning away to tend to another patron. You drink it quickly, downing the glass in one large swig.

As you place the glass back onto the counter, you feel eyes boring into you. Hoping it's someone of interest to you, you turn only to find a duo of old men chuckling at you. Their cheeks are rosy, bellies full ⎯ therefore likely drunk. You roll your eyes as the bartender refills your glass without a word.

Now with an entirely new bit of determination, you down that glass even faster. Another refill. Another singular gulp. Another refill. Another gulp. Another. Another. Another.

You're now swaying a bit atop your stool, feeling pretty good all things considered. The men continue to gossip among themselves, pointing at your ass. You feel disgusted ⎯ not at yourself, but at them for their fucking audacity. Part of you wants to knock their teeth out. But you're not that drunk.

So, instead, you take the mature approach and simply pick up your glass and exit the scene. As you walk away, you hear their chuckles increase and you suddenly regret not punching them.

Your heavy boots thud against the wooden flooring as you walk aimlessly around the bar. You push through an amass of bodies, everyone too drunk to care for your harsh shoving. Then, before you know it, you find yourself situated in the very front of the stage, glass of whiskey in hand.

The woman's voice is laced with a slight country drawl, her boot tapping against the leg of her stool to count the beats of the song. She nods her head as she sings, a small grin lighting her features.

The dim lighting of the bar doesn't do her justice. But you still manage to notice the freckles that dot her face, the cupids bow to her upper lip, the small scar on her right eyebrow. Or maybe you're just drunk and enamored by her. God, what if she finds you creepy? What if she thinks you're some fucking creep? What if she⎯

She looks at you and you swear your heart gives out right then and there. And, if that weren't enough, she winks. You feel your cheeks heat up and you blame it on the alcohol. You down the rest of your whiskey, suddenly feeling very hot. A light chuckle shakes her chest, ringing throughout the space. Nobody else thinks anything of it, of course, all too drunk and preoccupied to give a shit. But you find yourself fantasizing about all the other ways you could make this woman laugh like that again. Oh fuck you are a creep.

In a desperate attempt to salvage the residual bits of dignity you have left, you pull twenty bucks from your back pocket and step forward to drop it into her open guitar case.

She raises a brow, tipping her cowgirl hat in your direction with a smirk. "Thank ya kindly, darlin'."

Somehow, she'd managed to thank you in tune with the song, keeping the beat going without missing a second. It's almost impressive. Okay, it's super impressive. In fact, you feel your heart speeding up again, mind playing on loop the sound of her addressing you. Her country drawl, her smirk, her long fingers grabbing the bridge of her hat. Fuck.

Impulsively, you end up turning on your heel and heading right back to that damn bar. The bartender just grins as he pours you another serving, likely having noticed the flush to your cheeks and the desperation of which you placed the glass down.

"Mind if I give y' some advice?" He asks, leaning forward a bit.

In an act of self pity, you don't have the energy to deny him. "Why the hell not?"

"I ain't gotta clue who you're blushin' over, but my advice is that." He nods toward something behind you. You cast a glance over your shoulder, eyes landing on the bucking machine. You almost laugh, turning back to him with an unimpressed expression. "Listen, y' ain't gotta be good. Y' jus' gotta move your hips right n' I swear he's all yours. Trust me. I've seen it work hundreds of times."

You don't dare to correct him on the gender of your current infatuation, instead deciding to take a few more drinks for a bit of liquid courage. I mean, seriously. How else will you get this woman's attention? Plus, what do you have to lose? You'll never see her again after tonight. The least you could do is try.

After another few drinks, you're staggering over to the mechanical bull with a few coins clutched tight in the palm of your hand. The wait for the stupid thing is way longer than necessary, everyone competing for the longest time lasted on the machine.

You lean your empty hand on the frame of the wooden fence that encircles the rider, watching with reddened eyes as yet another person is flung onto the ground with a heavy thud. He rubs his head with a groan, though his sounds of pain quickly fade into laughter as he brushes off his jeans and stands upright, returning to his boisterous friends with a crooked grin.

Unease begins to lick up your spine, the logical part of your brain wondering why the fuck you're doing this for some country chick you don't even know the name of. You're strong, sure, but your luck would lead you to breaking your neck.

You look over your shoulder casting a glance in the direction of the bar. The bartender gives you two thumbs up, flashing you a grin with missing teeth. As encouraging as that is, what really pushes you to continue is seeing those two old men. They're sitting side-by-side, lustrous smirks on their face as they stare at you, leaning over every few seconds to mutter something in the other's ear. Yeah. Fuck them. You're doing this.

As you make it to the front of the line, you're overcome with naught but confidence. Whether that be due to the sound of the woman's singing growing nearer or the sight of the gross old men, you don't know. Though, honestly, it's likely because of the sheer amount of whiskey you've downed in the past hour.

"Coins." The blonde woman demands, palm of her hand facing you like a bill you've been avoiding. You place the coins into her hand and she opens the gate, hinges squealing as the prior rider stumbles out with a streak of dirt under her eye.

You walk into the ring, feet staggering a bit already from your drunkenness. You hoist yourself onto the bull, situating yourself until you feel a bit less awkward atop the back of the metal animal.

It begins rocking slowly back and forth. You find it easy at first, not really needing to use your hands. You still do, though, not much trusting the machine to not throw you off the moment you let your guard down. It picks up the speed, more. More. More. More. And, before you know it, it's thrashing back and forth. You hold onto the saddle, a dazed smile spreading across your face as you find yourself having fun.

It spins in a circle, your eyes suddenly catching on the woman on stage. She has the perfect view of you from her pedestal, her stool bringing her higher than the crowd just as the bull brings you.

She's still singing into the mic, her voice drowned out by the sound of chatter and cheers ⎯ though you're not sure if they're directed toward you or her at this point.

You've stayed on longer than you anticipated, the ache in your back returning as the bull yanks and dives under you. But you hold on, suddenly remembering the bartender's advice. You don't want to switch up whatever tactic you accidentally built into habit, but the point of this is to get the woman's attention.

So you wait until it spins back around. Then, while her eyes are pinned to yours, you shift a bit, back moving more fluidly as you roll your hips against it. Nobody else would think anything of it, the act so subtle that you simply appear to have altered your position. But she noticed. You know she did. Because her voice caught in her throat, causing her to have to take a sip from her water and apologize into the mic before resuming.

Your confidence spikes at this, suddenly feeling much more egoistical than you did when she was a complete stranger you made eye contact with once. Now you know you have an effect on her.

So you do it again, maintaining eye contact as you roll your hips against the bull suggestively.

Just as before, nobody else pays any mind, far too focused on the fact that you're stayed on for so long to give a fuck about technique. Honestly, if anyone were to notice, it'd be those creepy old men. And, hopefully, they're aware that it's pointed at this woman and now them. Though you doubt they'd care. Creeps like them rarely do.

The singer, with her eyes now pinned to you ⎯ though, everyone's now are ⎯ switches her tone a bit. Her song alters from an upbeat bar tempo with little meaning to having more directed lyrics to a girl with mesmerizing eyes. Again, nobody else picks up on this. She sings about a random girl with stunning eyes, never digressing past that.

But you know; and she knows. And that's all that matters.

She sings a certain line, something more lustful about the way you look at her. Something suggestive about the way she's imagining you. You instantly falter, your grip slipping.

You fall to the ground with a thud, the entire bar making a sound of disappointment and empathy. You don't care, though, not giving a single damn about the bull riding. All you care for is that fucking singer.

You hit the ground, breath knocked from your lungs. You cough, pushing yourself onto your hands and knees. Your head spins, the alcohol finally catching up to you. Another cough is yanked from your heaving chest as you groan.

The blonde coin-collecting woman allows the next person into the ring, not waiting for you to give your say. As the next man enters, he offers you his hand. You, desperate for assistance, take it with a grateful smile. He hauls you to your feet, muttering quick compliments on your performance on the bull. You thank him before brushing past him and exiting the ring with staggering steps.

A few people from the crowd compliment you, offering words of encouragement for the 'next time you go up'. You give them half-hearted smiles, chest still aching slightly from your fall.

You shove through the crowd, nearing the restrooms you'd seen at the entrance. You push the doors open and head into the women's side.

You brace your hands on the edge of the sink, glancing in the mirror for a brief moment ⎯ examining the small cut on your cheekbone and the bruises that are beginning to form on your shoulder and hip. You then lean down, positioning your mouth under the faucet before turning on the water. You drink it, relishing in the taste of cool liquid rather than burning alcohol.

"Mm, look who it is."

You smack your head on the faucet with how quickly you straighten. You groan, rubbing your temple as you turn to face the person standing behind you. The singer. Well fuck, that makes the head smack twenty times more embarrassing.

Somehow, she's even more alluring up close. Her pale green eyes bore into you, lashes lidding them slightly. Her skin is lightly tanned, freckles likely produced from a life spent under the sun. Her forearm has a tattoo covering the rippled skin there, lean muscles adorning the rest of said arm.

You play off your staring by narrowing your eyes at her, "Followin' me, are ya?"

"Nah." She shakes her head, stepping forward to wash her hands in the sink beside yours. She tips her head down, looking at her hands as she scrubs, hat coming to block her face from your view. Unfortunate. "Jus' comin' t' wash the filth off my hands. I wouldn't worry, though, darlin', I'm sure that Smilton boy'll check up on ya."

Your brows furrow at this. "Smillin boy?"

"Smilton." She corrects you rather harshly, looking up to meet your eyes through the reflection of the mirror. "Farmer's boy. Rich. Brunette. Helped y' up after the bull."

Realization hits you like a brick. She's jealous. This woman that you've never met, this woman that you stressed over impressing, this woman that you bruised yourself to get the attention of. She's jealous because some farmer's boy helped you stand up. A smirk tugs at your lips, an idea lighting your mind.

"Hmm," You hum lowly, brushing past her to dry your hands on one of the scratchy white towelettes. "He is quite handsome, ain't he?"

"Suppose." She replies shortly.

Your smirk only deepens, drying your hands achingly slow. Because you know she's aware that she has no right to be jealous. And that only serves to make her more pissed off. How interesting.

"What's his first name, if y' don't mind me askin'?" You speak casually, talking with her as though everything that passed between you two prior to this hadn't happened at all. It's driving her insane and you can tell.

"I dunno." She says, turning the faucet off to dry her hands beside you. "Somethin' with a J?"

"Oh, c'mon," you coo, turning to her with those eyes you know she adores. "I know y' know more than jus' his last name."

She looks away, clearing her throat with a set jaw, "you're right. Know his first initial too. It's a J."

You chuckle lightly, releasing the towelette to trace your fingertips along the soft skin of her bicep. "Yeah? And what's your first initial?"

Her entire body seems to tense, breath hitching in reaction to your touch. She looks at you from under the bridge of her hat, green eyes glinting with something informal. Something unfit for a casual conversation between two strangers in the women's rest room. You feel your heart stutter at the sight, having to make an effort not to fall to your knees before her in this very moment.

"E," is all she whispers.

"Last name?" You whisper back, matching her for quietude.

"Williams." She manages.

You hum, eyes following the movements of your hand. Had you not been so drunk, you'd likely never have the balls to be so flirty to her. But, as it turns out, your intoxication is good for something. Well, something aside from staying on some metal bull.

"How pretty," you whisper, leaning forward so your mouth is now right beside her ear. Your breath fans across her skin as you continue. "Now tell me your full name, will ya?"

Her eyes are pinned to your face, pupils tracing your features as your hand traces her arm. She finds herself mesmerized by you, entranced by your every detail ⎯ the slope of your nose, the curve of your cheek, the arc of your brow, the height of your cheekbones, the line of your jaw. She imagines running her tongue along each of these points, imagines committing your to memory using naught but her mouth.

"Ellie." She replies finally, watching closely as your eyes raise to meet hers. Her heart stutters in her chest at that, as it always does when you make eye contact.

Your gaze flicks between her eyes and lips, hand slowly inching up her arm. "Ellie?"

The sound of her name rolling off your tongue is enough to send a spark of heat to her core. That paired with the way your fingers are lightly tracing up, up, up. You move your hand over her shoulder, along her collarbone, up the side of her neck, and finally rests to cup her cheek in your palm. She leans into the touch, eyes fluttering.

"You're such a fuckin' tease," she mutters, voice low as it's weighed down by desire and a deep need to feel your skin on hers.

You ignore her words and move to lean in close enough that your noses brush. Then, with your breath fanning across her skin, you ask, "this okay?"

She doesn't say anything, instead abandoning the towelette completely and grabbing your face in both her hands. With a sudden sense of ferocity, she presses her lips to yours, pulling your body flush against hers.

"I'll take that as a yes," you chuckle between kisses.

"Quiet," she murmurs, too needy for your touch to have time for conversation. As much as she loves hearing you talk, shed much rather talk via action rather than actual words.

You giggle against her lips, your arms coming up to wrap around her neck. She hums, hat falling to the tiled floor with a light brush. With each passing second, her actions become more and more desirous, suddenly pushing your back against the nearest wall. You let out a huff of air from the impact, your lips quirking up to form a small smile, regaled by Ellie's sudden desperation for you.

She tilts her head, peppering kisses down your chin and along your jaw. They're harsh and hungry, nipping your skin in some places purely to see your brow furrow at the feel of her teeth.

As she trails down to your neck, you tip your head back against the wall and open your eyes to blink up at the wooden ceiling. Your hands fist Ellie's hair as she leaves bruises down the column of your throat.

Still well and drunk, the room swirls around you. The lights seem to shift with each blink, making this all so much more intoxicating. Your nerves are already on edge due to the alcohol, so the feel of Ellie kissing them is absolutely maddening.

You feel as she presses kisses along your collarbone, tongue grazing the taut skin there. You shift, legs pressing together as she grows more sensual in her act of quick intimacy. This movement doesn't go unnoticed by her, however, her lips quirking into a small smile against your skin as she feels rather proud of how quick she's turned you to putty under her.

She moves across the bare skin of your chest, plump lips taking time to memorize each detail that adorns you. You move again, the heat between your legs growing harder to ignore.

"Patience, darlin'." She instructs. "I'll get there when I get there."

You frown at this, "well get there faster."

Her kisses suddenly cease, looking up at you through her lashes. She tilts her head at you innocently, blinking as she waits for you to correct yourself. To reword your restive demand. "Don't be rude, now."

You can feel your dignity push at the back of your throat, pride yearning for a moment to speak. Seeing as you're normally the one making orders, this feels quite stranger. But, after the long journey you've taken, you suppose you've earned a bit of time to sit back and let someone else take the lead.

Ellie draws a line of kisses between your breasts and down your stomach, kneeling before you as her head comes to situate itself in front of your waistband. You can't help but admire how she looks from here, hair in your hands as her eyes are pinned to your denim jeans as though it's a buffet and she's a man starved. After a moment, she lifts her head to look at you.

Eye contact. Sparks shoot through your body. Somehow, something as simplistic as meeting Ellie's gaze can make you feel indescribably nervous. Pale green irises bore into you, waiting for you to utter words of consent. You do so, giving her the go-ahead.

As soon as you do, Ellie wastes no time hooking her fingers through your belt loops and pulling your jeans to your knees. She leans forward, eyes lidded.

"Wait." You pant, tugging on her hair to halt her movements. She seems rather annoyed by your sudden interruption, but looks up at you kindly despite her own irritation. You rolls your eyes at her evident pique. "What if someone walks in?"

She sighs heavily at that. "I locked the door."

"Oh, okay." You nod. Though, just as she's about to lean forward again, you stop her once more. "Wait. How did you know to lock it? You were all pissy when you first came in here."

"I didn't know." She explains hastily. "I simply hoped."

You huff out a chuckle, shaking your head fondly at her admittance. Then, finally, you don't stop her when she leans forward.

She traces her tongue along the outside of your underwear, the fabric between you only adding to the pulsing in your pussy. A shiver wracks through you, causing Ellie to grab you by the hips to hold you still. She traces circles into your hips with her thumbs, a gentle motion when compared to the needy movements of her tongue as she draws small circles into your clit.

You tighten your grip on her hair, drawing a grunt from the back of her throat. The vibrations from her mouth against your pussy makes it hard to keep back your own noises.

When she finally shifts your panties to the side, you nearly collapse at the feel of her mouth against you. She licks a long stripe up your vulva, a shaky breath yanking from you. The sound only urges her further, taking one hand and drags her middle finger up your center. You shift, leaning heavily against the wooden walls as standing upright suddenly seems impossible. Then, without warning, two fingers shove right into your hole.

Your hips jolt, moving far more than initially seeing as Ellie is now only holding on with one hand. Whilst thrusting her fingers in and out of your needy pussy, her tongue circles your clit with that same neediness, mirroring you for desperation.

Your head falls back, thudding lightly against then wall. At the sound, Ellie ceases. You almost whine at her sudden stopping.

"My eyes are down here, darlin'." She says lowly. "Let me see you."

Begrudgingly, you oblige, lowering your head to make eye contact with Ellie. She's on her knees, legs folded against tiled flooring as she resumes her lapping. You huff out an airy moan as you have to actively stop yourself from tipping your head back again. She holds your gaze the entire time, adding to the intensity of the feel. Her eyes are lidded, shoulder moving as her fingers recommence.

This all paired with your dizzy head and swimming vision makes for quite the climax, core knotting progressively as Ellie doesn't dare to stop. "Fuck," you pant as you buck your hips against her face, forced to watch as you do so. With another heavy breath and an arching back, you utter, "I'm⎯"

She seems exponentially proud as she hears you say this, regardless of if you finish your sentence or not. She pauses only for a moment to say, "yeah?"

"Mhm," you hum, though it comes out more of a moan than anything.

"Do it, darlin'."

And you do, coming undone right atop her face. She, admittedly, relishes in it, hydrated only by what you're able to provide her with. You see stars and they're swimming too, circling your head in a celestial body of pleasure. And Ellie watches, for once allowing your head to fall back as she deems this a one time exception. Because there will be a next time.

You're panting as you lower your head to face her once more, her gaze never having left your expression. She makes out with your pussy sensually as to bring you down from your high. Then, as gently as she can, she situates your panties back on correctly and pulls your jeans to rest as your hips, remaining knelt in front of you as she zips and buttons them just as she'd found them.

You watch with a twinkle of fondness behind your irises, unable to look away from the expression of adoring concentration she wears. She then uses your hips as a support system to haul herself back to her feet, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips. You can nigh taste yourself on her.

"Not bad for a stranger at a sketchy bar." You muse, picking her hat from the floor and situating it atop her auburn tufts of hair. She watches you, analyzing your every move.

"I'm not just a stranger." She reminds you as your eyes find hers, your hands coming to drape around her shoulders. "I'm a stranger who wrote a song about you."

"Mm," you hum, "so you're a stalkers stranger?"

"I prefer the term passionate." She says, shooting you a playful scowl.

You chuckle, "passionate for what? Stalking and preying on drunken women?"

"Pfft-" She scoffs. "You're not drunk."

For a moment, you consider agreeing with her. To save her the pain of realizing you hadn't been sober for this. But you know better than to lie to her. So, through lidded eyes ⎯ ones that should have been a rather telltale sign of your intoxication ⎯ you give her a look, not even needing to voice the truth aloud for her to understand.

"Well fuck." She groans, taking a step backward and causing your arms to fall to your sides.

Frankly, you'd expected her to be much more angered than that. Because you know you would be. After writing a song, chasing down, then tongue-fucking someone in the bathroom, the worst news to receive would be that they'd been wasted the entire time.

"I'm sorry," you're quick to apologize, for some reason feeling the need to earn her forgiveness.

"How're you planning to get home?" She asks.

"I hadn't thought about that." You admit.

"How about this," she suggests, "I give you a place to stay to apologize for fucking you while drunk and you let me take you to dinner tomorrow to apologize for not telling me beforehand. Deal?"

A smirk works its way to your mouth, "deal."

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[revehae]

behind closed doors

pairing ↠ haechan x you x jeno

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, stepcest, slight noncon, (uncreative) degradation, unprotected sex (i literally forgot about the existence of condoms, oopsies), brief choking, slapping, posessive!jeno

summary ↠ to the world, you're an amazing daughter and sister who's surely only awaited upon by heaven. to your stepbrothers, you're nothing more than an actress and a whore with a secret to keep.

wc ↠ 4.5k

don't like it, don't read.

the rules set in stone for you - all three of you - were unspoken, though clear. the line was drawn and you were expected to adhere to it. 

to say you tried would be debatable. you were not as naive and oblivious as you seemed, that much was apparent to your step-brothers. you played the role well; the docile, loving sister and daughter, that followed the line drawn before her with straight steps. never gave your parents any problems, and if anything, your devotion to your academics and lack of evident rebellious nature was the sheer opposite of that. they would give you that much. but they knew all too well that behind an attentively-crafted character, a façade if not anything else, you were merely a renegade of convention.

as were they.

that was how it all began - with your façade being beaten to the ground until only your true self stood. haechan was the first to catch on. for a moment, you managed to have even him fooled by your acts of naivety. you never seemed to notice how lewd your actions appeared in the leering eyes of a man, even a man that was, by law, your brother.

haechan could name every last thing that drove him crazy. when you wore shirts around the house you sometimes tended to be braless, and your nipples would press through the fabric for a couple of reasons. other times, your tits would simply bounce if you moved around too much. how some of your underwear was always left on top of your laundry basket when it was his week to do the laundry. your innocent actions that he couldn’t help but perceive as dirty, or the skimpy clothes that left little to imagination. haechan was certain he saw your cleavage more often than he saw his parents. and you all lived in the same house. 

and that was to be brief. either you were really, truly oblivious, or you were doing this on purpose.

obviously, it was the latter.

it didn’t take haechan long to figure out. honestly, he tried to give you the benefit of the doubt, but there was a creeping suspicion in his chest that kept him on his toes. and he was certain of your motive one day. 

that night, you asked him if he wanted to watch some movies with you. that in itself wasn’t suspicious - you loved your family bonding time - and haechan didn’t turn the offer down. but you were again braless in one of his t-shirts that you had borrowed a while back and had yet to return. which was fine by him; he liked seeing you in his clothes, not unbeknownst to you. you snuggled close to him, seemingly innocently, but he saw the poor attempt of hiding your grin when you noticed him shift.

and then a couple movies later, you fell asleep, your head falling against him. he took advantage of the opportunity, letting you slip entirely into slumber before gently lying you against the sofa. slowly but surely, he slipped your underwear down to your ankles, looking attentively at your face as he pushed your thighs apart just enough to move between. it didn’t surprise him in the slightest to find that you had already soaked through your panties. you seemed distracted throughout the movie, and by now it was very obvious what was plaguing your mind.

haechan tugged at his own clothes and eventually slid into you. he tried to be slow, to draw it out, and at first he did. he held his breath during the first couple of thrusts, but ultimately couldn’t help but let out a sound or three. that was what roused you. you blinked, not entirely comprehending what was happening until your eyes focused on the moving figure between you.

“hyuck, wha… stop it-“ 

haechan didn’t hesitate to cut you off, placing one of his palms squarely over your mouth. “shut up,” he said underneath his breath, watching you weakly squirm. “don’t act like you weren’t begging for this.”

you gulped, chest heaving. honestly, he had to commend you. if he hadn’t known that you were bullshiting him right now, he would have sincerely believed that your round eyes gleamed of genuine innocence and surprise. but you were nothing if not a performer.

haechan’s hand moved from your mouth to under your - his - shirt, that had already ridden up your stomach. your lower half was completely exposed to the air, and he went up to fondle with your breasts, moving at the impact of his every thrust. you stifled your sounds, not yet wanting to give him that pleasure. you could tell he already had you figured out, though, if his words were any indication.

“jeno’s down the hall,” you whispered, biting at the fear you pretended was installed within you. if anything, you would have liked it if he caught you - if he joined you. but that was a different, later chapter of the story.

haechan didn’t buy it, obviously enough, although he replied, “then, you better be real quiet for me, got it?”

you nodded in response. the most amusing part, to haechan, was that you hadn’t even attempted to fight him away. you didn’t even try to deny wanting this all along. he assumed that you would have likely put some effort into pretending as if this wasn’t what you were subtly working your way towards, but you didn’t.

save for your fake surprise. of course, you weren’t shocked to find him buried between your legs. you knew what you were doing; you had been trying to lure him there this whole time. his hungry eyes and evident arousal never went unnoticed by you. he tried to hold back, maybe because he wasn’t always sure, but he was no better than you. you knew men, and before anything else, haechan was simply that. a man could never resist his temptations.

“wore this to fuck with me, didn’t you?” he asked, voice low, though he already knew the answer. you resisted a grin; of course you did. haechan wasn’t subtle; not that he intended to be. “would do anything to get a dick in you.”

you shook your head in denial, tears emerging in your eyes. not out of pain or discomfort - as the slight addition of that was your pleasure - but out of relief. you were so relieved that the wait was over, and god, was it worth it.

haechan ran a hand through his hair and chuckled quietly. “no? so you didn’t wear my shirt on purpose? didn’t do it to make this easier for me? you don’t make sure i can see your tits every goddamn day like some kinda whore? yeah right, you fucking slut.”

you couldn’t battle the moan, clenching around him tightly. it was your dream to have him talk to you like that. 

“there you go,” he said, amused by your failure to conceal your pleasure. “you were laying all up on me, making sure i could feel you. you aren’t fucking slick.”

you whimpered, “i‘m close, hyuck,” his words very evidently getting to you. his efforts to wear at your cracking façade finally rewarded him with the treasure lying beneath the surface.

“yeah, is that what you want? you want me to make you cum?” haechan teased, watching the way you bobbed your head needily in response. 

he tried to conceal his laughter, given jeno was only just down the hall, probably fast asleep. in spite of the fact that it was late, it was a weekday. miraculously, neither of your parents were home, and if it weren’t for the fact that he wanted to keep this a secret from his brother he would have gone stupid with you. it wasn’t that haechan was startled or even intimidated by the thought of jeno discovering what was happening right under his nose - he knew his brother well, details that even you couldn’t imagine - or even acting out of selfishness. even if not right away, he knew jeno would eventually catch on. he was always good at sniffing out lies and deception. but haechan simply wanted him to learn for himself, feasting on his brother’s inevitable reactions.

“cum,” haechan commanded, his voice hardly above a whisper. “before i don’t let you.”

you ultimately did reach your climax, convulsing underneath his body. you bit your lip, and too back a cry of your step-brother’s name. it was straight out of a dream, more specifically an erotic one, and you were convinced that you were dreaming as you lay there weakly, watching haechan continue to use your body.

haechan came subsequently, although not by much. in favor of not ruining the couch and leaving a trail, he pulled out, resorting to finishing himself with his fist and shooting spurts of cum on your face.

he didn’t hesitate to whip out his phone, not even bothering to ask permission to photograph you and your only warning was a “say cheese” before he was snapping photos of you. you glanced at him, almost panicked, and though he couldn’t tell if it was out of genuine concern, he assured, “don’t worry, baby. no one will see how much of a whore you are except me - for now.”

for now.

haechan was kind enough to help you clean yourself up before he left, but he didn’t leave without firmly mentioning, “this won’t be the last time.”

bearing that knowledge in mind, it was difficult to fall back asleep that night.

true to his word, that night wasn’t the last time, but the beginning of your sexcapades. it wasn’t a one-time or two-time thing; it was happening more frequently than you could count with your fingers and toes combined. haechan became accustomed swiftly, never missing his chance to drag you away for a fucking whenever you could get away with it. if it was only the two of you in the house, rest assured you would be fucking like hounds. sometimes he’d slip into your room in the middle of the night, not always while you were awake. whenever he could get his hands on you, he would.

haechan wasn’t the only needy one, though. of course not; that had already been established. more often than not, you found yourself wet and begging for his touch. your acts of seduction didn’t end there and you’d take it up a notch, sometimes walking into his room in merely a towel after a shower and asking if you could borrow one of his shirts (nevermind the fact that you were gradually developing a collection of his shirts and hoodies that you had no intention of returning). if the water glistening on your skin wasn’t enough, maybe once or twice you had dropped the towel, innocently insisting that it wouldn’t be a problem because he had already seen everything, right?

needless to say, it would end with you on his bed.

all of the sneaking around would have gone on for weeks by now. no one had caught on - that, you were almost certain. you had been doing so well, learning how to keep quiet in spite of how difficult it was. your image was still steady.

it was late when you stepped into the kitchen. yet again, your parents were out on business, and it was solely you and your step-brothers, who they expected to take care of you. nonetheless, you were confident that they were asleep, given the hour.

but when you felt someone wrap their arms around you from behind, hands steadily falling to knead your ass, you realized you were wrong. guess haechan’s not sleep, you thought, probably been up playing video games. all without sparing him a glance, you very lightheartedly told him, “haechan, stop.”

“haechan, hm?”

on a dime, you whirled around and froze. you knew your brothers’ voices’ very well, and that was certainly not haechan’s.

it was jeno that you were faced with when you turned around, who had his hands in his pockets now. he tilted his head. “you let haechan touch you like that?”

“no—”

whatever semblance of calm jeno held dissipated on a dime; he shut the refrigerator and roughly pressed you into the surface, his breath heavy on your neck as he whispered, “i don’t like being lied to - you know that.”

you had no response to offer him. jeno had genuinely caught you off-guard, and though you expected some type of confrontation eventually, not now, not like this. instead, you swallowed hard, half-feigning the fear in your eyes as you struggled to hold eye contact with him.

jeno basked in the way your body trembled, unhurriedly trailing his eyes and fingers down your figure. somehow you simultaneously amused and angered him. part of him was entertained to see your body react with something like terror, but the other was busting at the seams with ire as he noticed you were wearing his brother’s hoodie. it always pissed him off to see you in haechan’s clothes.

as cliché as it sounded, you felt like prey at the mercy of a predator, waiting for him to make his move while being painfully aware of the fact that you could never counter it even if you wanted to. he began to steadily roll up the hoodie with a single finger, and though you attempted to swat his hand away, he yanked your weak hands away with ease, pinning them above your head. it was so pathetically futile that it had to be deliberate. “at least try to be convincing,” jeno teased, using his other hand to continue his movements.

the pace was tormenting; he took his sweet, precious time to roll up your - haechan’s - hoodie, more and more of your flesh being exposed to the cool air piece by piece until your bare chest was left wide open. “nothing underneath?” jeno mimicked a gasp of mock surprise, groping your breast in his palm. “you wore this for haechan, too, huh?”

the thought of what would happen if you continuously lied to his face piqued your curiosity, however you weren’t sure if you wanted to test your luck yet. instead, you bobbed your head, whimpering at the feeling of his hands.

“thought you were a good girl,” jeno sighed. if it wasn’t for the fact that he had been onto you for a while now, all of this would have been shocking. you maintained such a clean image that no one would have suspected a girl like you had such a filthy secret. except for jeno; he found you as obvious as could be.

“i am,” you insisted, but you knew in your heart it wasn’t all that true.

“liar,” he hissed, shoving his hand down your shorts. you bit your lip when he cupped you through your underwear, trying your best to suppress a noise. “if you were good, you wouldn’t be wet for me.”

that alone should have been humiliating, and it was, but it being your stepbrother who had you aroused didn’t exactly stop either of you. any of you. you tried to combat a moan when you felt his fingers pressing against you, but you couldn’t resist.

which broke the last of jeno’s resolve. he grabbed you by the arm and dragged you upstairs, ignoring you telling him to “slow down,” or that he was holding you “too tight,” or that “it hurts.” you knew no pain. it hurt knowing that haechan had gotten to you before he even got the chance. and tonight, he had something to prove.

jeno wasn’t very gentle with you from that point forward. he forced you against the wall - specifically the one adjacent to haechan’s bedroom wall. he was going to use your body to make a statement, and a very loud one at that. you squirmed in his hold, but you were helpless; years of physical activity paid off on his end and your attempts to fight him off - whether you were genuinely using all of your strength or not - were effortlessly overpowered. god, was that arousing. jeno gripped you by the neck and threatened, “behave, or i’ll hurt you more than i have to.”

that made you instantly still and jeno continued to pry at your clothes until he was satisfied. you didn’t wear anything much, merely the hoodie, the least lengthiest of shorts, and a pair of panties. he didn’t hesitate to free himself from his sweats, stroking himself fully hard in his fist. you could only eye him with so much pent-up desire, begging him to end the wait.

jeno had also been a subject of your depraved fantasies, although you thought that he would have been significantly harder to crack. which was why you very strategically went for haechan first. jeno had a jealousy issue that he masked as playing the role of the protective, older brother. in that sense, he was not all too different from you. but you were aware that he despised seeing his little stepsister with other men and haechan was no exception to that. your plan was soiled - you intended to make him jealous by going out with one of his friends - but you weren’t necessarily complaining. the sooner you could get his dick in you, the better.

jeno lifted you against the wall and when you felt his dick brushing against your folds, you held on to your breath for dear life. “prove to me that you’re a good girl by taking it,” he told you, forcing himself into you with one sharp thrust.

and jeno fucked you right against that wall, doing everything in his power to make everything you were doing at the moment painfully obvious and loud; ensuring your body was thrashing against the wall, slapping you anywhere to make you squeal, or thrusting harshly into you to earn a cry from between your lips. haechan had to be awake, and you could only pray your neighbors weren’t. as gratifying as this was to jeno, he was again met with ire upon the realization that you given this experience away. not only was being inside you a pleasure, feeling the way you squeezed around him like your life depended on it, but outwardly, it was something else. he adored the way you were so pathetically helpless against him, incapable of saving yourself from being used. most especially by someone who was expected to look after you. 

in a way, he was. but it wasn’t very conventional. he wanted you, and he wanted to be the only one who dare got to have you.

there was a bit of tension amongst the three of you that following morning. neither were surprised to see you ignore it or continuing to be innocent. you sprung into the living room with a spring in your step - obviously cheerful about something -  and greeted them joyously, kissing their cheeks as usual. if you caught the mood in the room you had suddenly intruded, you didn’t show any sign, but there was really no way you hadn’t. the look on their faces was unignorable.

haechan pulled you down onto his lap, ignoring your tiny noise of surprise and attaching his lips to your neck. “mornin, princess,” he whispered.

your gaze met the sinister, exasperated one of jeno’s, eyes boring holes through the flesh of you and haechan. it was paralyzing; you could only sit there and swallow hard, shifting your eyes anywhere else.

“i see you two had fun last night without me,” haechan remarked, biting back a snicker. he could tell without sparing a glance that his brother was not pleased.

“we did,” jeno replied curtly. “did you expect an invitation?”

“would’ve been nice,” chirped haechan. “it’s all good, though. we have a lot of fun on our own, too. isn’t that right, princess?” he grinned, his eyes on you the whole time. meanwhile, he was rubbing your bare thigh - courtesy of your less than lengthy shirts - and you had to bite your lip, begging yourself not to make a sound. jeno was already on the brink of breaking something.

instead, you very reluctantly bobbed your head, not daring to glance at jeno although you couldn’t ignore the feeling of him looking at you.

haechan crooned, “use your words.”

you gulped before doing so, wetting your throat that had so suddenly gone dry during the past couple of minutes. “yeah. yeah, we do,” you stammered, doing everything in your power to avoid looking at your other stepbrother.

jeno couldn’t bear it any longer and stormed off, and you knew that you were in for it tonight.

everything continued this way - haechan would be indifferent towards your affairs concerning jeno, but he’d deliberately make his brother jealous for the sake of it. in response, jeno’s temper would manifest in the rough manners he used you, fucking every hole of your body with no remorse. it was your very definition of heaven. going back and forth between your brothers was, at one point in time, merely a dream to you.

ultimately, however, jeno’s sudden discovery didn’t deter you from your original plans. you had no clue how he maintained his composure before then - because obviously he had been aware for a while - but you were tempted to poke the dragon. and you did.

“and where the fuck are you going?” jeno asked when you strutted into the living room, checking your makeup for the fiftieth time in your pocket mirror. you were dolled up, wearing the skimpiest dress with every level of you styled. which, paired with the frequency of which you were re-checking your appearance, could have meant only one thing at this hour.

your mom pointed at him from the island and yelled, “language, jeno!”

haechan snickered and you stifled a laugh of your own, but not for that reason; because you knew he wasn’t pleased with you. “what’s it look like? i’m going on a date, dummy,” you replied, sticking out your tongue. 

“don’t talk to your brother like that, y/n,” chided your mom, hands on her hips. she had always pushed the family agenda, though neither of you were technically related, save for you and your mother and them and their father.

“sorry, mom,” you apologized, forcing your most genuine tone. normally you would have been on your best behavior, but you were very intent on provoking jeno. and though he did well at concealing it - courtesy of your mother’s presence for once - you saw right through him and knew he was seething at the core.

haechan seemingly was intent on joining your little scheme, and pressed with a stupid smile on his face, “a date with who?”

“you guys know mark,” you replied to haechan, but you were looking straight at jeno, looking for a crack in his calm demeanor. bearing in mind the potential of his anger, memories flashing in your head, it was almost scary how collected he was; or seemed. “he should be here in a couple of minutes.”

mark was a mutual friend of theirs. you were almost surprised he hadn’t mentioned to either of your stepbrothers that he was taking you out on a date, but it worked perfectly. you got to capture jeno’s reaction in real-time.

“lee scored you?” haechan, incredulous, laughed, like it was the most bizarre thing he had ever heard. jeno laughed too, but not out of amusement. it was anger. “man, good luck. you’re gonna need it.”

you giggled. for some reason, you had a feeling it wasn’t mark he was implying you would need luck with. “please. i’ll be fine.”

the doorbell rang merely moments later, and while haechan told you to have fun and your mother told you not to stay out too late, jeno was deadly silent. part of you was scared when you got into that car with mark, but the other was thrilled.

when you got back home, all of the lights were out and your parents' cars were yet again gone. after kissing mark goodnight, you turned your key into the lock, and it wasn’t until he had pulled off that you felt arms wrap around you. you shrieked, and their hand went over your mouth. “quiet,” jeno growled in your ear.

you complied. with jeno’s palm over your mouth, it would have been useless not to, anyways. “walk,” he ordered, and you did as told, letting him lead you upstairs. you winded up in his bedroom and only then did he release you, but there haechan was waiting, tossing a baseball into the air impatiently. that honestly took you by surprise.

“you sure took your sweet time,” haechan spoke directly to you, finally sitting the ball down. you assumed he had been waiting for a while now. “thought your mom told you not to stay out too late. or did you do that on purpose?”

from the mischievous smile on his face, you had a feeling he was trying to get you into more trouble. you didn’t answer, knowing you were in enough already. but that was the fun part. 

jeno pushed you onto the bed, resulting in another surprised noise from you. “jeno-”

“i don’t want to hear it,” jeno interjected, lunging forward to unzip your dress. the moment you tried to stop him, haechan reached for your arms and held you down. now you saw what this was; they were teaming up against you. “i was being lenient about you and haechan, you know - let you two fuck like rabbits all around this place and didn’t say a word - but now you’ve really tested my kindness. you talk slick to me, go on a date with one of my friends dressed like a whore, and then come back late. did all that to piss me off, didn’t you?”

“no, i-“

jeno slapped your cheek. “lie again.”

by now, there were tears brimming your eyes. you could only look to haechan for mercy, as if he was any better, but being of the same blood, he and jeno were as similar as they were different. what he lacked in possessiveness he compensated with his potential to be just as cruel whenever he wanted to be. maybe indirectly, he was being cruel this whole time. surely there was no way he wasn’t aware of how jeno reacted every time he noticed the two of you fucking around.

jeno seemed to notice this and laughed dead in your face. “haechan’s not gonna save you, babe. you think he’s any better than me? he wouldn’t be here right now if we weren’t the same.”

that you knew. it didn’t take a genius to tell that haechan and jeno were essentially cut from the same cloth. the main difference that you could pin was that haechan had a more verbal violence, while jeno leaned towards physical. though that didn’t mean they didn’t teeter across those borders.

“he’s right, ya’know,” haechan snickered. “this is what little sluts like you get.”

jeno took advantage of haechan holding you down, moving to remove your panties. and for someone who was squirming so much as if you didn’t want any of this, they were drenched. jeno could only chuckle at that. 

“no, no - ‘m sorry,” you balked, but jeno ignored you and haechan shook his head. 

“you’re not sorry yet,” haechan told you, ominous as ever. “but you’re gonna be.”

you were counting on it.

[vendetta-if]

Hi! Sorry if you've already answered this but what does each RO feel and think about MC path of either Justice or Revenge? (Heir path)

(Love to see what everyone else thinks as well)

I'm just curious to know what Rin truly thinks about MC going for revenge, because I feel like he's a bit reluctant? But also, an heir to a crime family going for justice? (Giving him over to the police after getting enough evidence to convict him) I can't really see him approve that, either.

I'm also curious of what their "preferred" heir MC is, Ruthless or Merciful, admired or feared etc.

Am definitely curious to know how that affects Ash as well. I love my little psycho MC (Definitely some Jinx vibes going on there) but then I get concerned and worried when I see Ash being like "Whoa, so cool! Never seen a body rain blood before, awesome! Whoo, murder! 🥳"

Then i'm like "Wait... No, this is bad Ash, BAD! Blood rain isn't awesome! It's horrifying! It's literally what happens in the APOCALYPSE! That's it, we're going to have a long talk when we get home about Wrong and Right!"

...then later when she gets her birthday present she'll giddily ask Luka if she can try torturing him too 😭

I feel so conflicted when Ash asks MC about what she will do with the killer... Then says what he wants, which is exactly the same, so I can't really tell him not to do the same... But it makes me so concerned every time, and guilty.

I don't want to bring my sweet, beloved firecracker down and even darker path than the one we're already on 😭

Ash and Rin prefer revenge to justice (letting the justice system do what it was supposed to do a long time ago). Probably because of the families and environment that they’re both raised and live in, they believe retaliation against such personal slight should be taken into their own hands.

However, whereas Ash’s revenge might be explosive and impulsive as they chase the quickest way to personally get their hands on the one who wronged them, Rin’s revenge is cold and calculating.

It’s full of reckoning, scheming, and pulling of strings behind the scenes and they’re content to let others to do the dirty work. They don’t really care about seeing the one who wronged them face-to-face and kill them with their own hands like Ash does.

That doesn’t make their revenge less personal though, and dare I say, sometimes, their revenge ends up being more drawn-out and torturous for the poor schmuck. The true definition of “revenge is a dish best served cold”.

And Rin does prefer Ruthless MC in the sense that they both have a more similar mindset. Of course, they’ll still love Merciful MC the same, but being with such kind MC makes them highly protective of them since they don’t want to see them get hurt or taken advantage of.

They’ll do whatever it takes to keep MC safe behind MC’s back, doing the necessary things that Merciful MC might not have the heart to do themself. Same thing with Ash as well, which is why in the Ash/MC/Rin poly, Ash and Rin will actually become really close and trusted confidantes of each other because they—almost all of the time—have the same mindset and overarching goal.

Santana and Skylar, of course, prefer justice and letting the right people dispense due punishment. Although, a more cynical Santana might not be too opposed to MC having revenge as well since they’ve seen firsthand how corrupt and sometimes incompetent the system is; they can’t really blame MC and the Morozovs to want to take matters into their own hands.

And as for your last sentence about Ash… 🥺 They’ll gladly walk with MC down a darker path. They actually feel they are already walking down that path a long time ago, especially since they accepted working as the Family’s enforcer… 😥

[yameoto]

yam love love love that analysis on cate you just posted and was curious what your thoughts are on queers (lesbians in specific obviously) reading her as a closeted lesbian going through comphet?

tbh i could talk about this for hours but would just like to say that she legitimately had queen maeve posters all over her childhood bedroom lol didn’t believe that soldier boy shit for a SECOND.

comphet reading of cate dunlap ft. mariecate

TLDR so u don’t have to read the whole thing; all of cate’s relationships with men are overall fake and do not revolve around love, rather the forging of an idealised identity formed around media (comphet Classic). cate’s only real raw genuine untainted relationship is with a woman. ft. mariecate

id love to my favourite hobby is looking at characters through a orangepinkwhite tinged lens. cate’s relationship with luke fits the comphet bill almost too well. firstly, cate being locked up her whole childhood means the formation of identity would be entirely based on media. a very heteronormative landscape of media, which aligns with traditional comphet. you could say her relationship with luke—literally golden boy—is comphet based, the ‘gold standard’ for a relationship cate’s drawn from all that she’s consumed in her childhood years. effectually, cate’s entire early life was robbed of her. and here, she achieves her perception’s ‘perfect’ idea of a life through luke, and forms her entire identity around him (hence her desperation to keep him). this is especially evident in the fact she changed her major to ‘hero management’ just to support luke’s career. to fully commit in shadowing him, for the rest of her life.

except, it’s fake. the entire relationship is fake. by the time of the show, cate has erased and changed and warped luke’s memory, his identity to the point where his mind breaks by the pilot. the fauxness and dysfunction of luke/cate’s relationship despite their image of unattainable perfection is probably her largest comphet indicator. maybe she loved him (not enough to remain faithful, however), but it reads as more of a subconscious love of what he represented, and something to anchor her identity to, which she’s never had a chance to form. as well as a means as to gain shetty’s affection and trust, no matter if she thought it was for his own good or not. her relationship with luke was poisoned, for a multitude of reasons.

(sidenote: cate/luke comphet reminds me of jiper comphet down to the false memories piper’s charmspeak and jason as the golden boy who literally explodes so like. there’s that’s free tidbit for anybody who is tapped the fuck in.)

cate has been so deprived of love she seeks it wherever she can find it. hence her stint with andre, which obviously ends in shambles because it’s foundations are already shaky, considering she’s cheating on luke with him, and andre is fucking his best friend’s girlfriend, but is also disingenuous, because cate’s compulsion powers arguably affect andre the secondmost to luke (though, by a wide margin). these are her two only romantic interests, and they suffer the worst consequences of it.

enter.. marie moreau. and cate’s relationship with marie is more genuine than any of her romantic relationships, which i think is the most telling thing. cate and marie serve as foils to each other: both in the manslaughter of their loved ones, the way shetty attempts to use them, and how can you NOT ship two reflections of each other?

in the finale, cate reaches out her hand, and andre can’t take it, because he doesn’t trust her. you can’t blame him. inversely, marie is the one always reaching out to cate, who is constantly defending cate’s intentions and her motivations to the others—when cate doesn’t deserve the benefit of doubt. partly, it’s because marie has known cate the least amount of time, making the betrayal sting the least. but also, cate’s relationship with marie is also the one least tainted by her compulsion powers; marie is the least affected by cate’s manipulations (to love her, to stay with her), and yet, despite marie not being compelled to do so; she still retains her faith in cate. that cate is good. that cate can be good, which is a fact not even cate believes in.

marie actively sees through cate’s compulsion, and later, nulls it. there’s a reason why marie is the one to discover cate’s betryal. there’s also a reason why marie is the one to blow cate’s arm off when saving jordan. in the same episode that cate reaches out and andre draws away, marie reaches out to cate, and cate draws away. that is a very direct comparison. it also speaks to cate’s larger unwillingness to accept love that is untainted, either fear she herself will ruin it, or because she doesn’t think she deserves it.

anyways, all this to say that yes, cate could totally be read as comphet. and mariecate is totally metal as they are, romantically involved or not.

[sneakyboymerlin]

Some people don’t seem to get the gist of Gwaine’s character so let me break it down:

Gwaine deciding that Arthur is worth defending as a king and wanting to repay him for saving his life… does not mean that he loves Arthur the way he loves his literal best friend. Gwaine is deeply bound by his sense of morality, and his moral compass points him to Arthur. The anger with which Gwaine responds to threats against Arthur is identical to his response when, say, the Cailleach laughs at the knowledge that innocent people are dying because of her own inaction. Gwaine posits himself as a defender of good, and Arthur proved himself to be “noble” in his eyes. Ergo, he protects Arthur, as he protects civilians.

All in all, there is nothing really personal to their bond, just as there is little personal about Gwaine’s duty to the people of Camelot. Gwaine and Arthur have a begrudging respect for each other, and both have a sense of duty to ensure that the other does not come to harm. This dynamic does not need to be construed as anything other than what it is, but since we have been conditioned to believe that people can only act altruistically given a motive of friendship, romance, or family, their actions are subsequently read as such—contrary to the onscreen evidence.

I cannot stress this enough: this series is based on Arthurian legend. The knights are meant to display chivalry. That is the bond between them.

This differs greatly from Merlin and Gwaine’s dynamic, wherein Gwaine’s attachment does not stem from a sense of duty but, rather, his own personal feelings. He is drawn to Merlin from the start, finds an understanding and emotional support from Merlin that he’s never had with anyone before, and is stunned touched that Merlin hasn’t grown tired of him, despite the burden he’s placed on Merlin’s shoulders since his arrival in Camelot. By contrast, Arthur grew sick of Gwaine… almost immediately, and their dynamic was established as one of mutual duty the moment Arthur said, “He saved my life… He’s to be given anything he needs.” This is very much a discernible difference. An important one, too.

This is the reason that, despite how he is willing to lay down his own life for Arthur as early as 3x04, Gwaine explicitly does not consider him a friend afterwards in 3x08, but does for Merlin.

Furthermore, given Gwaine’s moral code—the very same one he used to judge Arthur as “noble”—Gwaine would indeed side with Merlin over Arthur in the case of a magic reveal (not to mention the fact that Merlin is his friend, he knows that Merlin is good, and he doesn’t want Merlin to be hurt). Gwaine believes that one’s actions determine their goodness, rather than their birth circumstances. Therefore, Merlin being born with magic is not proof that he is corrupt.

Outside of magic reveal scenarios, and despite his sense of duty to Arthur, Gwaine is still shown to put Merlin first. There is nothing wrong with Gwaine placing Merlin above Arthur. It’s not “unfair” to Arthur that Gwaine cares more about Merlin, and it’s not something that needs fixing. Arthur is not entitled to Gwaine’s love or loyalty. It’s beautifully satisfying, both emotionally and narratively, that Gwaine’s loyalty is to a servant first and a king second. That is the entire crux of Gwaine as a character. It is a deliberate choice on the part of the writers, and it’s perfect as is.

[miasudare]

THIS ONE IS IMPORTANT!

This is one of my delusional cotl theories, I worked about a few days for it so don't wait too much. It's very long, just so you know

Today, our subject is the bishops. Though in cult of the lamb wiki's story segment states a few events, no evidence and connection is shown. And considering that wiki pages are written by people, it's not a %100 correct.

Death of bishops

Ever wondered why Narinder is the only bishop you can make a follower before Mystic Sellers appearance? Or why don't the bishops end up with Narinder when they die? Let me tell you.

When we kill a bishop, they don't end in the death realm but end up with Mystic. That's why we can only get them back after being introduced to the seller. They own them.

And Narinder? He already lives in the death realm and if you notice, you don't entirely defeat him until the option segment, his life bar still having a bit of hp. You only hurt with him until he can't fight. When you choose to kill him, he then gets sent to Mystic for us to claim him later on.

Mystic's thoughts

"I recall Leshy. Prior to yourself, he was the last to bargain with me. Adept as he was, he rose quickly to the challenges of Godhood, aided by his siblings. Many were drawn to his chaotic ways."

Mystic Seller seems to observe and know everything that had gone through Leshy's godhood even moments of help from his siblings. Tho, not the first godhood.

"I am not inclined to emotion, the way your kind are. Though if I were, Heket would certainly inspire amusement. She was perhaps the most vicious of them. Wicked beast."

No matter how badly the Mystic Seller spoke of Heket's actions, they seem to find sadistic inspiration in her actions. They do not have characteristics such as emotion, but observation expands their world. Which is weird, because that's probably a look you'd wait for Leshy.

"It did not matter to Kallamar that his ears were lost, for he was never inclined to listen. Foolish though he may have seemed, he wielded the power of his Crown without discrimination."

We all know Kallamar's cowardice. But Mystic does not see this as cowardice and even interprets this fear, which has become a self-protection mechanism, as a strategy. Cause Mystic has no emotions and can't understand fear.

"Shamura and I did not barter much. In truth, they need little from me. Truly, 'twas shame what became of them."

Mystic and Shamura seem to actually talk and have a conversation unlike the other siblings Mystic talks about. And Shamura is the only bishop that Mystic sees higher, thinking that Shamura didn't need them at all.

"A toy for you. Benefactor, comrade, malignant foe... redemption or punishment, 'tis yours to confer as you see fit." Gifts you Narinder as a Follower in his exclusive Follower Form. (Without the immortal trait)

This section is important because Mystic doesn't say anything about Narinder's past. While they normally talk about an event that happened in his siblings' own lives, Narinder doesn't seem to mean much to them. They neither belittle him nor exalt him. Narinder is very unimportant to them.

Now, I'd like to think that Mystic were there. Before the whole argument, it wasn't only the 5 bishops. Mystic saw it, Mystic heard it. Maybe even lived with them. Raised them, even. Mystic Seller, is the creator of them. Yeah. I said it. God of gods. How else can you explain him just replace the very gods you killed and put them back in their purged realms? Or idk, carry the ex god of death by their little tiny winy legs? Literally posses the body of the new god??? Tho, it seems like they are not the same realms anymore as if those places were... Altered.

Shamura. Wanna talk?

Shamura is both refered to as the god of war and god of might, which are quite the opposite of each other.

War, is something that grows from misunderstandings, greed and not thinking straight, which isn't very fit for god of might. And well, that made me think... I think... The bishops didn't/was supposed to have these roles before their fight with Narinder.

"I am not what I once was. Though no longer wise, I am no fool."

Shamura is aware that they are no longer the god of might, yet something another.

So this might mean, before the betrayal, the bishops had opposite godhoods. Or were supposed to have these godhoods.

Kallamar = God of health

Heket = Goddess of abundance

Leshy = God of peace

This makes sense when you consider the people that follow them. Why would someone follow a god who just means nothing but trouble? Even in our cult, we teach people about death and after life, reassure them or teach them. We make sense.

"I introduced him to ideas of change; for my domain is knowledge, and it is ever evolving. An organic state of being for myself, but for him… most unnatural. Death cannot flow backward." -Shamura

This. That green? Yeah that one. That's when Narinder's betrayal happened. Shamura, showed Narinder that there was a way to change things, which Narinder ended up doing so. And what did he do? Death cannot flow backward, he tried to give life. Narinder, the only member in the family that probably ended up with such negative thing as being the god of death, tried to make life.

"Bonds of familial duty, turned instead to chains. Most voracious of appetites, curbed and contained. Most infectious of ideas cut off and cauterised before given chance to rot and spread. Cruel, verily. Alas, what other recourse was given? How does one kill Death? ... Alas. One cannot." -Haro

Haro also seems to confirm this. The infectious ideas said there are, or rather is, Narinder's wish to change. Narinder's idea to change his own godhood. Tho, why would the bishops be so against it?

Notice how Haro has a "fallen" crown? Haro, probably back in the day, was the owner/god of Darkwood at some point. His unused animation also looks a lot like Leshy's transformation animation.

Haro, is possibly the first god that tried to change their godhood. In return, he got punished by loosing his crown and getting expelled from his godhood. This would explain why Leshy is the youngest, because he was a replacement.

"But as millennia wore on, he grew discontent with his role. He began to question. He was gluttonous in his ambition. And in my imprudence I loved him. For it, I lost my mind. For it, he lost his freedom. Can you fathom such betrayal, Lamb?"

Shamura knew what happened to Haro. After showing Narinder that there was a way to change things, they regretted it. Shamura genuinely loved their brother, no matter if it was by blood or by creator. The idea of Narinder might end up like Haro was what made Shamura loose their mind. Killing Narinder wasn't a punishment, it was a way to protect him and the remaining ones. The betrayal Shamura say is not Narinder's hostile acts but rather the way he thinks even tho Shamura had warned him.

Now, i know. I said that Mystic knew it and saw it and blah blah. But Mystic were there after Leshy lost his eye, Heket lost her throat and until Narinder's imprisonment. We can understand this from their dialog of witnessing Leshy and Heket's godhood and them saying "It's a shame what become of them" for Shamura is their disappointment of knowing someone like Shamura have ended up like this (Explained at timeline section)

Haro what do you have to say?

"Eons agone, these lands were rife with gods and their adherents. What befell this pantheon? Alas. 'Tis the nature of beasts to forget, and of Gods to be forgotten. Mayhap they left. Mayhap they slept. Mayhap they devoured and were devoured in turn. Those few who remained spread roots, spun webs, molded this world to meet them and theirs. 'Twere a land of many Gods once. Hundreds. Now..."

(the ones below are theories I can't really prove)

1-Haro, was probably the oldest, along with Shamura, god. He might be one of Mystic's first creation.

2-Haro seems to be talking about fox. Or kinda refers to him. The fox is known for taking Ratau, eating him. So this also makes the fox, or people like the fox known and been around.

3-Hundreds of gods, he says. Currently, we only have 10 (At the bottom) So, there was a class fight.

A little thing about Narinder and the twins. Heaven and hell, does in fact exist in the cotl universe. You can see it in the ascension and sacrifice rituals. Going above and going below. Fly to heaven and dragged to hell.

Which means dead souls are being sorted. Considering the fact that Narinder is restricted to move anywhere, that job ends up with the twins. Baal, obviously with his kind and respectful attitude, works in heaven. Aym, on the other hand, is very aggressive and intimidating so works in hell.

Timeline

A hundred gods, roamed on realms. For various reasons, they died of or how I like to refer, ended up in Mystic's hands.

Mystic created Shamura, Haro, Kallamar and Narinder. Understood them, talked with them.

Allocer and Astaroth were given to Shamura then to Kallamar, to encourage them into godhood and cult culture.

Heket was created, tho wasn't crowned.

Haro lost his godhood by disobeying, altering. This lead to the creation of Leshy.

After creation of Leshy, Mystic was not there to attend and see Leshy and Heket stepping into godhood.

Shamura took care of his siblings and helped them into godhood. Tho it's questionable on how good they managed that.

Agares and Bathin was given by Shamura to Heket and Leshy, to teach them about the same culture.

Shamura introduced Narinder to idea of change. Narinder refused his role as god of death and tried to be god of life.

Shamura knew what would happen to Narinder if the crown giver, Mystic Seller, learned about this. This caused an argument, most likely because Narinder believed that Haro was judged unfairly. So, there it came "see no evil, say no evil, hear no evil, think no evil"

The siblings lost their original godhoods. "If that's my destiny, you're coming down with me" kind of stuff.

Leshy and Heket stepped into godhood by the help of Shamura and Kallamar to be able to protect themselves. (Their rapid transition to godhood explains why they were defeated more easily than Kallamar and Shamura. They are inexperienced gods. If you notice, after the battle of Heket, Kallamar's battle is actually surprisingly difficult and fast.)

Witnesses hid in respective realms.

Mystic Seller came back. Narinder was not present yet what he left behind was. He saw the other bishops. Mystic Seller knew Heket and Leshy as the gods they were know. Not as what they were supposed to be. 

"Five points to a pentagram, five portents of doom, five siblings stood abreast, five gods and one tomb..." Shamura's summarizing of the whole story. Their family and how it doomed. How the remaining bishops and Mystic had to kill Narinder and trap him in after life, the gateway being his tomb.

Shamura learned about the prophecy after a few centuries or more. That lead to the geno¢ide of sheep.

The gateway/tomb of Narinder before defeating bishops. 5 chains, gray ones belonging to bishops and golden one belonging to Mystic Seller.

A basic classification of the types of deities that we have in cotl:

Mystic Seller: Creator, above gods

Mystic Seller's guards: Deities that exist out time and space and work along Mystic Seller, above gods

Narinder: God of death

Shamura: God of war (formerly god of might)

Kallamar: God of pestilence (formerly health)

Heket: Goddess of famine (formerly abundance)

Leshy: God of chaos (formerly peace)

Aym: Disciple of Narinder, demigod (guider of sinners)

Baal: Disciple of Narinder, demigod (guider of winners)

Haro: Ex god, currently a messenger

Chemach: Eldritch Goddess, One of the oldest remaining Goddess. [She (yes Chemach is a girl) has an Eldritch crown and the crown has eyes. Just like the bishops'. This makes her a god considering her ability to turn living into power, essence and remnant to be used for something else afterwards. (relics)]

Clauneck and Kudaii: Gifted with immortality possibly by their sister, or are gods.

Midas: Golden touch asshole king

The fox: Most likely a demon/god from underworld, considering his soul deals and Haro's dialog.

Ratoo: I can't class him but considering he is living without a whole ass organ and still stays alive, he isn't mortal

Nah, it's just what I think of course also, please check my witness theory and Possession too!

If you want to add to this theory, you can by doing a reblog. I'm preparing a crown theory too, so this is kind of a part one! If this gets popular, I might make a video for it, who knows ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

[hyunjin-amore]

Hello :)

I have been literally obsessed with One Piece for quite some time and I unfortunatelly run out of new one shots to read. And I saw you are taking requests... If you have time or if you are willing to write it I will be more than happy if you could write anything smutty with Luffy x fem reader were they are in an established realtionship. (also if you could maybe add a little age gap where Luffy is around 19 and reader is slightly older). But since I know how life can be hectic I dont want to pressure you and it is completely fine if you wont write it.

Have a nice day/night :)

A Love as Strong as the Sea

Hello and hope have nice night or day as well!!

Warning: smut, slight age-gap

Summary : Luffy and Y/N, two members of the notorious pirate crew known as the Straw Hats, have a strong affection and friendship that are examined in this article. The couple declared their love for one another after surviving a terrifying ordeal on a desolate island, and they haven't been apart since. Luffy and Y/N have a love story that is both adventurous and deeply felt, fueled by intense intimacy and deep knowledge of one another. The unshakable tie between them is evident as the sun sets on the Thousand Sunny, with their love burning as brightly as the sky.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Luffy and his sweetheart, Y/N, were lying in their cabin together as the sun was starting to set on the Thousand Sunny. Their love had only gotten deeper during the nearly a year they had been together. Luffy, who is currently 19 years old, has always had a deep romantic attachment to Y/N, a 23-year-old member of their pirate crew. But they didn't talk about their feelings until they were stuck together on a remote island and had to rely on one another to survive.

And they were never separated after that. Luffy enjoyed feeling every inch of Y/N's smooth skin as they lay in bed together, running his fingertips over her entire body. His touch made her shudder, her body reacting excitedly to his every motion. They could only speak to each other in a language they understood. Luffy would place his head on Y/N's chest and let her stroke his jet-black hair as he relaxed, listening to the steady beat of her heart.

However, the vibe between them was different tonight. Luffy knew that Y/N felt the same way since he could feel the need blazing within him. He leaned in closer and kissed her deeply and passionately without saying anything. Their bodies were pressed close to one another as their tongues moved in perfect accord. Y/N was compelled to run her hands over Luffy's thick chest, feeling each crease and rip in his physique. His strength and drive had always drawn her in, and this only served to increase her desire for him.

Luffy withdrew momentarily, his eyes brimming with need and affection. Above all, he wanted to demonstrate to Y/N how much she meant to him. He didn't say anything; he just reached to her waist and pulled her up so she was on top of him. Y/N straddled him, her legs coiled around his waist, her naughty smirk directed downward at him. Luffy drew her close, his hands holding her hips as his intense gaze blazed into hers.

Their bodies eventually found a rhythm as they moved in unison and explored each other in the most personal way imaginable. Each of their passionate, loving gestures was a proclamation of their feelings for one another. Luffy's hands were free to move over Y/N's body, caressing and teasing her in all the appropriate spots. He could feel her edge drawing nearer and nearer, and all he wanted was to push her over the brink and watch her fall fully into his arms.

And when she did, Luffy was unable to contain herself any longer as he let out a loud groan at his name. Their hearts pounded in unison as they reached their climax simultaneously, their bodies engulfed in pleasure with a last thrust. Luffy couldn't help but feel appreciative of this stunning woman who had captured his heart as they lay entwined in each other's arms as their breathing gradually returned to normal. And as they fell asleep, he realized that they would always and forever confront obstacles together, no matter what.

Despite their different ages, Luffy and Y/N's love was unwavering. And at that precise moment, their unshakable bond which was stronger than any age gap could be was all that mattered.From that night on, their passion for one another grew stronger with every day, and their love only grew from then on. As they sailed off on their next journey, they realized that the only thing that mattered was that they had each other, no matter what lay ahead.

[scorpiussage]

Alfie with a SO who’s pregnant

Is both horrified and ecstatic when he finds out that you’re pregnant.

On the one hand: he gets to start a family with you and that’s all he’s ever wanted. On the other: the fear that he’ll end up like his own waste-of-space father terrifies him.

I think it would take a lot of convincing on your part to calm him down, but once he feels better about the whole thing, he’ll be ready to be a dad.

He’s going to want to do absolutely everything to prepare. He’s going to take classes, read books, baby-proof everything. Seriously, he’s going to be almost extreme in his desire to be prepared.

If you suffer from morning sickness or aches and pains, he’s going to pamper the hell out of you. He’ll have warm baths already drawn, ginger tea brewed and ready, his lap open and waiting to set your feet so he can rub them. You’re having his bloody baby, after all, you deserve the world.

His protectiveness will ramp up as well. From this moment out, you won’t be going anywhere without at least two big burly guards armed to the teeth. Going to the shops? Expect to have to do that with whatever two muscle heads your husband hires. And complaining won't get you anywhere, either, because Alfie will not budge on this issue. You’re so vulnerable and he worries endlessly about your safety.

When your water breaks, Alfie ends up being the calm one who carefully ushers you to the car, the emergency bag already in tow. He’s a total pillar of strength through the entire birthing process and he refuses to be kicked out of the delivery room.

“Tha’s my baby bein’ born, that is! I ain’t fuckin’ leaving my wife here by ‘erself!”

He is definitely one of those husbands who climbs into the bed with you and helps to hold you in whatever birthing position is most comfortable for you.

You can swear and cuss at him all you want, and he takes it so gracefully.

“Yeah, let it out, love, just let it out,” he’ll murmur in your ear, “You’re almost done, you are, just a little more.”

The first cries of the baby have him freezing up and it isn’t until the doctor prompts him that he climbs out of the bed to come cut the cord.

The sex of the baby doesn’t matter to him at all (though if it’s a girl he’s gonna make her a princess and no one is gonna stop him.) He loves your baby from first sight; he actually starts crying; he thinks the baby you both made is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

This man will absolutely hog the baby, you’re not going to get him to hand them over for anything. He will eventually because the baby needs to eat, but as soon as they're done, he’s got them right back in his arms.

Also, no one is going to get to meet this baby for months afterwards because that’s important bonding time for the two of you and the baby. If Ollie or anyone tries to show up at your house, Alfie will shout them away.

When he finally goes back to work after a long paternity leave, he will literally never shut up about his kid.

Oh, Tommy’s here for a meeting? Say, have I told you about how absolutely perfect my child is and shown you all the supporting evidence I keep in my wallet?

Having a baby might actually be the one thing that gets Alfie to quit the bootlegging business. He knows all too well what men like him do to get ahead and most don’t hold back on families or children the way he does.

He also wouldn’t pressure you to have more children than you feel comfortable with. If one baby is all you want to have, then he’ll haul himself to the doctors and get snipped so that the two of you don’t have to worry about it.

Overall, having a baby with Alfie would be a wonderful experience. 💕

[starstriix]

Jock is so tragic in the canon context for me because its like.

Jo genuinely does like brick but she’s so overcome with her pride and competitiveness to confront her emotions and she already views herself as undesirable due to not conforming to the standards of women being feminine and “pretty”. She’s already expecting to get rejected and she doesn’t know how to deal with romantic feelings so she teases and antagonizes him instead.

Jo keeps people at a distance. Its evident in the show where she has moments of showing or hinting that she does genuinely care to some extent but immediately switches and covers it up with indifference. Jo also has shown desire to indulge in romance and be viewed as pretty (which she feels like she needs to be more feminine for which is sad but a whole other discussion).

And and Brick is so drawn to her because of her confident and dominating personality but it’s hard because she keeps everyone at a distance and seems to be 100% focused on winning all the time. And I don’t think he’d have much experience with romance either (Anne maria literally states that he’s not attractive in any way) and even though they clash a lot, he genuinely does like her. And both of them don’t know how to deal with it, let alone on a tv show where they’re trying to win a million dollars, so they’re stuck in this state of bantering and competing because that’s what they know.

And they’ll forever be stuck because they never got the chance to confront that since Brick never had a second go. Meaning that Jo never understood that Brick truly liked her for her, and Brick never got that Jo genuinely liked him as well but was too insecure or caught up in her own competitiveness to acknowledge it.

And that’s what really gets me, because it’s not just the pining, but how Jock is a representation of finding someone who really gets you and appreciates you for you who are, no matter how mean or embarrassing you can be. And the lack of them having a proper conclusion or fully understanding that hurts okay it HURTS I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS ABOUT THEM

[definegodliness]

Saw a girl I used to know.

Acutely mesmerised. After all these years. Ten, maybe. In a nice little restaurant - cozy, within the hull of a ship - she sat just one table over with some friends, and I couldn't even glance in her direction for fear it'd turn to staring. Uncivilised, unsympathetic staring. Toddler like. She, her magnetism, caught me completely off guard.

Of course, now I've been back home for a while, and it has all sunken in, I realise that with my weird penchant for politeness and correct social etiquettes I actually rudely² ignored that girl. Wishy-washy. I wish I had been more jovial. Should have at least told her she looked great (because, better than ever) and have done the 'How are ya? Good. Good.'-thing.

She'd keep me up tonight anyway. But then I'd have the added peace of mind I had at least made an effort to pretend I am a somewhat functional member of society. I'm not. But I could pretend for a minute... definitely pretend. Then again, I'll never learn how to handle that feeling of being completely drawn in when it happens so unexpected.

It's too rare.

Those wondrous clutches tugging at your soul, I think, or heart strings. Maybe it's the sternum set aglow... or something diaphragm related. Evidently highly confusing. In any case: literally breath taking. And I'm not even talking about love per se, but a pull for whatever reason. Also, a pull that is completely overwhelming for one who is used to be unmoven by other humans in such a way.

Soul connection? I wonder. It could have been a solitary experience. Even though I could catch a couple of her glances in my eyes' periphery. But let's keep it at diaphragm strumming. That it was, at least.

Yes.

This will keep me up for a bit.

[atwistedandbrokentale]

Peter Pan is Star from wish, and here’s why:

That’s quite a bold statement, isn’t it? Sure, they both fly, they’re both help a girl and they’re both childlike.

But how could they both be the same entity? What evidence could there be? Well, a lot actually.

Let’s start with the first piece of evidence that lead me to this idea. Their first appearance.

When Star first arrives on earth, they do so in the form of a ball-like energy. They don’t really have a fixed shape, they apparently form it afterwards.

This has a connection to how Peter Pan first shows up in the (10/10 best) preschool spinoff “Jake and the Neverland pirates”.

For most of the first season, Peter Pan is a ghost, someone who isn’t seen despite being there. But he's always shown as a similar ball of energy. Just green instead.

I always thought this was to simplify him, not actually how he is but an artistic choice.

But the season one finale came out. Granted this was the first one I saw but there was something that blew my mind when I noticed it.

Don’t get it?

The green ball of energy is real. It’s how he actually is before he forms into his boy form, much like Star.

This means his human form isn’t his real form. It’s just a shape he takes.

I’m sure you’ve all heard Star used to have a human form in the production process that was inspired by the genie from aladdin and (fittingly enough) Peter Pan. But Star was also supposed to be a shapeshifter, the red yarn being a leftover of that idea.

What if this is still true? What if Star still doesn’t have a fixed appearance, both their plushie form and their boy form are just a shape they take?

But wait, you might be saying, Star was called by Asha’s wish, Peter Pan was called by Wendy’s stories.

Yes, Peter was drawn to Wendy’s stories but what were the stories about? Neverland and how you can never age there.

What if Wendy had a wish to never grow up?

What if that’s what drawn Peter to her?

Star was shown to not grant wishes, but rather guide them to get it themselves. It’s possible that Peter wanted to grant this wish by getting them all to Neverland, a place where no one has to grow up. Of course they decided otherwise but when they did, Peter totally let them go.

They both seem to be called out to by music. When Asha accidentally summons Star, she sings “this wish”.

Granted when Peter Pan arrives in the og movie, Wendy is telling stories instead of singing but in JATNP, Wendy said that if she needed Peter’s help, she would sing a song.

Asha seems to be unintentionally calling out to Star, saying that while she’s ready to face anything that comes her way, she still needs their guidance.

Wendy is more straightforward, simply saying she needs help. BUT!

What happens when she sings?

THE STAR SHINES

LIKE IN WISH

But there’s more. Peter has so much association with stars in JATNP. In the episode, “singing stones”, the singing rocks want to be close to Peter’s shooting star so they gain bodies. But look at the star itself.

IT’S LITERALLY HIM! IT’S THE EXACT SAME GREEN BALL! THEY ALL SAY IT’S A STAR YET IT’S PETER! I’M RIGHT, I’M TELLING YOU!

And in various situations, Peter even has constellations!

(there’s more but this was all I could find) With all that being said, it’s still possible that Star is the blue fairy. Star does have that pixie dust and the blue fairy does come from the star that seemed to be the star Asha wished on.

Of course, this puts it all to rest:

But hey! This was fun to think about, wasn’t it?

[forestdeath1]

According to you Sirius was Walburga's favourite son and they had quite a lovable normal mother son relationship before all the rebel drama.

And in the books he kept Buckbeak in his mother's bedroom and spend hours locked inside that room.

But it is canon he later in life hated her.

What do you think was going through his mind all those times? Was he hating it? Or was he trying to find atleast one good memory with her? Or he didn't even care?

(Also I like to think Sirius looked uncannily similar to his mother. So much so that if he was a woman anybody could have sold him as Walburga herself.)

He wasn't trying to FIND good memories with her. He was trying to FORGET the good memories with her. Poor Sirius argued with Kreacher as if he was arguing with his mother, they were so heavily dependent on each other in their toxicity. Terribly complex and unhealthy relationships.

I think Sirius always deep down couldn't fully understand whether leaving his family was the right thing to do, and whether staying would have changed anything. He hates Grimmauld Place 12 not just because it was a bad place for him; he hates it because it's a living reminder of everything lost - his family, his childhood, his brother, father, and mother, the Blacks. He doesn't want to regret it, so he prefers to think only ill of them. He constantly convinces himself of how much he hates them. But Sirius himself approaches the tapestry and starts conversations about them all. He's always drawn there.

Yes, he will never forgive their blood purism and fanaticism. He ran away to be with James, with Dumbledore, to stand against everything his family had done for centuries, but deep down he knew he left his family, and it was an unhealing wound he tried to mend by trying to be even more useful in the fight against evil, trying to be needed and valuable, constantly reminding himself of who the Blacks really were and what Sirius was fighting against and why he ran away.

Sirius was also so attached to James because James replaced everything for him - literally his entire family. But James couldn't fully heal his wound; he was with Lily. Sirius was always lonely. Without roots, without clan, without a past. A blank slate, on which nothing appeared except for an endless and very deep feeling of loneliness and attempts to become important, valuable, and needed to someone. The only one who somewhat filled this void for him was James. Then Harry.

But Sirius always felt he wasn't worthy enough of all these good people because he was a Black, and the Blacks were one of the reasons why all these good people were dying. He wanted to draw a line between himself and the Blacks, to distance himself as much as possible from them, to not feel all that guilt and shame. This is very similar to feelings towards one's homeland, if your country starts an aggressive war or becomes a dictatorship (this is very well described in the diaries of Germans who fled during fascism or defectors from the USSR). You love your country, but you hate it and want to dissociate from it as much as possible, want to forget that you are of that nation, but that country, that homeland - it's forever in you, in your soul, in your blood, and you'll never get rid of it. This country raised you, it's where you belonged, and in a new one - you're forever a stranger. And no matter how much you're ashamed of it, hate it, your heart will always beat harder when your country is mentioned somewhere.

Don't get me wrong, the feeling of unworthiness wasn't his evident trait, it's very much a deep-seated belief that activated in the toughest situations. The way Sirius sheepishly offers Harry to live with him... it breaks my heart every time.

Sirius is one of the strongest and most tragic figures in the entire series, with one of the most complex fates and characters. Few in the entire series can compare with him in strength of character (there are only three characters who are as strong a character as he is). Fanon Sirius doesn't carry a drop of the tragedy and complexity of character that canon Sirius does. Canon Sirius has so much depth, pain, passion, love, loneliness, that I still discover something new about him every time I reread the books.

As for him resembling Walburga in terms of appearance - I don't know. I always imagined him as a male version of Bella. But perhaps he really does resemble Walburga.

[shima-draws]

IF YOU DON'T MIND I am going to talk... about my Kieran-momotaro theory for the Indigo Disk... so IDK how much you've seen of it but there's some pretty compelling evidence of a Momotaro pokemon to round out the Lousy Three in the Teal Mask DLC, and I believe this pokemon is likely the source of the poison chains the three have. But that begs the question, why introduce it in Indigo Disk instead of Teal Mask, where it would fit the setting most? I think that it's because it'll play into Kieran's character arc.

My theory is that Kieran will partner with this Momotaro pokemon during Indigo Disk in his pursuit of strength. Kieran already has a kind of connection to the lousy three, namely that it was HIS rage that brought them back from the dead. We're never really told HOW that happened, whether or not anybody getting mad near the monument would've revived them or whether there was already something about Kieran that made his anger special, but the fact remains that it was specifically Kieran who unintentionally brought them back. Another thing is that, what this Momotaro pokemon does is make others stronger. In Scarlet's dex entries, it goes over how the Lousy Three's chains all enhanced them in different ways- Okidogi got big and buff, Munkidori got really smart, and Fezandipity got... a fabulous new look. But boiled down, these poison chains all made the Lousy Three stronger, which matches Kieran's current pursuit of strength.

So I think Kieran is going to have a literal toxic relationship with this Momotaro pokemon, which makes it really on the nose that this thing's apparent symbol is poisonous chains, and the player is gonna have to beat some sense back into him/get him to snap out of it.

And honestly? The idea that Ogerpon's rejection would drive him to join forces with the ringleader of the pokemon that hurt her the most would make for a DELICIOUSLY ironic character arc

OOOH YEAH I've been seeing theories like this floating around! Also somebody pointed out that for a VERY brief second when Kieran punches the monument his fist glows purple. Whether that was bc the monument was just reacting to his negative emotions OR bc the Momotaro Pokemon was interfering and using Kieran to revive the Lousy Three remains to be seen but there's very compelling evidence that something happened in that moment 👀

I can definitely see the Momotaro Pokemon seeing Kieran's conflict and deciding to use it to its advantage. Idk if Kieran is acting out willingly or if the Momotaro Pokemon is twisting his emotions and really making him have a toxic obsession with strength but I can't WAIT to find out what's going on there.

God I'm SUCH a slut for puppet master situations like this. Is the character in question lashing out of their own free will? Or are they being manipulated to do so? Are they genuinely spiraling due to trauma or abuse or whatever else or are they being drawn into a trap? AGHHH.

Love this theory and your take on it and you are SO right Kieran teaming up with the Momotaro Pokemon would be the cherry on top of the absolute mess of a cake that we've gotten. I need the Indigo Disc YESTERDAY I'm going to lose my mind when it releases

[genericpuff]

Let me preface this: I'm an architecture major

I used to be a big LO fan but obviously fell out of love of it like a lot of us did, and I know LO uses SketchUp for backgrounds. That is not an issue I have with the comic or any comic, I want artists to have an easier time in any way they can. I was always under the impression Rachel imported the models into Photoshop and drew over them like you can see in the early episodes with the sketchy lines. Well, school just started recently for me and I now have access to SketchUp for my coursework, and I made a few discoveries: 1. Photoshop cannot read SketchUp files, and while you can import them into Clip Studio through some configuring, they can be finicky and will lose parts in the importing process, so they are best used into the original SketchUp program to export as PNGs. 2. Many of the models Rachel uses are incredibly easy to find, especially if you put "modern", "luxury", or "classy" before the main part of the search. Many of the houses and rooms for example are first page results. 3. The biggest discovery: You know how we all assumed Rachel was hand-drawing all the lines over the SketchUp models and how she gave up the longer LO went on? Well, it's actually worse. It turns out SketchUp has a thing called "Styles" in it, which means you can mess with the lines and look of the model, such as making it look more like a blueprint or playing with the colors. Well, they have a lot of styles on SketchUp known as "sketchy lines", which are the exact ones Rachel used early in the comic to fit with her style, and it takes a literal click of a button to do. All she would do is pose the model, click the sketchy line style, and export the PNG. That's it. So, yeah, Rachel is so checked out of the comic that she can't even bother to click a single button to make the models fit into the comic's style anymore. Use that information however you like.

Ouhhh sorry OP, I'm about to like, undo all the work you just put into that ask. We've already known about the 3D background problem for a long while now.

First off, it's more likely LO doesn't use SketchUp but actually Acon3D, which is a website that offers 3D models both for free and at cost, which are actually compatible with software like Clip Studio. As soon as you open it up you'll likely see a lot of very familiar backgrounds that are often used in romances, isekais, and period pieces. It's literally the go-to spot for Webtoon Originals creators. Like, to the point that I wouldn't be surprised if Naver was partnered with them because of how many of their creators use it.

Second, there's plenty of up-to-date evidence to support the fact that Rachel doesn't exclusively stick to one software, sometimes she's drawing in Photoshop, sometimes she's drawing in Clip Studio Paint, sometimes she's drawing in Procreate. She's undoubtedly using Clip Studio for her paneling, speech bubbles, and backgrounds, as there are built in tools to utilize and convert 3D materials into lineart, among other features that are recognizable as coming from CSP because they're not available in PS or Procreate.

Third, yes, she just uses filters to turn her backgrounds into lineart, this has been apparent since S1. The only backgrounds she's ever 'hand drawn' were the ones involving lots of nature and even those are mostly just Photoshop brushes stamped on.

Like I realize I'm probably bursting your bubble here and I apologize for that lmao but these buildings were never hand-drawn, this is not new information (￣﹏￣；) I appreciate you mentioning your own experiences with it as you're learning it though, I find once you start to learn the process yourself you really start to notice what others are doing. Even I've gone through that over the past couple years as I started to use 3D models and more advanced tools specifically for drawing webtoons.

I will mention btw, there's nothing wrong with using 3D models for your character drawing and backgrounds. The only time it tends to get frustrating is when you're reading a comic that isn't making any attempts to blend the background in with the art style.

Like, The Kiss Bet probably uses 3D models to help with perspective and laying out scenes quickly without second-guessing, but you can tell they still hand-draw over the models because they look natural and like they belong to the comic's stylization. The characters don't look out of place sitting in a living room and the living room doesn't look distracting.

But then you get stuff like Lore Olympus, Let's Play, and Midnight Poppy Land, and it becomes a bit more obvious they're not giving a shit about backgrounds lmao

I get it, WT's deadlines are cutthroat as fuck, but if it's getting to the point that you have an entire team behind you and you're literally just copy pasting video game models from Phantom Hourglass, then it's probably time to re-focus your priorities a bit. There are comics with as few as 1-2 assistants (and even in some cases no assistants at all!!) pulling off backgrounds better than this, even when they're taking shortcuts.

(Nevermore and City of Blank)

But a lot of that does come down to how WT manages its expectations as well as support for their creators. The deadlines and requirements WT puts their creators under are insane and awful in the long-term, and they're not acting with the amount of professionalism they ought to be for a platform that's trying to breakout as a major publisher here in the West. I feel like it comes down to WT loosening the choke chain around their creators, but also creating a standardized level of quality to ensure it's not suffering for the sake of quantity. The traditional literature industry has real editors and stages of quality control for a reason, whereas WT is more interested in just throwing as many series at the wall and dumping all their stock into the ones that stick.

[definitely-not-captain-america]

Spoilers for the first episode "Aang" of the live action ATLA under the cut. I'll always put spoilers under the cut so as to not ruin it for anyone who has a life and hasn't seen it yet

Content warning for depictions of fantasy violence and death.

I think the animated series starting with Katara and Sokka was a good choice, but I like this one starting with Aang in his original time. It's cool to see the air temples full of people, and Aang is better humanized beyond the "goofy 12 year old who never takes anything seriously," which is partly true but not fully accurate to his character.

The genocide happens so early on so it's impossible to not talk about that right away too. We literally watch firebenders burn airbenders alive, so there's that. I do have mixed feelings about the genocide. On the one hand, I think it's a little tasteless showing it, especially the amount of people who will watch it, sympathize with it, but then not do a thing to support the genocide in Palestine right now. At the same time, I think it's important to show it. It shouldn't be an easy topic, it's supposed to be devastating and horrifying and I think the scene was the right amount of graphic for that. Not to mention the allusion of Sozin killing those kids after he killed Gyatso.

Like others have said, I don't really agree with them cutting out Sokka's sexism. It was a major growth in character for him, and it's important to show young men growing up from things like sexism and maturing and apologizing after you're proven wrong. Still, the casting is incredible so far and all the actors definitely feel like their characters, so that's good too.

Onto Zuko and Iroh (I'm literally writing all this as I watch the episode). I see people say Zuko's scar should've been a lot uglier, for lack of a better word, and I agree. It's small, it doesn't look like it has much texture, and his eyebrow is still there. It's a burn scar, and burn scars never really look pretty in the nice, aesthetic way they made it in the live action. Of course, animated Zuko was always hot, but for the scar to be a point of shame that the audience can really understand, I think it should've looked worse. (Sorry for my brusque language. I don't mean to say that burn victims are ugly and horribly disfigured. Zuko's scar is just so far from a burn scar that it's mostly just aesthetic in the live action.)

Also, and it's so early in the show, but so far Iroh has a bit of a tough love thing going on and I kind of like it. We all love the gentle, tea-loving, proverb-using old man who probably-definitely committed war crimes but is now a big softie who regrets his actions, but I kinda like what may be happening here.

Their village in the South Pole is beautiful, and I'm glad they have more than just like 12 people living there. It's still obvious that all the men went off to war, and I always kinda hated how empty the village was. Plus, like I said, it's still really pretty, so we get to see how there was a culture there that's been somewhat lost.

I love Aang and Katara's conversation about them growing up fast. I think it's a little easy to forget how young everyone is in the animated series — everyone who's not Aang anyway, because even sixteen/seventeen is very young and we can forget that when everyone is drawn to be muscled and attractive and without any real baby fat.

I don't really like how Appa looks, but I typically hate all CGI animals because their fur always looks weird. He isn't terrible, it's just a serious case of uncanny valley for me so it's just not my thing.

I kinda like that Katara goes off to the ship on her own before Aang. We get her gentleness and a lot of her uncertainty, but we also see her conviction and the fact that she'll do whatever she wants if she believes it's for the right reason.

Right along those lines, I really love how evident Sokka's role as the child soldier/child leader is. Katara mentioned that he was told to watch the village since he was 13, and he's doing what he can. He has no idea what's right, he's just doing everything he can to hold things together and keep people safe. Aang calling him the bravest person he's ever met was so wonderful and exactly the validation Sokka needed to hear but probably never did. It also helped him come to his decision to help Aang, which was awesome.

I also love the reckless abandon we see with Zuko and the other firebenders. Sozin entered the Fire Nation into a world of divine right and basically the American Dream of conquering and doing whatever you want because they're in charge, they have the right, so they can. I also love the slight juxtaposition of Aang and Iroh's short encounter where Aang asks why the war was started. I just really like all the character interactions so far.

We also really get to see Zuko being young. His desperation when Aang escapes, the anger and fear he experiences. It's all very realistic and I'm glad we get more of that in this one.

I can't quite figure out if I like the costumes and the setting a lot. I don't like CGI heavy movies because they never look real or good to me, which is something I care about. I'm also not a good judge of whether CGI is good or not. I end up comparing everything to Narnia or Babe the Pig, both of which were pretty incredible, and nothing has been to those standards since.

In that same vein, I can't tell if I like the bending or not. It's not terrible, but the hand movements always look a little off to what ends up happening (which, I understand why, I just think it could been a little cleaner). Though that's probably just a byproduct of this being a live action, and the animated will always be better for bending. That earthbender in the beginning just took so long to earthbend, and I've always appreciated that earthbending is like, the heaviest and there's a lot more force that goes into it, but he was taking too long for me.

I 100% love this cast. So far they've all been very true to their characters while also being slightly new interpretations, which I like. I can't wait to see how they develop throughout the show, especially Katara, who I think goes through the most amount of growth in the show in a fairly short amount of time. Aang is still playful but also a bit more grown up, Sokka is still sarcastic but also focused on being a leader, Zuko is young and scared and angry and desperate to prove himself. I'm really happy with this actually, because it'll be easier for me to forgive the parts I don't like because these actors are so good.

That was very ramshackle and haphazardly thrown together. Oh well. This is starting out better than I expected and I'm excited for that.