#particularly in the latter half of the game

[konotton]

I remember seeing someone respond "why would you want your game to release unfinished" in response to someone saying they wanted DLC for Pokémon Legends Arceus and that's stuck with me ever since

because like

not all DLC—the vast majority of it, even—is new content rather than stuff cut from the base game

I want to say "how do you even come to that conclusion" but I feel like the answer's pretty obvious

[johnbrand]

Kickin' it Straight!

SuckMcDick69 has gifted you Kickin’ it Straight! Downloading now…

Puzzled, Mason clicked on the notification. He had no idea what game his console was installing, nor who this “SuckMcDick69” person was. His only guess would have been that it was Mick, the repulsive, 30-something hetero next door. But Mick despised Mason and his boyfriend Corey, particularly after they had submitted that noise complaint a while back. There were only so many feminine moans and repeated bed-frame slammings into the wall that the couple could handle.

But looking at the game, it seemed legit. Even a quick Google search confirmed this. Sure Mason did not know where the gift was from, but what was the harm in playing it anyway? The couple had a date night planned but Corey would not be home for another hour. And Mason had already taken a shower. His slim, shaved body still glistened with a few drops and his wavy fringe was still too wet to style. So, without a second thought, Mason decided to launch the game.

“Kickin’ it Straight!” had a simple premise: land the ball into the miniature goal on the other side of the map. However, each kick was incredibly uncoordinated, curving in random directions so that the only way to win the game was to punt a perfectly-straight shot. Each attempted shot earned the player in-game currency, either beer can tabs or the super rare single dollar bills. With these, one could save up and purchase bonuses to straighten out their intention. 

The graphics were decent and the gameplay fine, but this was not Mason’s usual style of game. He was surprised at its addictive quality, having soon racked up enough can tabs to purchase a bonus. +10 MUSCULATURE! Almost as if delivered directly from the game through his controller, Mason felt a tingle of excitement crawl along his body. That added muscle was definitely going to help straighten him out! 

With a slightly stronger grip, Mason began kicking again, noticing his aim had barely improved. He assumed the game was structured purposefully for players to dedicate time in order to complete it. So Mason saved a little longer, waiting until he could purchase two upgrades at once. With another +10 MUSCULATURE, Mason could practically feel his abdominals hardening with elation, but he also secured a +5 HEIGHT. He stretched his buzzing arms and legs, kicking the latter set up onto the futon and spreading them across the cushions.

Now able to rack up more can tabs, Mason was soon hoarding a good amount of cash. Previewing the shop, he ended up selecting three different bonuses. He grabbed the final +10 MUSCULATURE and +5 HEIGHT to round off those two categories. After completing an additional challenge, Mason also earned a +15 ANDROGEN. He did not know what that meant, but he did not care. Mason did however notice the tingling sensation in his lower half again, but after scratching at his furry legs he disregarded it, his feet now hanging over the edge. 

Suddenly, a big hoop presented itself to the left of the goal, offering dollar bills if Mason scored the shot. Thanks to his bonuses, he could better predict the angles of his kicks, allowing him to punt it directly in on the first attempt. Immediately he ventured into the shop, purchasing +5 CLEATS out of the three options assuming he would be supplied with better shoes. Navigating out of the shop, Mason subconsciously rubbed his feet together, seemingly ticklish as they thickened and plumped into much larger soles.

As he continued on, the amount of bonuses Mason had available began to change, each checking off as his aim shrunk narrower. +10 MATURITY, +20 VIRILITY, +25 CONFIDENCE. Eventually he no longer processed what he was purchasing, obsessively venturing back and forth from shop to field to check each item off. +20 POWER, +20 AGGRESSION, -10 INTELLIGENCE QUOTIENT, -20 INTELLIGENCE QUOTIENT, -30 INTELLIGENCE QUOTIENT. 

Near the end, Mason only had two more bonuses to purchase, both only attainable with dollar bills. Scratching between his crew cut and scruffy beard, it took him a few moments to realize he could purchase both. REMOVE HOMOSEXAULITY DISADVANTAGE, INSTALL HETEROSEXUALITY ADVANTAGE. With this came a purchase animation, showing Mason’s character placing the dollar bills into the waistbands of busty, oversexualized cheerleaders. He groped himself casually, feeling his juicy man meat grow hard. 

Once it was finished, he was put back in the game for the final shot. With pure determination, Mason kicked the ball straight down the line into the goal. Obnoxiously, he shouted out a booming, abrasive victory cry for everyone in the building to hear. Everyone would now know that Mason was "kickin' it straight!"

After closing the game, Mason received a notification on his phone. It was from Mick next door, asking him to come over to discuss something. Without a second thought, Mason got up and left, not even bothering putting some clothes on. He was promptly greeted at the next door by a man of similar size, stench, and sense.

“Sorry I'm late, honey!” Corey announced a while later once he finally arrived home. Looking around, he was surprised at how empty the apartment looked, as if it had recently purged. His eyes momentarily went vacant, processing something, and then reanimating.

Who was he calling "honey?" He lived alone, unlike the two dickheads he could hear shouting at their game next door. The pair were like twins: both twelve inches taller, ten years older, and a whole lot manlier than Corey. The traditional moral contrasts were somehow even starker than the physical differences. With a sigh, Corey just hoped he did not have to file another noise complaint–something warned him Mick and Mason had the means to retaliate.

[lelengerine]

pairing. jeno x reader

synopsis. based on this req!

genre. not so confession au, just jeno getting his world shaken hehe, reader uses she/her prns and is implied to be female, reader is DENSE and im putting that lightly... lmk if anything was missed :D

wc. 1.4k

notes. anonie i support u fully because THIS IS SOOO HIM >< highly recommend listening to crazier by le sserafim for this one! sorry it took a while TT i was trying to see if my tags would fix but sadly that isnt the case... likes and feedback are highly appreciated!

m.list

you’ve always been jeno’s constant, his best friend, the person he shares his dumbest jokes with, the person who never fails to laugh when he falls out of the race track at mario kart, the person who knows when to cheer him up without him needing to say much. there was always an ease between you that others would envy, the kind of closeness that lets you steal fries off his plate without thinking twice or crash on his couch for hours without either of you caring. 

that’s just how your friendship was.

at least, he needs to keep reminding himself that was how it was between you two because his thoughts were beginning to steer in the opposite direction. lately he had become hyper aware of your presence, noticing the way the bridge of your nose would crinkle ever so slightly when you smile, how you completely disregard his personal space to sit beside him closely, and even your reliance on him when you can’t seem to twist the lid of a particularly stubborn jar off. it was always the subtlest of things that lingered in the back of his mind, and he couldn’t pinpoint why. 

though, it seems like his friends were more than aware of the answer he was searching for from the way they were teasing him during one of your spontaneous meetups in his dorm.

you and jeno sat side by side on the couch, surrounded by the familiar chaos of his friends. chenle and jisung, as usual, had been locked in a heated game for the past hour, their playful bickering filling the room. across from you, renjun and jaemin watch the scene unfold in their usual, quiet way, content to simply observe. you’re half-tuned into whatever conversation was floating in the air, mindlessly scrolling through your phone—with the occasional nudge to jeno’s shoulder, sharing a meme or video that made you snort on the inside, the casual, easy comfort between you both flowing naturally amidst the background noise.

haechan who was lounging lazily on the opposite end of the couch, passes jeno a look—a sly, knowing smirk that immediately puts the latter on edge. there’s always a hint of mischief behind haechan’s smile, but for some reason, it felt even more suspicious today.

“so,” haechan begins, stretching the word out, eyes never leaving jeno. he leans forward slightly, as if settling in for something big. “what’s been up with you lately, man?”

jeno raises an eyebrow, confused but wary. “what are you talking about?”

“oh, you know…” haechan waves a hand in the air, his smirk widening into something too smug for comfort. “you’ve just been acting a little… different.”

“different how?” you chime in with sudden interest. “did he start doing something weird?”

“not weird, just... off.” jaemin continues the bait haechan’s laid out, the innocent smile plastered on his lips testing jeno’s patience to not go over and close his mouth shut before it starts spewing nonsense.

“off?” jisung perks up from the floor, focus starting to shift away from the large screen in the room. “what do you mean by off?”

“oh, he’s definitely been weird for weeks now,” chenle adds, jumping into the conversation with a grin, catching onto his friends’ intentions fairly quicker than others.

jeno shifts uncomfortably, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t forget to shoot chenle a glare after joining the rest and their sudden urge for mischief. “i’m not weird. you guys are just being paranoid.”

“nah, you’ve definitely been jittery. more than usual.”

“yeah, i noticed it too.”

“jittery?” you ask, your confusion deepening, causing your forehead to form subtle creases. “why would he be jittery?”

before jeno can respond, chenle cheekily cuts in after pretending to ponder on his thoughts. “i don’t know, maybe something’s been distracting him.”

haechan snorts, clearly enjoying the whole spectacle a bit too much. “yeah, pretty distracted, don’t you think?”

you frown, gaze drifting towards your best friend. “is he losing sleep over video games again?”

chenle bursts into laughter, occasionally hitting jisung by the shoulder. “oh yeah, totally video games,” he teases, the sarcasm thick in his voice for anyone to pick up on. “he’s definitely been staying up all night thinking about those.”

"shut up," jeno mumbles, his ears burning as the heat creeps up his neck, trying to fend off the rising embarrassment. with every pair of eyes in the room glued to him, the pointed stares and teasing smirks are becoming impossible to ignore.

"this is so weird," you mumble, glancing between the boys. the playful tension crackles in the air, but you're completely clueless, unable to grasp what was so funny or why they were all being so persistent today.

mark, who’s been quietly observing from the kitchen, finally steps in after the conversation piques his interest. “maybe it’s a girl,” he waves the gentle suggestion in the air, and despite his tone being casual, you easily could tell he was just as in on it as the rest were.

the room falls into a brief, stunned silence. the first of the night.

you choke on your own breath, turning sharply to jeno, feeling a bit betrayed that he’d kept this from you. “jen, you have a crush and didn’t tell me anything?”

jeno’s brain goes into overdrive, panic flooding his chest from the thought of you getting the wrong idea. “no! what are you even talking about?” he sputters, flustered beyond belief. 

as if there weren’t already enough misunderstandings, haechan dramatically nods, paying no heed to jeno’s frantic denial. “oh right, he’s been losing sleep over someone. the poor guy’s probably been agonizing over it.”

jeno’s pulse races, the teasing voices of his friends blending into a chaotic blur. he couldn’t explain it, not when he doesn’t fully understand it himself, but his mind immediately thinks of you. the way his stomach twists when you’re around, how his heart picks up pace whenever you smile—that jittery feeling jaemin mentioned... it’s all starting to make sense in the worst possible way.

there’s a moment, as the others keep prodding and nudging at him, where it clicks. he’s always been comfortable around you, always enjoyed your company, but now—with their teasing pushing his thoughts into overdrive—it feels different. the way his heart seems to lurch every time your shoulder brushes his, how your laugh makes his chest bubble with a ticklish feeling he can’t explain, the way his thoughts keep drifting back to you even when you’re not around.

do i… like her?

the realization hits him like a freight train, and suddenly, all the pieces that were once scrambled come together one by one. the teasing, the jokes, the way he’s been acting lately—it all connects into one perfectly clear line. he’s fallen, and he didn’t even realize it, and now, with every single person in the room staring at him, he feels like the biggest idiot on the planet for not seeing it sooner.

“i don’t…” jeno starts, his voice low, struggling to find the right words as they stick to his throat. his gaze flickers to you, sitting there still utterly confused by the entire conversation.

“oh my god, jeno’s speechless,” jisung deadpans, eyes wide in slight surprise. “this might be the first time in history.”

“must be serious,” haechan chimes in and from what you could tell, there’s no ounce of worry in his tone. instead, the boy is grinning widely, like a cat who’s caught the canary.

jeno can’t find it in himself to respond, the load of the realization still sinking in, heavy and overwhelming. even jaemin, who’s usually more subtle, can’t help but throw in a quick, “just admit it, jeno. we all know.”

you huff, still frustrated and completely lost. “am i seriously the only one not getting what’s going on here?”

“sadly, yes.” haechan confirms with a muffled snicker from his end, leaning back into the couch, enjoying this far too much.

jeno glances at you again, feeling his chest tighten. his head is spinning, his thoughts racing. you’re oblivious to all the teasing, still in the dark about what’s really happening, and maybe that’s for the best. maybe it’s easier if you don’t know—at least, not yet.

“i… i need to get some air,” jeno announces abruptly, standing up from the couch and bolting for the door before anyone can stop him.

“...should we go after him?” you propose, biting your lip out of nervousness, not having seen jeno act this way in all the years the two of you had known each other.

“just let him be for now.” chenle pats your shoulder out of genuine consolation, “he’ll find his way back to you.”

[rip-quizilla]

While in This World

Logan Howlett (Wolverine) X Teacher!Reader

Summary: A purely self-indulgent one shot where Teacher!Reader and Logan frequent the same bar, and when Logan comforts reader after a rough day at work, they get to know each other a lot better.

WC: 7k

Tags: 18+ SMUT🔥🔥🔥, Reader has female anatomy, p in v sex, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), dom/sub undertones, grumpy/sunshine dynamic, Hozier references, X-Men: Evolution references

Minors DNI. All divider credit goes to @saradika-graphics

Logan only knew two things about you: you were a teacher at the local high school, and you drove a yellow Honda Civic. 

The latter was easy for him to figure out; that car was hard to miss, and whenever he saw it parked outside of Dusty’s when he’d pull up for a pint, he knew you’d be sitting at the bar when he walked in. 

The former, he didn’t even have to ask about for you to tell him. In fact, he never asked you anything, never so much as spoke to you. But did that stop you from talking about whatever happened at work that day? Fuck no. You’d yap about it unprompted every damn time. 

It was like you’d created a game of it. He’d walk into the bar, wearing an expression that clearly says ‘Don’t fucking talk to me’, sit down on the same barstool he always sat at, order a drink… and just when he’d start enjoying the silence you’d start in on him.

“Damn, today was brutal. Was it brutal for you too?”

“Whew! Wednesdays, am I right?”

“Well you look chipper this evening! Good day today?”

He never answered. You knew he would never answer, you just seemed to love ruining his peace and quiet. 

In the face of his silence, you would usually just carry on the conversation alone. You’d tell him about some kid who’d been particularly annoying that day, or a student who’d finally understood a concept you’d been spending weeks trying to teach them. 

You’d ranted to him about how Kash from your second period class never turns in his homework, which drove you nuts because you knew how smart he was. 

You’d told him about Lily, whose essays were some of the best you’ve ever read from a sophomore even though the kid had convinced herself that she hated history. 

You’d vented to him about Lindsey, the math teacher next to your classroom who complained about every little thing- including the students- careless of whether or not they were within earshot. 

…Okay, so maybe Logan knew more than two things about you. Wasn't like he wanted to, though. 

Today, he knew enough about you to be absolutely sure that something was wrong.

He was sitting at the bar, already down to the last couple sips of his drink, and you hadn’t said a word since he’d sat down. Nothing. 

He fought the instinct to look at you so badly, he really did- but he couldn’t help himself. He’d half expected you to be waiting for him to do so, grinning smugly when your prediction proved correct. Instead, when he finally succumbed to the urge to glance at you out of the corner of his eye, all he saw was your profile wearing an expression he had never seen on you before: stern.

He swiftly turned his attention back to his drink when the bartender emerged from the back and wordlessly started pouring Logan another glass of bourbon before going to crack open another beer for you.

“Something stronger, please.” you sighed. The bartender stopped, a beer bottle already held in one hand with an opener poised and ready in the other. “What he’s having is fine.” you added, nodding to Logan’s fresh glass. 

He and the old bartender both raised an eyebrow at you simultaneously. You didn’t usually order ‘strong’. You usually got something bubbly with a perfectly reasonable ABV. 

A second passed before the bartender simply shrugged and did as you asked, exchanging the bottle in his hand for a larger one and pouring you a glass of liquid amber. You sipped it, wincing slightly before taking another. 

Don’t ask. Logan thought, Don’t say a word, you fucking softie-

“Rough day?” Logan mumbled, his voice like sandpaper after barely using it all day. 

Weak-ass, he cursed inwardly.

You didn’t look at him, just nodded. Logan cringed; he wasn’t good at carrying conversations- that was usually your job. You were so good at it, too, he never even participated and still you always carried on completely unphased. He wished you’d at least give him something to work with here.

“Some kid mouth off to you or somethin’?” 

You shook your head and took another sip of bourbon. “No,” you mumbled, “kids were great. Phenomenal, even.” 

Logan exhaled a soft sigh of relief through his nose, fogging the side of his glass. At least you were talking now. He waited silently for you to continue; he knew you had more to say than that. 

“I taught this lesson yesterday…” you paused before chuckling under your breath. “...I think it might have been one of the best I’ve ever taught. The kids got so involved with it, they practically ran the class themselves.”

Logan watched your shoulders sink sullenly as you sighed. “As a way of helping them relate to the issue of race as it was being discussed during the Civil Rights Movement, I printed out articles for them to read about the issue of Mutants’ Rights.”

Logan didn’t let it show on his face, but that was surprising to say the least. The topic of mutants- outside the walls of Charles’ school, of course- was taboo. It was an important issue, yes, but he didn’t expect it to be brought up in classrooms, at least not while it was still in the news.

“I mean, they’re already seeing it on the news- anti-mutant crime is increasing, advocates for mutants’ rights have started earning followings all over the world. They’re already discussing this topic amongst themselves, so why not use it to help them understand that less than a century ago, their grandparents were discussing policies not much different than the policies being debated today?”

Little did you know, mutants’ rights were also being discussed even then. Being discussed in rooms full of important men who had the power to change the future- for the better or for the worst. Logan remembered it well; he'd been alive when those talks had happened.

“So what happened?” Logan asked, before he realized he’d said the words out loud.

You scowled. “Some kid went home and told their parents what they did at school yesterday. Next thing I know, I’m in the principal’s office getting told off about sensitive topics and keeping politics out of the classroom. How can they expect me to teach U.S. History and keep politics out of the classroom? It’s ridiculous!”

Slamming another gulp of whiskey down with a shudder, you seethed and stared at the wooden bartop like you were trying to set it on fire. “And I’m not even angry for my sake. I’m angry for the sake of the mutant kids that go to that school- and I know there’s got to be at least one, I’ve seen the statistics. They aren’t as rare as people want to think they are, and if even one kid in that classroom is a mutant then they’re about to learn they aren’t even allowed to be themselves at their own school.”

Logan was quiet- as per usual- before replying. “They knew that already.”

Your brow crinkled. “What?”

“They already knew they weren’t allowed to be themselves at school.” Logan said. “Hell, a lot of ‘em aren’t even safe enough to be themselves in their own homes. Parents throw their kids out when they learn they’re mutants, happens all the time. I’m sure your statistics showed you that.” 

This was the most Logan had ever spoken to you. You were rapt with attention, clinging to every word as protective fury for all of those uprooted children clenched your fists. Your fingernails dug into the skin of your palms while Logan contemplatively brushed his thumb over the grooves between his knuckles.

“A mutant in this world learns pretty quick that it isn’t safe for them to be themselves. What you just taught them is that not everybody thinks less of them. Not everybody wants them gone.” Logan hadn’t looked at you this whole time, just kept his eyes forward. Now, as he brought his glass to his lips, you saw his hazel eyes glance your way. “You taught them that at the very least, they’re allowed to talk about this shit at all.” 

You blinked. You gulped. You blinked two more times. All the while, Logan’s eyes stayed trained on you.

“Thanks.” you whispered, too stunned that he had just comforted you to say anything else. 

An awkward sort of silence settled between the two of you. Normally, silence was difficult for you to sit with; you felt this compulsive need to fill the quiet with words. Now, though, silence felt right. You allowed it into your mind to calm the raging typhoon of resentment toward the bitter world you lived in and instead focus on smaller things. You let the sweet burn of your whiskey warm your insides and trickle down to your nerves. You took deep, mindful breaths through your nose and exhaled through your lips, taking note of the way that the air smelled smoky sitting next to your drinking buddy.

It occurred to you now that you’d never actually learned his name, so you asked him. 

He chuckled, grinning ruefully out the corner of his mouth in a way that made your heart sputter. “You don’t wanna go down that road, kid.”

You smirked, acting a bit more like your usual spunky self. “And what road is that?”

“Knowing about me.”

You threw your head back and cackled. “Wow, you’re really committing to that dark and brooding act, huh?” He shook his head but you caught the glint of a tooth as he smiled into his final sip of bourbon. “Fine, I’ll guess. Josh?”

He raised a single eyebrow at you and said nothing. 

“Not Josh, then. What about Eugene? You look like you could be a Eugene.”

“I am not a Eugene.” He grunted. 

You raised your hands in mock surrender. “Geez, sorry, not a Eugene then.”

He sighed, throwing you a hard sidelong glance before muttering, “It’s Logan.”

“Logan.” You threw back the last of your bourbon and let the taste of it mingle with the feel of his name on your lips. Both burned deliciously. 

“You gonna give me yours?” Logan asked, his voice rough and quiet, like lonely tires on an empty gravel road. 

You held your glass up in the dim lighting, turning it this way and that to admire the way the image of the neon Michelob Ultra sign behind the bar warped when it shined through.

“That depends, are we getting another round?”

We. The word was new to Logan in the context of you and him. He liked the way it sounded on your tongue. 

“Another bourbon?” he asked you.

“Rye this time, please.” you purred. “That bourbon was a little too sweet.”

You were definitely the first to tell him that his drink of choice was too sweet. 

Shaking his head and fighting a grin, Logan ordered two glasses of rye whiskey as you continued telling him about the lesson you’d taught yesterday. 

He noticed a shift in you as you described the way your students had discussed social issues with the fervor of seasoned politicians. He clocked the way your posture straightened and your eyes sparkled when you told him how proud you were of those teenagers in those moments- how it was like they had all been waiting for someone to simply give them permission to discuss the intricacies of their social structure and how little it took for people to turn against each other when standing by their neighbor became something controversial. 

Before you both knew it, hours had ticked past while the two of you sat at that bar. As usual, you did most of the talking, but a crucial change that had set this conversation apart was Logan. This time, his hazel eyes never left yours. He listened- really listened- to every word you said. He’d never taken the time to learn the way your lips always looked like they were about to quirk up into a laughing smile. He’d always thought that you were funny- pretty, too- but he’d never known that when he actually laughed with you, you got this triumphant look in your eyes like making him laugh had been your only goal all along. 

He was noticing a lot of new things tonight- like the tattoo on your upper thigh that only showed when your dress rode up over your crossed legs. He noticed the dimple that appeared when you smiled wide enough. Noticed the looks you threw his way when you finished laughing that made him feel… something. 

By the time you’d both had three rounds of neat whiskey, it was nearly two in the morning. The bartender had given you both sweating glasses of icy water as a silent reminder of closing time. 

“Don’t you have to get up early, teach?” Logan asked as you gulped down your water at a speed he knew would freeze your brain. 

“I do,” you acknowledged, wincing from the passing brain freeze. “...but I’m a natural night owl.”

Logan grinned teasingly. “That’s pretty irresponsible… aren’t teachers supposed to be role models?”

“What can I say,” you shrugged, “I like my whiskey neat and my bed at three.” 

Something in Logan’s eyes darkened then. “Your bed, huh?”

You caught his drift; you were already drifting that way, too. Your knee drifting closer to his as he reached for his wallet. His hand drifting to the small of your back as he walked you out of the bar. Your eyes drifting to his lips while you struggled to maintain eye contact.

That was how Logan ended up slamming you against the front door of your little townhouse at quarter past two in the morning. 

“Fuck-!” you exclaimed, arching against the chipping white paint and gasping at the feel of the cold glass window as the skin of your back prickled. Logan’s hands- large and grasping at the soft material of your sweater- pulled your torso closer to his as his mouth devoured the lingering spice of rye on your lips. 

For a man of few words, he was suddenly louder than anything else- his noises, his touch, his scent, his taste…

“‘Fuck’ what, doll?” He grunted as his lips traveled behind your ear and down your neck, “You never run out of things to talk about, is this all it takes to shut you up?”

“-ngh… That depends, are you trying to shut me up?” Your voice was breathy, blood racing through your veins as his lips teased the skin where your neck met your shoulder. Logan made a noise that sounded almost like a growl just before biting down on your heated flesh, ripping a surprised moan from you that came straight from your core. 

“Nah,” he grumbled into your shoulder, licking the abused spot that would bloom darker tomorrow. “I wanna hear everything.” 

You whimpered. Actually whimpered at the way you could feel his voice rumbling through his chest as his solid pecs pressed against you. Cradling your face in both hands, he brought your gaze to meet his own. The dim porch light shone through the windows just enough that you could make out his smoldering hazel eyes as he brought your lips to his. 

The kiss was tender this time; richly sweet and intentional as he captured a sigh before it even left your mouth. You relaxed into him, melting into the kiss and letting the heat of his touch unravel the tension that still lingered in your muscles from the day’s stress. His hands left your cheeks, caressing down your shoulders and arms until they found your hands and lifted them to encircle his neck and shoulders. He grunted, grabbing your hips before tapping them in a wordless command to jump. Which you did.

With a little hop, you found yourself wrapped around Logan, ankles locked behind his back and his stubbled jawline prickling your fingertips as you held his face and kissed him hard. You mumbled directions into his lips while he maneuvered the two of you through the house until he found your bedroom at last. 

Mere seconds passed before you were practically thrown onto the bed, and you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch as he yanked off his flannel. Your mouth watered at the sight of his arms- not a lightswitch had been flipped since the two of you had entered the house, so the moon remained your only lighting as it filtered in through your gauzy bedroom curtains. Logan was haloed by a bluish, moonlit glow that made him look ethereal as he stood over you in only his jeans and white undershirt. 

Something sparkled under that moonlight… around his neck, you noticed he wore a piece of jewelry that glinted silver. Funny, you thought, he doesn’t seem like the jewelry type. 

You were soon granted an up-close view of it when he crawled over you on the bed. As he leaned in to kiss you again, the cold bite of metal hit your collarbone and you recognized what it belonged to. Dog tags. You made a mental note to ask him about them when you weren’t so preoccupied. 

You gasped suddenly, feeling his hand start to creep up your bare thigh beneath your dress. Your breath hitched in your throat when his warm fingers started to trace the intricate patterns of lace on your panties. 

“Those feel fancy.” Logan’s husky voice whispered into your ear, “Can I see?”

You nodded, eyes blown wide with lust and submission. 

“Talk to me, baby, tell me I can touch them.” he reminded you.

“Yes, you can touch them.”

You could barely see Logan’s face in the dark, but you could tell that he was grinning. His fingers slid into the waistband of your underwear, working them off your hips as he repositioned himself between your legs.

“Good girl.” He purred as he pulled them down your legs and off of you completely. Then you felt him pushing your legs further apart before-

“Holy shit-!” 

One lick up the center of your bare pussy was all it took to rip the expletive from your mouth and reduce your muscles to gelatin. 

“Mmmh..”  Logan’s muffled growl from between your legs sent a wave of pleasure through you, synchronizing with the way his tongue flicked over your clit. You could feel your pussy getting wetter just from hearing him, weeping into his mouth as you unraveled under his ministrations.

Your eyes rolled back with ecstasy as his tongue continued its work- you moaned and arched your back with every lick and every noise he made that sent chilling vibrations through your body. It didn’t take long for you to feel that familiar mounting pleasure rising inch by inch within you.

“Fuck, Logan,” you sighed, “If you keep that up, I’m gonna cum.”

Those were the magic words. Logan looked up at you from between your legs with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat and your walls clench- which he felt, since your admission of how close you were was all he needed to slide two fingers inside of you.

He worked you like it was his full-time job, tongue and fingers working in tandem to pull noises, movements, and delicious pulls of his hair from where your fingers had snaked down to his locks. His fingers drove into you, veins and muscles bulging from his forearm as his tongue circled and flicked your clit at a breakneck pace. 

“Oh fuck,” you gasped, letting overstimulation devour you in waves as you clamped down on his fingers and came hard. “ohfuckohfuckI’m…I’m cumming-!”

It was music to his ears; his fingers kept going, pumping into you and keeping pace with your release. Someone would have to physically rip him away from you to get him to stop before you told him to. It took him a second to register that something wet was dripping down his forearm, and it was you. 

When he finally felt your spasms starting to slow, he gently removed his fingers from your pussy and held his arm up to the light. 

“Damn, baby,” he whispered, his husky voice full of awe and admiration. “Did my fingers make that pussy cry? She needed to cum for me that bad?” 

You watched, wide-eyed and panting as Logan’s tongue caught the bead of your arousal from where it had dripped down to his elbow, all the way up to the tips of his fingers. His eyes closed for a moment as he savored your taste.

“So fucking good…” he sighed, almost to himself, before his hands reached for his belt. “I’ve gotta feel you, baby, you have a condom?” 

You nodded, reaching for your bedside table. You knew you still had some in there, but you’d bought them what seemed like ages ago- you hadn’t brought anyone to your bed in quite some time. 

Feeling around in the nightstand drawer, you finally found the box of condoms… and the single remaining condom inside. 

“I have one left.” You said, holding out the small square package to Logan.

You heard him huff out a little chuckle. “Busy girl.” 

“No, ah… quite the opposite, actually. It’s been a while. I’m lucky I had some left in there, really.” you laughed nervously. 

“If anyone’s lucky tonight, it’s me.” Logan whispered, kicking off his jeans and underwear after yanking his undershirt over his head. You cursed the darkness of your room, wishing you could see more than his moonlit silhouette standing over you in your bedroom- but God, was it a silhouette. Broad shoulders lined in bluish-white light, sweat-sheened pecs and a strong jawline that dipped half an inch when he saw the way you were gazing at him.

Unlike you, Logan could see everything. The night sky was littered with stars beneath a full moon, and all of it graciously allowed him a gorgeous view that practically left you glowing- but he knew you could glow brighter if you bared the rest of yourself to him right now. 

“Clothes off, doll. Let me see you.” 

It wasn’t a suggestion- this was a command. A command you eagerly obeyed as he got to work ripping open the condom wrapper and sliding the rubber down his cock. He was so ready for you, even the soft touch of his own hand rolling the condom on made him twitch as he watched you remove layer after layer until you wore nothing but the moonlight. 

“Goddamn beautiful.” he swore. 

You gazed at him through thick lashes and heavy lids, propped up on your elbows and smiling demurely as you slowly widened your legs for him. 

He couldn’t take much more of this; a growl resonated in his chest as Logan practically pounced on you, enveloping your mouth in a molten kiss as he lined himself up with you and plowed into you without warning. 

“Holy shit-!” you yelped into his mouth, the size of him surprising you as you took his whole length at once. You hadn’t realized how empty you had felt until you suddenly had something to fill you wholly and completely- the stretch was overwhelming and beautiful all at once. You moaned wantonly, clutching at his bicep with one hand and his shoulder with the other. 

Logan groaned as he slowly began pumping in and out of you, reveling in the pleasure he received with every fraction of a movement he made inside of you. You were so tight, muscles already primed and contracting from the first climax he’d brought out of you. 

“You tell me what feels good, baby.” He said, working one arm under your head to cradle it with his forearm, and using the other to lift one of your legs up to hook around his lower back. Once again, his tone left no room for argument. 

“Okay.” you agreed meekly, all the fight you normally had in you suddenly gone now that you had this man seated deep inside you. One thrust and you’d become putty in his hands. 

Logan pulled out about halfway before slamming into you, and the sharp moan you gave him as you clutched his shoulder drove him forward like a war cry. Every thrust was harsh and powerful enough to make you see stars, and you wondered briefly if it was possible for a dick to shatter someone from the inside. 

“What did I say?” Logan grunted into your ear as he fucked you, “I told you to tell me what feels good, baby, didn’t I?” His movements started to slow. “If this doesn’t feel good I can stop-”

“No!” you whined, actually pouting despite yourself. You were a grown ass woman, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d pouted. Apparently he could see it, because Logan chuckled as he lifted your leg from around his back to reposition it over his shoulder, opening you wide for him. 

“Then if this feels good, you better tell me, doll.” 

One thrust in that position was all it took for you to know he’d have you cumming in minutes, maybe seconds. 

“Holy-!” you yelped, and the bastard had the gall to laugh as he speared into your pussy over and over again, hitting that spot each time without fail. “So deep… oh my God, you’re so fucking deep, it feels so good, I’m…” Your voice trailed off as your back arched, pelvis pushing into him as his cock drove into you repeatedly while you moaned loud enough that it didn’t even sound like your own voice anymore. 

“That’s it, baby,” Logan sat up on his knees, cock still sheathed inside you as he looked down and spat onto your pussy. He lifted both of your legs this time, hooking them both over his shoulders before swiping his thumb through the glob of slick that sat cooling on your clit and moving it in little circles as he continued to mercilessly rail you. The movement was even smoother now, allowing him to hit that spot deep inside you that had you seeing God with every thrust. He felt you getting tighter, his dick combined with the soft, wet movements of his thumb were working you into a blithering mess. “You gonna give me another one?”

The way you looked up at him then- eyebrows pulled together helplessly over starlight eyes and bottom lip reduced to a quivering, spit-shined pillow- it was the stuff of dreams. Logan did everything he could to commit this moment to memory; he filed it all away and prayed to whatever god was listening that he never forgot the way you looked like an angel as you writhed under him, whimpering as your second orgasm crashed into you and made your pussy spasm around his cock- somehow feeling strong and soft and wrapped in fire all at the same time. Logan knew his own release wasn’t far behind, and the blood that was rushing to his cock drove him into you deeper and harder until-

Snap!

You both felt the rubber snap open inside you. It launched your eyelids open, had Logan’s movements reluctantly slowing as you looked up at him in alarm. 

“Fuck.” Logan muttered. That had been your last condom; he felt his heart start to plummet as he pulled out of you, inspecting the condom with his hands and sighing frustratedly through his nose when he felt nothing but his bare cock covered in your arousal. 

“Um…” you piped up, your voice small and breathy beneath him. “We can still keep going… if you want.” 

Hell yes. Logan began rolling the broken condom off his cock, perking up at the thought of fucking you raw. He tried not to make a habit of unprotected sex, but if you were on the pill…

“I have an IUD,” you added, as if you could read his mind. 

Logan had forgotten those were a thing. Moments like this always reminded Logan how fucking old he was… he tried not to dwell on that right now. 

“...You sure you’re alright with that?” Logan said softly. “We can stop if you aren’t comfortable.” 

You smiled, running a feather-light hand down his forearm. “I’ll feel a lot more comfortable when you’re back inside me.” 

Something darkened in Logan’s eyes as he looked down at you, lying bare and sweat-sheened on your bed beneath his looming form. He’d been getting closer before, but now that he knew he’d get to savor you without a barrier, without anything to numb the pleasure of feeling you completely… he wanted to make this last. 

“You want it?” 

Logan’s tone was different now; there was a dominant edge to his words that made your heart skip a beat. You suddenly felt the urge to play dumb, to eagerly grant him whatever he asked for and beg him for all the things you wanted from him. Your dignity was fading with every second you spent underneath this man.

“Yes,” you nodded, “yes, I want it.” 

Logan looked down at you appraisingly, making you feel smaller in the best kind of way. He gave a little nod. “All fours then, doll.” 

A thrill rushed through you as you rose to line your mouth up with his cock, before he stopped you with a click of his tongue. 

“Other way.”

Oh. 

Slowly, you shifted, spinning around until you were on your hands and knees facing away from him. Your cheeks heated, knowing how exposed you were to him this way. It made you feel like you were under a microscope, but for some reason that part turned you on even more. 

You shivered as Logan’s hands came down to rest on the flesh of your ass, caressing and squeezing without hesitation. 

“You know how many times I’ve watched this ass walk away?”

You waited for him to continue, but his silence told you that he actually wanted you to answer the question. “Uh… more than I’d ever noticed, I’m guessing.”

You gasped as his hand came down on your ass with a slap. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, just enough to surprise you. 

“Every time you left the bar before me, sweetheart.” He said, his voice gruff and thick with lust. “And sometimes I’d go home and think about this ass in this exact position… my fantasies didn’t do you justice, baby.” 

You jolted at a second slap that he delivered to your other ass cheek. Knowing he’d fantasized about you, the feeling of presenting your ass to him like this, the fact that you couldn’t see him from this angle- all of it was overwhelming enough that you actually yelped in surprise when you felt Logan’s tongue on your pussy again. 

“Oh my God-!” You half-gasped, half-moaned as his tongue slid over your lips, into your hole, around your clit. You almost whined when his mouth left you, but definitely whined when you felt him spit on your pussy before slapping your ass again. 

“Good girl,” Logan growled, “keep being loud for me.” 

That was the only warning you got before he plunged his dick into you raw and started pounding you relentlessly from behind. 

You did as you were told, that was for damn sure. Your moans, your cries- all of them merged together into a train of incoherent wailing in rhythm with Logan’s ruthless thrusting. He felt so good, his length reaching places at this angle that made your eyes roll back and your mouth hang open- at one point you might have even drooled. 

Logan was enjoying himself too, grunting and growling as he felt every inch of you squeezing him tighter, tighter. You cunt clung to him, and the soft, wet heat of you was driving him crazy.

“Such a sweet thing,” he muttered, and he was so quiet you couldn’t tell if he was talking to you or to himself. “Always so sunny… so- fuck- dirty now… were you always this dirty, baby? Or is this just for me?” 

You moaned a response, but the mounting pleasure within you muffled your words into more babbles into your sheets. 

Slap!

Logan rubbed the spot on your ass cheek that was inevitably turning red now. “Words, baby, answer me.” 

“Just you-” you moaned, suppressing a sob of pleasure as you felt yourself reaching your third climax of the night. “No one’s ever- ah!- fucked me like this- mmnh!” A strangled moan cut your sentence short as Logan felt you start to spasm around him. Those words, your hot cunt squeezing him tighter than he thought possible- it was enough to push him over the edge as well. 

“Aaahgh- fuck!” Logan’s pleasure overtook him, and he continued his relentless pace as he filled  you while you came around him. Your moans intertwined in that moonlit bedroom, and by the time you were both completely spent your knees had given out, leaving you sprawled on your stomach beneath Logan’s exhausted form curled over yours. 

A couple of moments were all it took for you to wonder what happened now- if Logan was the ‘stay the night’ type, or if ‘wham, bam, thank you ma’am’ was more his style. You had a sneaking suspicion he wasn’t a fan of cuddling after sex, so you shouldn’t get your hopes up about him staying the night. Besides, you worked tomorrow, so it wasn’t like the two of you would be getting breakfast in the morning anyway-

“What are you thinking about?” 

“Huh?” You rolled over, turning until you and Logan were both on your sides facing each other on your bed. “Nothing.”

He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “I know what you look like when you’re thinking about something, you know.” 

You didn’t know what to say to that. All those nights at Dusty’s when you’d chattered on and on just to see if you could coax him out of his brooding silence.… you’d just assumed that you annoyed him, that he’d been trying to ignore you.

 But maybe… maybe he’d actually been listening this whole time. 

You sighed, conceding. “I’m wondering if I should ask you to spend the night, and if you’d even want to.” 

Logan looked at you- really looked at you- then slowly leaned toward you until his lips softly touched yours in the gentlest kiss he’d given you tonight. 

“I’ll stay as long as you’ll let me, doll.” he said when he pulled away, before placing one more of those soft kisses to your forehead. 

You woke the next morning to the sound of your alarm and the smell of coffee. 

It was still dark, and you followed the scent of morning brew like a zombie until you found yourself standing in the kitchen with a mug of hot coffee in your hand. 

With Logan, who also held a mug of coffee. 

Wait…

Oh shit. 

The events of last night flooded your mind, and when you finally registered that not only had Logan stayed all night, but woken up before your alarm and made you coffee? You felt like you were dreaming.

“...Good morning.” you mumbled, your voice croaky as it always was in the morning. 

Logan smirked at you, taking in your bed head, your smudged makeup from the night before, your sleepy eyes- all of it was endearing to him. He nodded, raising his mug in a toast. “Morning, doll.” 

You stared at his mug, then yours, focusing on it as if it were a puzzle you couldn’t solve. “You made me coffee.” 

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I did.” 

You took a sip before staring at the mug again. “How’d you know I like it black?”

He shrugged, “Figured anything else would be too sweet for you.” 

You chuckled, inching closer to him and tilting your chin up to meet his in a sleepy kiss. “I have to be at work in an hour.” you groaned.

“I have to be at work in half an hour.”

You gasped, “Oh my god, are you going to be late?” to which he simply shrugged.

“They’ll wait on me. Boss is a softie.” 

“That’s something you two have in common, then?” You grinned, knowing he’d probably hate being called a “softie”, what with his gruff exterior and strong, silent type vibes.

Logan rolled his eyes, pairing them with a wolfish grin. “Is that what you’d call the way I fucked you last night? Soft?” 

You felt a rush of heat at the reminder of last night- you’d be thinking about this encounter for a long time. “That was definitely not soft.” you said, sighing wistfully. “Waking me up with coffee, however-” You clinked your ceramic mug against his and smiled up at him smugly. “-soft. In a very good way.” 

Logan grunted, shaking his head with a rueful smirk. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it.”

Logan had left soon after that, leaving you to shower and get ready for the day. You hadn’t had a very in-depth conversation with him about where the two of you went from here… but you put that out of your mind for now. You’d have plenty more evening’s at Dusty’s with him to DTR. 

The day hit the ground running at work, keeping you busy enough that the night before only crossed your mind when you sat down and felt the echoes of Logan’s thrusts between your legs. Everything seemed normal for the most part- until fourth period, that is.

“Excuse me,” murmured Kurt, one of your quieter students. “Can I go to the front office?” 

Kurt had seemed off since he’d walked into your classroom that day; nervous for some reason. He was stumbling through his words, his German accented English tumbling from his mouth clumsily. 

“What do you need to do in the office?” you asked him gently. 

He seemed fixated on his watch, fiddling with the dials obsessively and refusing to meet your eyes. “Someone is dropping something off for me. I really really need it.”

Something strange happened then. Kurt’s features- his raven hair, his pale skin- glitched. For a second, his skin was royal blue and his eyes shifted to a golden yellow. Then, as quickly as the changes had appeared, they changed back and Kurt was Kurt again. He glanced down nervously at his watch again. 

Realization dawned on you then, Logan’s words at the bar last night echoing in your head.

 A mutant in this world learns pretty quick that it isn’t safe for them to be themselves.

Your eyes must have widened dramatically, because Kurt went from nervous to frantic. He looked like he was about to try and salvage the situation somehow, but you stopped him. 

“This-” you gestured to Kurt’s watch. “-does it help make school safer for you?”

His eyes were nervous saucers as Kurt bit his lip and nodded. 

“And it’s acting up, so someone from home is coming to help?”

Kurt nodded again. 

“Would you feel better if I walked down there with you, or worse?”

He thought about it for a moment before nodding again. “Better.” 

It only took a moment for you to ask the teacher next door to you to watch your class while you walked with Kurt down to the front office. The whole time, your mind rolled through anything and everything that you knew about Kurt.

He was one of the kids from that Xavier Institute that you always drove past on your way to work. Not much was known for sure about the strange boarding school. Officially, all you knew was that some students learned every subject at the school and rarely left, while others studied their core subjects here at the public school and got all of their other credits from the Institute. The rumors, however… they were much more elaborate than that. 

There were several rumors floating around about the Xavier Institute, but the most common one you’d heard was that it was a school for mutants. 

Kurt came from that school, and you were starting to wonder how much truth there was to those rumors. 

“Oh danke Gott!” 

Kurt’s relief was evident as he entered the front office, running immediately to…

Logan?

“Dammit, Elf, I told you to have Hank look at this thing weeks ago- oh.”

Logan’s sentence was cut short when he saw you frozen in the entryway. Slowly, his wide eyes and surprised expression shifted into a devilish smile of recognition. “Hey you.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips. “Hi.”

Kurt looked bewildered as he tinkered with his watch, fitting an attachment onto the face of it that he’d grabbed from Logan the second he saw him. “Do you two know each other?”

Your mouth opened and closed, not quite sure what lie to tell before Logan swooped in with, “All teachers know each other, kid.”

Kurt seemed to accept that answer, shrugging and turning to face the front desk and ask the secretary if she had a screwdriver. You took the opportunity to inch a little closer to Logan.

“You’re a teacher? You didn’t tell me that.” 

Logan shrugged. “You didn’t ask.” 

You smiled ruefully, shaking your head. “Well whatever you teach at that Xavier place…” You beamed up at him.  “they’re lucky to have you.”

He looked back at you, a tender smile stretching his lips just enough to crease the outer corners of his eyes. “They’re lucky to have you too.” 

You felt your cheeks heat at his praise. Eager for something else to look at, you watched Kurt as he expertly worked the dials on his watch. “Kurt’s a great kid. Super smart.” You raised an eyebrow when you noticed the way Logan was watching him, too- proud, fatherly admiration was evident in his gaze. He had been the one Kurt called when he’d needed help…

“You wouldn’t happen to be his…” you asked, to which Logan replied with an immediate-

“No!” he shook his head quickly, “No, far as I know, I’m nobody’s dad.” His voice was low and gruff as he chuckled the question away. He glanced back at you with a twinkle of mischief in his eye before lowering his lips to your ear, only speaking loud enough for you to hear his whispered addition.

“‘Course, I don’t think I’d hate it if you called me ‘daddy’-”

“Okay, Kurt!” you practically jumped away from Logan, face feeling hot as the summer sun. “You almost done with that thing? Mrs. Smith can’t watch our class forever, can she?”

“Just a second!” Kurt mumbled, still focused on his watch.

Your eyes darted to Logan for a moment, taking in his smug little grin and the way his pecs puffed up when he crossed his arms over his chest-

Damn. Barely twelve hours after he’d fucked you into your mattress and you were already horny for him again. 

Taking a deep breath to bring yourself back to earth, you grabbed a post-it note and a pen from the receptionist’s desk, scribbled your number onto it, and handed the little neon pink paper to Logan. 

“Here. In case…” Your eyes flitted around in search of a reason other than in case you want to fuck my brains out again. “...in case this isn’t the last time something like this happens.” 

Logan grinned, tucking the post-it into his jeans pocket. “Of course.” he tapped a sarcastic finger to his temple. “Smart thinking.” 

“Okay!” Kurt said, jogging over to the two of you from the front desk. “Alles gut! We can go back now.”

Logan nodded to Kurt. “Then that’s my cue to leave. See ya, kid.” Then turning to you, he added, “Ma’am.” He dipped his head as if tipping a hat, pulling a small involuntary giggle out from under your breath. 

“Sir.” you replied, mimicking the gesture. Logan’s eyes darkened in the most delicious way when you called him that, and he looked to be biting the inside of his smirk as he turned and exited through the front doors. 

You hadn’t even made it all the way down the hallway before you felt a buzzing in your back pocket. Upon checking your phone, you saw a text had been sent from an unknown number. The content of the message, however, left no question as to whom the sender was. 

Drinks tonight?

You grinned giddily as a schoolgirl, quickly typing out a reply and hitting send just before you re-entered the classroom. 

Do you even have to ask?

A/N: I've never written for Logan before, so I hope his characterization feels right! Writing this felt like walking around in brand new shoes- still breaking them in. If you enjoyed this, let me know! ❤️

Taglist (just a few people I thought might be interested): @the-unforgivenn @ghost-proofbaby @pastel-pillows @munson-blurbs @hellfire--cult

[kradogsrats]

Revisiting the Arc 2 Opening

So particularly @raayllum had done some detailed analysis and predictions based on the comparison of Viren and Callum's variant arc 2 openings, but I want to return in the post-s6 space now that we have Claudia's opening as a third point of comparison because that addition has an impact on how the original two relate to one another and what each one is saying.

The basic sequence of each opening is the same: from the initial star-map zoom (associated with destiny/time-blind vision of future events) the camera circles the principal character, placed at the celestial Sea of the Castout, as they turn to stone. Aaravos's giant hand swoops down and plucks up the statue, now contextualized by size as a pawn or other game piece, to admire from within his prison with a satisfied smile.

The most important point to understand about this sequence is that Aaravos doesn't personally turn Viren, Callum, and Claudia to stone, but is able to capture and manipulate them as pawns because of it:

This doesn't seem like much of a distinction at all, particularly because the petrification that results in Aaravos's satisfied claim on each mage is a representation of dark magic, which is... what allows Aaravos to influence/control those who resort to using it.

We get the direct link between the heart, dark magic, and Aaravos's influence/control explicitly spelled out by s6, and (as many noticed before)... go figure, in all three openings the corruption petrification begins at the heart.

Now, Callum is actually the only one who knows explicitly about the connection between dark magic and influence/control by Aaravos. Viren has sort of intuited it by the end of s5, in that we can see by portions of his dream that he's aware on at least a subconscious level that he was not in his right mind during at least the latter half of s3. This is why the distinction between the petrification being a factor allowing Aaravos's control, rather than an effect of it, is important—the conflicts and dynamics being represented are more complex than that. For example: Viren's opening, it turns out, isn't about Aaravos at all.

That's a Reach

When the primary arc 2 opening, featuring Viren, was revealed as part of the lead-up to the s4 release, there was a decent amount of speculation as to what it meant—the connection with Avizandum's death was recognized immediately, but what did that signify? Would there be further-reaching direct consequences of Viren's involvement and the archdragon-killing spell? Would Avizandum himself somehow have expanded significance? What is Viren reaching for: Aaravos, redemption, another chance at life?

Mostly, it set the tone for s4 and arc 2 in general, particularly regarding Viren's character arc, with strong mood and themes of helplessness, the past, regret and consequences, cyclic harm, and (of course) death. Not even to mention the looming presence of Aaravos and his relationship with Viren as his pawn. It was a vibe.

It wasn't until after s5 and/or s6 that the opening came into full context: Avizandum, in his final moments, turns his back on the battle with Harrow—the cycle of violence that he, himself, has contributed to perpetuating—and reaches for the child he will now be unable to protect from that violence.

Viren, as it turns out, does the exact same, as we see explicitly in s5 and continued implicitly in s6. Like Avizandum, he reaches for his children, unable to save them from the damage he has already done—all of it through dark magic.

On its own, it's an elegant implementation of the parallels TDP is so fond of to demonstrate that both sides of this long-time conflict have inflicted harm on each other and themselves in very similar ways for generations. Even at the time of s4, however, we had Callum's opening obviously derived from Viren's, and after s6 we have Claudia's, as well—both of which come with their own context that builds off of Viren's in different ways.

Lost Child

So while Viren's opening actually has very little to do with Aaravos (prior to Aaravos's actual appearance grasping him as a literal pawn), Claudia's (and Callum's, which we'll come back to in a bit) is difficult to interpret as not being related to her personal dynamic with Aaravos.

Interestingly, Claudia's opening places her at a very specific point in time, since it's visibly between two major physical changes to her body/appearance—her lower leg is missing, severed by Rayla in the Sea of the Castout at the end of s5, but she still has her long hair from before prompting Terry to cut it off for her early in s6. Even more specifically, she has the half-and-half split of black and white hair, which is already majority-white in s6e1:

This is Claudia in a moment we don't see on-screen—when, having failed to collect Aaravos's prison and not knowing that Viren has been offered and rejected the Infantis Sanguine spell, she turns to Aaravos in the dark of night and is willing to do anything to save her father.

I could do a whole thing here about the nature of Claudia's perception of Aaravos as both a paternal and divine figure, but the relevant part is that her only association between dark magic and Aaravos is a positive one—as far as she's concerned, Aaravos gave humanity dark magic as a benevolent gift, and her main reason (at least that she's willing to voice) for hesitating to give it up is that Aaravos kept his promises to her and it would be right to keep her promise to free him. In her opening, she goes from pained and defeated to looking upward with total trust and hope—looking to Aaravos the way she would have looked to Viren.

Her petrification shares the single tear with Viren and Avizandum, really cementing her place as another loop in the cycle of harm between humanity and Xadia that has dark magic at its heart. That callback to Viren's opening also puts hers in dialogue with him as much as with Aaravos, placing her in the same position as he is in a reflection of his horror and dismay that she has followed his path and example so closely.

Given that Claudia dramatically changes appearance (and, to an extent, attitude) immediately after this opening is introduced, it's possible that we'll see a different variant for s7... but given the end of s6, she actually hasn't really changed all that much. She has doubts about how to proceed with her life after Viren leaves, but as soon as Aaravos re-enters the picture, her conviction is back. She may not have done any dark magic after s6e1, but I don't think that's because she's decided to give it up.

Key Framing

Given the context of Claudia's opening, Callum's opening becomes unusual because it references Viren's without tying back to Avizandum and that cycle of harm. It's still on some level about dark magic, but Callum's relationship with dark magic isn't tied up in family and inheritance like Claudia's and Viren's are—instead it's focused entirely on fate vs. freedom, and on Aaravos specifically.

Callum's opening appears only for s4e4 ("Through the Looking Glass"), where he is possessed by Aaravos and it is established that his single use of dark magic is what allows that control, and for s5e8 ("Finnegrin's Wake") when he uses dark magic a second time. The shared opening puts those two episodes in obvious dialogue with each other, since s5e8 never makes explicit that the danger of dark magic for Callum is control by Aaravos—something he has already asked Rayla to end his life in order to avoid.

The focus in Callum's opening, both by its visual prominence and Callum's own gaze directed at it, is the Key. While Viren and Claudia's petrifications end the way Avizandum's does—with the single tear—Callum's ends with the Key in a blaze of light.

I expect we will see Callum's opening return for s7, possibly even as a primary opening, but it will almost certainly be recontextualized at some point and possibly even changed to a variant that reflects that new context. The Key is an element that will contribute to Callum's doom or salvation—or both, as a key can both lock and unlock—and its prominence in his opening reflects that and will likely be informed by how that resolution develops.

All of Us, Stardust

Speaking of alterations to the openings:

The final, altered version of the Viren opening kicks off s6, acting as a last, fun little extension of the "is Viren dead?" cliffhanger of s5. Aaravos's hand reaches down as usual, but instead of firmly grasping the petrified Viren, he very briefly hesitates before pushing it slightly, instead. The petrified Viren then crumbles and collapses into dust.

We first saw (or rather, had described to us via frantic convention attendee note-taking) this opening at the first reveal of s6e1, which was originally shown without any of the scenes revealing Viren to be alive. There are a lot of ways it could be interpreted, from a straightforward "he'd dead, Jim," to my own kind of fanciful theory from the time regarding Viren, dead or alive, having been made unusable by Aaravos as a pawn.

One way to contextualize this opening is with this old illustration from Patience, which ties in closely with the Aaravos chess/pawns motif (and was a significant part of contextualizing the arc 2 opening as "pawns"):

Now, there are a lot of things about this image that are important, not least the confirmation/reinforcement of the chain of manipulation of dark mages by Aaravos across thousands of years from Ziard to Viren, with the implication of Callum in the future. What I'd like to call attention to is that in chess, tipping over a piece is a gesture specifically used only with the king, and specifically to indicate that you are resigning the game and the opponent is victorious.

I don't think there's anywhere we've seen Aaravos truly lose, except for possibly when he was imprisoned, because his plans have levels of redundancy that mean they don't depend on any given individual—a game of chess hinges on the king, but Aaravos is essentially playing six or eight interconnected games at once, and a loss on one board only reinforces his remaining pieces on another. Losing Viren, deliberately or not, empowers his influence over Claudia... exactly as we see in the sequence of arc 2 openings. It would be difficult for them to have replicated the tipped-over/toppled king imagery with the petrified Viren without having to do some labor-intensive camera work on the existing opening pattern (e.g. do they show the ground when he falls? What even is the ground?)—so I think there's a strong likelihood that him crumbling to dust is meant to have a similar resonance.

Anyway, I'm kind of dancing around some complex theorizing and analysis of Viren's death that I go back and forth on depending on the day, but basically I do still think the important takeaway from this opening variant is that as far as Aaravos is concerned, Viren is off the board. That it's the opening for s6e1, rather than a special use for s6e8 (as Callum's variant openings are handled) is also IMO a positive sign regarding Aaravos's loss of control and direct manipulation of Viren over the course of s6. I don't think we've heard the last about Viren, and between Claudia, Soren, and Kpp'Ar there will definitely be a multifaceted interpretation of his legacy with significance in s7.

Opening the Final Season

Ultimately, given the dialogue between the three (four?) variant openings we have seen so far for arc 2, I think for s7 we can expect:

the Callum variant will appear at least once

at least one new Claudia- or Callum-based variant, OR possibly even an Aaravos variant

a new variant (possibly one of the ones from the previous point) to close out the arc for at least s7e9

That's my fevered ramblings about this 20-second repeated sequence, thanks for coming to my continuing insane TED talks on this and other ridiculous topics.

[oneknightstand-if]

All Hallow's Eve (Interlude Broderick)

"Why are we watching scary movies now? Isn't our life already enough of a shitshow B-grade horror movie as it is?" Broderick groused from his place sprawled out on the right side of the couch.

To his left sat Gwen, front and center with a giant tub of freshly popped and highly buttered popcorn, and beyond her Lorelei perched on the sofa's plush armrest, eyes wary and every muscle tensed, as if she half expected the group to be attacked at any passing moment. Maybe by the movie that they were now settled down to watch.

Granted, considering what'd been happening to them lately, that wasn't a particularly unlikely outcome. So why were they even tempting luck by...

"Tis a modern-day Samhain tradition!" Merlin merrily exclaimed from where she's ensconced in an overstuffed armchair to Broderick's other side. For a moment, he merely squinted suspiciously back at her artfully tousled locks and the smug curve of her perfectly plump lips. "All Hallow's Eve... or rather, your quaint Halloween and all its candy-pillaging customs."

The mage's chair was tilted just so to keep a convenient eye upon both those sitting at the couch and also the small group gathering around the table at the back where a Ouija board was currently being set up after Percy had declared that dicking around with a haunted Ouija session would be safer than watching the movie.

Although obviously phrased differently and using far less words. Despite that announcement, the slim boy was currently wearing a pair of aviator-style 3-D glasses.

Of course, the movie that they're watching wasn't in 3-D. Had there ever been a good 3-D horror released? Because it certainly hadn't been Jaws 3-D or My Bloody Valentine, that he can personally attest to!

MC had joined the latter after announcing that Merlin wasn't allowed to play. A strangely sensible sentiment from the other so-called Harbinger for once. What daft idiot would trust a self-proclaimed succubus during a Ouija session? And of course Adrian had gone to join them, even as he pushed up his eyeglasses and stared dubiously down at the board game.

Did that damn pair of glasses even properly fit him with how often it kept sliding down his face and...

Wait, what was that?

Halloween special (with spooky sound effects!) featuring ę̸̡̧͇̭̝̐͊̒̅͋v̸͚̖͖̮͎͉̀́̅͘è̷̱̞̹̜͍̰̉̂̑̒̚r̵͎̈́̈y̸͉̭̪͓̎̈̃̈́͜o̸̭̹͑͂ṅ̶̦͇̪̻̱̏̏ë̸̯̦̼̤͖́̎̄ available on the Riders of the Apocalypse Groupies + above tiers of my Patreon.

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

Wanted to ask, is Eridan's relationship with his dad ok? Like when Eridan was learning how to use his harpoon gun he seemed very much distressed and not enjoying any of it

The only real canon characterization we have of seahorsedad is that the version of him that's Cronus's lusus is "stern, fatherly" and that he ditches Cronus for Hussie, although that last one is mostly just a Bit so I don't really count it as characterization. He's also willing to go along with Eridan "doing something ridiculous," though, again, that's kind of a Bit and it's unclear how canon that is.

((cw for abuse and stuff beneath the readmore))

As such, pretty much anything I say is going to be pure extrapolation that serves my characterization of Eridan, and I can't really back it up with hard textual evidence. But, personally, I think Eridan believes his relationship with his lusus is "good" in the way that many children growing up beneath strict, emotionally neglectful, and even outright abusive parents do.

We know that Eridan has very few friends. He doesn't even really talk to half the people in their group chat, and according to Feferi, he's never spent more than a few days underwater, total, in his whole life. Add onto that that lusus murder (and, by extension, the culling of the orphaned troll) has been his duty long enough that he describes it is "the only thing i evver did," I think it's a reasonable assumption to make that he also has no IRL friends, aside from Feferi.

And to give an idea of how old Eridan was when he started having to murder lusii, here's how old Vriska was when she was expected to start feeding spidermom:

This, and the fact that Dualscar was called "Orphaner" because the job of feeding Gl'bgolyb was his even into adulthood (as he lived before the Summoner's rebellion and the removal of adult trolls from Alternia), and the fact that no one, including Feferi, ever shows any gratitude towards Eridan for performing the job, supports the idea that feeding Gl'bgolyb has always been a violet blood's responsibility. After all, Feferi makes overtures about not being better than other trolls, but she sure does revel in being royalty when she can get away with it. It'd be in character for her to not be particularly grateful to Eridan because she sees lusus murder as fundamentally being his responsibility, especially if he started when they were both REALLY young.

In other words, Eridan was expected to start murdering lusii (and by extension, other trolls) from the moment he was old enough to do so, which, judging by how old Vriska was when she started killing trolls for Spidermom, is not very old at all.

Also, given the lifespan of violet bloods, it's entirely possible - and my personal belief - that Seahorsedad was Dualscar's lusus as well as Eridan's. Even without that being the case, since it was always Eridan's job to hunt and kill lusii, the biggest possible culprit for inducting him into his role would be his lusus.

And let's be clear, I think the fact that having to murder lusii/trolls is the biggest culprit for what's fucked Eridan up the most. The pressure of having the safety of the entire race on his shoulders, the fear of Gl'bgolyb and what happens if he ever fails, and the guilt of taking lives (which we do know Eridan thinks about) have left him with genuine struggles caring about other people, a nasty martyr complex (which isn't unjustified), extremely unstable and negative emotions, shattered interpersonal relationships, and a deep, nihilistic sense of resignation towards his place in society. The latter has directly led to him attempting to embrace that place by tricking himself into thinking he believes in hemocasteist, sea dweller supremacy rhetoric - which his actions contradict - because, without the game's intervention, he had no other options available for him but to become a key figure in the imperial army, continue murdering other sapient creatures until he died, and watch all his few friends die before him, either when they got culled, killed on the battlefield, or purely dropped dead of old age.

And, like... a parent who does that to their child, even if we assume the absolute best (that Seahorsedad does genuinely care about Eridan), can't possibly have a fully healthy relationship with said child. And I think it's not unreasonable to assume that the best is not what's happening between Eridan and Seahorsedad, because Eridan's psychological profile is so fucked up that I highly doubt he was receiving much, if any, actual affection or support from his lusus. Personally, I think his lusus was "stern and fatherly" in the worst possible way - high expectations, no emotional warmth, and complete disregard for Eridan's psychological well-being, as long as he was producing adequate results.

Because Eridan craves attention, and has very little distinction between good and bad attention. He's naive and trusting to a fault, hardly ever suspects anybody of lying to him, and has basically no social skills. These all say to me that Seahorsedad is just, like... not giving him any emotional attention at ALL.

And poor Eridan is just 13 years old - still too young to fully realize how poorly he's being treated by people who are supposed to care about him. Like, yeah, he's completely obnoxious and exhausting to talk to, and you can't really blame Feferi or Kanaya for being sick of listening to him, but at the same time, some of the shit they do to him as a result is honestly just mean. Like Kanaya is just actually bullying him- training him up to be a wizard as a joke, shitting on him behind his back with Rose, making fun of him to his face - and yet:

He's just that fucking desperate for people to care about him and support him; I can't help but think he's just not getting that at home, you know?

So I think if you asked Eridan, he'd say that his relationship with his lusus was good, and that his lusus was proud and noble and stoic, and absolutely a great custodian, and there were no problems at all.

But I think if you were to dig deeper into their relationship, you'd start to hear worrying things like that Eridan never got to celebrate Twelfth Perigrees, and was instead dragged out to go lusus hunting because it was particularly easy to do so on that day. Or that his lusus had to pull the trigger FOR him the first time they ever went hunting, because his own hands were shaking too hard. Or that he'd be locked out of the hive every time he cried, until he stopped crying altogether. Or that he thinks he's never been sick a day in his life because he was never allowed to have an off day and not go hunting and now he's just used to ignoring any and all symptoms. So on and so forth.

He reacts EXTREMELY POORLY to Feferi saying she feels like she needed to look after him - more poorly than to the initial news that she was trying to break up with him:

And I think that's because weakness was punished in his household growing up. He wasn't allowed to be weak - he was nobility, royalty. He had duties, responsibilities. If he faltered, their whole race died. And when you consider the fact that "you have to kill things for the good of everyone you care about, all the time, constantly," is the abject lesson that's been hammered into him since he was old enough to walk and talk, the fact that he's so incredibly fucking adamant about murdering angels starts to be a little... sad. He's just stuck in that mindset. He doesn't know how to escape it.

So... yeah. In summary: his relationship with his dad is great!

[sandyca5tle]

Slime HRT - 24 Months

Well, these past couple months have been hell, with a light at the end of the tunnel that I’ve now reached, but still. Anyway, on with the show…

So, before I get into the really gritty stuff, my jaw and teeth were converted pretty early on, as well as my ear bones. The former were a little funky, but honestly nothing really changed there, since I already don’t need to chew things, losing my teeth was no big deal, and for the latter, there was a small blip in my hearing - for a few minutes - but then it came back, honestly better than before. I wasn’t super worried about the hearing loss, particularly after eyes taste and smell, only how long I'd be deaf for, but fortunately, as I said, it really wasn't a problem. I’m pretty sure that my slime has just replaced my inner ear’s function innately, and since hearing is just interpreted vibrations, and slime is pretty good at vibrating. What was and has been nice is the cat ears I made a few months back can now actually function, which took a little getting used to, but my hearing is super good now, if a little overwhelming at times.

Right, on to the less pleasant parts: Remember how in the last update I said that apparently you know when your brain goes, yeah, that’s true, and it’s ‘cause it’s genuinely the most painful, disorienting, and scary thing I have ever experienced. First of all, unlike a lot of other changes, it kinda just goes all at once - I think it’s a survival thing, the brain/core wouldn’t function while being half transformed, and it’d probably kill you if they tried to. Only issue is that this means that your brain basically dissolves over the course of a few hours, which is excruciating, and the weeks leading up to that absolutely suck as well.

The first thing I noticed was the pain - headaches, some of the worst I’ve ever had (which I know I’ve said a lot over the course of this, but I was fortunate before to have very little issues, and turns out transforming your whole body hurts). I tried to take some painkillers to help, but they don’t seem to work any more - not sure if it’s ‘cause my biology is so different now, or ‘cause my body breaks them down too well, but either way they don’t work, so I had to suffer through the pain.

Either on top of or because of the pain, I've had a general sense of disorientation. It started off as just sometimes getting a little turned around in games and the like, but it progressed to getting lost if I tried to go anywhere (which was compounded by some other stuff too). Frankly it's a good thing in the final days before my brain changed that I hurt too much to go anywhere, else I probably would have ended up somewhere entirely unknown at a really vulnerable stage in my transformation.

I also have had some memory issues while things have worked things out. My memory has never been amazing in the first place, but I started to get very forgetful, forgetting appointments, plans, even eating (I'd usually ‘remember’ when I started idly eating random things I had around, which has meant I've lost a few things, but I don't remember what so I'm keep finding things I need to replace). I’m also pretty sure I lost some older memories too, but it’s really hard to tell if that’s from normal forgetting or forgetting ‘cause my brain was becoming mush, it’s kinda scary not knowing. This is also part of what compounded my disorientation - when telling left from right is getting hard, forgetting where you're even meant to go or have come from only makes things worse. Also, try reforming yourself from a puddle when you barely remember what you were before… definitely had some interesting shapes recently. Honestly, it was terrifying, I actually didn't know if I'd ever be able to remember things again (obviously I can, but I didn't know that at the time, and my memory of that period are sketchy at best)

Of course, the pain I mentioned earlier made it hard to focus on things, but even beyond that my ability to focus seemed to vanish. I have been so easily distracted over the past couple of months. Genuinely a glint of light or something could completely draw my attention from whatever I was doing, and then I'd usually completely forget what I was doing, get distracted by something else and wonder off. I apparently walked off in the middle of so many games and videos and just any activity I was doing. Frankly it's a miracle that I have any notes, or remember enough to actually write this entry, I kinda spent most of this last month piecing together what I do remember and have notes of (the notes are not the most legible, worse than my normal handwriting which is awful anyways (there's a reason I type these updates)). 

On top of all this, I also had nightmares and hallucinations. The former sucked, but honestly asides from waking up in some weird shapes in attempts to either fight or defend myself from whatever was jumping me in the nightmare (assuming it was a monster one) they were over once I woke up. The hallucinations were worse, since they could appear at any time, and oh boy do they seem real. Sometimes they were small things, noises, or a shape in my periphery. Other times they were blurry, intimidating figures in the distance. And of course with my inability to focus on things, these hallucinations would only be another thing to distract my addled brain. The worst though, was waking up from a nightmare, a puddle unable to reform, and the nightmare continuing as a hallucination in the real world. That'd usually shake me up for a day - and annoyingly my memory issues didn't really seem to extend to them. I'm still working out what was real and fake from that time, and it has not been easy, or fun. My ‘brain’ feels like goddamn soup whenever I think about that time. 

On top of everything else, sometimes I'd faint. Sometimes due to pain, other times (particularly towards the end of the transformation) I'd just keel over, only to wake up in a puddle of myself. It was really disconcerting and scary… kinda felt like my brain was just cutting out, and I was a little scared it might not cut back in at some point… and of course that’s one of the things I remember clearly, the fear and worry of that - very clear that the ‘remember bad shit’ survival instinct was and still is functioning, as annoying as that is.

Since I don't particularly want to linger on those thoughts more than I already have, an interesting thing to note is that even through all of this, my actual mental faculties didn't diminish - while I was forgetful and distracted, if I managed to make myself, I found myself just as capable as before. I partially did this to help assure myself I wasn't losing myself, but also because, let's be honest, slimes aren't known for being the brightest bunch, and I've been a little worried this whole time that I'd get dumber or something. The pamphlet I was given didn't really say anything about this happening, but I know from trans hrt that the information your given doesn't always include every possible effect (I know it certainly failed to mention the attention issues during the most recent stage, and the blindness from before) 

But, despite last month being basically the worst month of my life, I have survived, albeit a little scrambled, and I'm slowly putting everything back together. And of course, now, there's nothing human left in me! I'm all slime!!! (It makes me so unbelievably happy to be able to say that now).

Interestingly, unlike everything else, my brain hasn't fully gone, instead I ended up with what I quickly realised is a slime core! For those unfamiliar, slimes can have a core, which is essentially like their brain/major organ inside them, usually looking like a small coloured sphere. While slimes are usually pretty hard to damage permanently, damage done to a slimes core can be very debilitating, like heart, brain, or lung damage for humans and stuff. 

I actually think I had a kind of proto-core before hand, but didn't notice it, and I think it came around about when my digestive system was changed, since I think my core manages matter-to-slime conversion (I'm guessing this ‘cause that's improved since my core has now fully formed). I guess I didn’t spy it before ‘cause it was too small or something?

On that note, my core is/looks like, interestingly, a kind of verdant green gem. It mostly just seems to float inside of my goo, although I can move it around my body wherever I like, but I tend to keep it either right in the middle of my torso, or in the middle of my chest (at least in human form). Both areas have a decent amount of goo protecting my core, and it looks neat to have it there. 

It does actually look really pretty, especially when taken outside of my body (don't worry, it can be taken out of my body, so long as it remains in contact with my goo I'm completely fine), and yeah, just kinda looks like a funky green stone/gem. I am curious as to why it's green, and I'm kinda hoping it's gonna boost the efficiency of my photosynthesis, and that it's green ‘cause of chlorophyll, but I don't honestly know yet, need some nice sunny days to properly test it out. 

I did find out that if my core does become separated from my goo, I can just reform another body from stored goo around the core, leaving the old body to fall (but I can just reabsorb it afterwards to maintain mass). Oh, and before anyone worries that I was being reckless, I made sure to check that I wouldn't die before I tested anything.

On the note of stored goo, it seems like excess goo/matter is stored in the core, like fat in humans. I'm not sure what or if there's a limit or what happens if I try to eat too much, but as far as I've gotten for now, it seems to be fine. I have noticed that I actually seem lighter now, I still seem to weigh about as much as I look like I should (maybe slightly over) and as such it changes if I make myself grow bigger, but not really if I eat things. I'm not entirely sure quite what's going on there, as that seems like some physics defying shit, but it's actually super useful, means I can store as much mass as I'd like and not break the sofa when I sit down. 

So asides from all of those experiences and changes, I've found a couple other things that have sprung up from these changes. Firstly, I've found that my body feels much more coherent, I'm very much now one gelatinous entity, rather than bits of one and bits of another. Movement feels much more fluid now, especially outside of a humanoid form (not that I've gotten worse at being humanoid, just better at everything else) and I honestly find myself kind of hot swapping between slime ball and slime girl as I need/feel like it. Also navigating crowds is super easy now, just kinda slipping and moving between any gaps (I could kinda do this before, but again, now it feels so second nature). On top of this, my multitasking seems to have improved. I still can’t say one thing while writing another, but I've gotten better at physical multitasking; I struggle less coordinating my ‘hands’ when I try playing the piano for example (I still can't play it, but I've got more of the coordination for it). Add in that I can very easily have several limbs/pseudopods/whatever you want to call them at once (which is honestly why I think my multitasking has improved, it's to facilitate control of the numerous structures I can now produce) and it’s become very easy to manage multiple, physical, tasks at once. 

One thing I have noticed myself doing, almost subconsciously (and honestly, this might've started a little before now, but I'll talk about it here, since I've really noticed it now), I'll just adjust my body however I need in the moment. Now, this may sound kind of obvious, but it's a little funky (but mostly neat) to just suddenly grow an extra limb, or pseudopod to hold or grab something quickly, or to just adjust my mass to better balance or manage something. Again, very neat, but a little funky to realise when I didn't consciously think about it. 

Relatedly, shaping has become easier, not sure if that's due to practise, or having a more compatible neurological centre, but I seem to be able to shape myself quicker, and I seem to have gained a better memory for shape too, the latter is definitely due to recent changes, or at least, definitely due to the treatment.

I've  also still been working on my acid control, which feels like it's gotten easier, but again I can't say whether that's from practice or the recent changes, but I can at least somewhat reliably keep an area of my body acid free now for a bit.

Unrelated to the treatment, but I'm actually much shorter now, at least in my humanoid form, clocking in at around 4’4”(slime ball form has remained the same size, at around 30cm tall). I always liked the idea of being really small, and I can now, and it's not like it really offers any disadvantages, since I can just reach tendrils up to grab things from high up (with eyes/vision so I can see what I'm doing), plus it means I have more spare slime to spend on other, more fun things than just being tall. This all being said, the idea of using all my slime to become really big also has its appeals, but it's less practical for day to day life. 

To touch on one final thing, I definitely don't feel human anymore. I'm a slime, through and through, humanity is just a memory. I've mentioned before feeling more and more detached from humanity (if I ever felt truly attached) as this process has gone on, but now that I'm seemingly done, I don't feel human at all. Interestingly, I find this aspect has been remarkably similar to gender transition, with the feeling of being a guy slowly fading away until it seemed alien to think of myself as one, which kinda feels like where I'm at at the moment. I'll likely catch myself still including myself in humanity from time to time for a while, but I can safely say I'm a slime, and I am so happy I can now. So that’s what my life has been for the last couple of months, and while parts sucked - like, really sucked - the end result is so unbelievably worth it. While this feels like the end of slime hrt, I do have an appointment planned with the doc to talk about my next step and hopefully get myself onto shapeshifter hrt, so my next update will probably be about that. See y’all then!

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[dingodad]

This might be a ridiculous question, but does Lord

English have control over sburb? The alpha timeline

Is set to only be the one that allows the creation of

Lord English after all. Does being Lord of Time mean

that he is the one causing all the doomed timelines

to be destroyed or that he is causing Skaia to do it?

Is Skaia just in a way another one of his unwilling

servants? I guess what I’m saying is, are Lord English

and sburb even against each other? Sure his

machinations cause the destruction of universes,

which is the opposite of sburb’s purpose, but also

his influence is why those universes were made in

the first place.

one of the biggest persistent misconceptions homestuck readers have is that all events in Sburb are controlled by some overarching, interfering intelligence, and that this intelligence's name is Skaia. when a character is given a particularly cruel or gruelling hero quest, "Skaia orchestrated it"; when a character's actions cause a timeline to become a doomed offshoot, it's because "Skaia didn't want that to happen". but this is explicitly untrue:

ROSE: ... Skaia is a very passive entity. It only "knows" and "sees," but it never quite "acts." ROSE: When it is asked to change everything, there is only so much it has control over. ROSE: In fact, it has control over exactly one thing. The defense portals. ROSE: It can decide to send important meteors to different points in time than originally planned, thus creating alternate realities.

(remember how all games of Sburb start off with the exact same parameters, and it's only data input by the players that causes events to deviate?)

this is related to, and compounded by, another misconception which came to be common toward the latter half of the story: people fundamentally misunderstand what a "narrative" is and therefore get it into their heads that in order to be a narrator a character needs some kind of "narrative powers" - where did dirk get his "narrative powers"; how can doc scratch be the author-figure of alternia if he "doesn't have narrative powers"? people think that, in order to have dominion over the incipisphere, Skaia must be some kind of wizard, capable of both predestining events and shaping reality to match its predictions. and i have occasionally humoured or implied support for this interpretation by referring to "what Sburb wants" or "Sburb's agenda", but these are merely convenient anthropomorphisations. the fact is that anyone can tell a story, and almost any kind of power can be wielded to reinforce a chosen narrative: highbloods control the narrative on alternia simply by living a long time; lord english controls the narrative not by conducting every single event to his whim but by being present at the beginning and setting small, key events in motion... Sburb is much the same. a video game is a type of story which can control its outcome with rules and code, but that's the full extent of its power; the rules and code can't change, no matter who's playing the game, no matter what the supercomputer running the game "thinks", and no matter what immortal time-travelling demon may or may not have hijacked the process.

in one sense, yes, Skaia has been made Lord English's "servant". but in another, more important sense, Skaia cannot "serve" anything, nor can it be "for" or "against" anyone, because it is not a moral entity. Skaia is simply the cosmic force of creation, and creation and destruction are not good and evil. creation is an intrinsically neutral act, which can be at one time beautiful and at another time devastating - as in cancer, which is a disease caused be cells reproducing without limit! (and in the inverse: not only is destruction not always a net negative in homestuck, it is almost always a requirement for growth and rebirth; heroes must die to become gods, planets must die to give birth to new universes... the destruction of universes is not a uniquely disparagable crime that Lord English is committing, but rather a larger manifestation of a pattern that is intrinsic to the ecosystem of Paradox Space itself, just as it is intrinsic to real-life ecosystems.) this is in fact exactly what Karkat alludes to when he speculates the universe he created is cancerous. as should be obvious, there's nothing actually physically wrong with the universe he created; it's just that, like a virus or a cancer, Lord English has hijacked the process of creation for his own ends and made his own birth inevitable if the process of creation continues unchecked - a process which the horrorterrors, gods of death who at first seem to be malevolent but are in fact revealed to be victims, attempt desperately to prevent!

[batwingsandblackcats]

Been thinking a lot about Laudna, Imogen, Delilah and Ludinus today.

Particularly the fact that Dani pointed out that Delilah is the only one who has said that separating her from Laudna would kill Laudna.

I’m real tired and this is maybe a little half baked but if I’m remembering correctly, Delilah really only started saying this in the context of other people. As far as we know, Laudna never contemplated the possibility of getting rid of Delilah before meeting Imogen and then the Hells, so this conversation was a moot point until the last couple years in-game.

But the thing I find really interesting about all of this is that Delilah tends to bring up the “if I die, she dies” thing to Imogen specifically, or to Imogen and Laudna as a unit, or to one of them in the context of the other, and I feel like that says something very interesting about the way Delilah views/expresses love and agency.

I think Delilah fundamentally misunderstands two very important things:

1. Delilah fundamentally misunderstands how Imogen loves.

Delilah went to extreme lengths to bring Sylas back after he died, and while he was apparently fine with that, she didn’t actually ask him. Unless there’s some unreleased lore somewhere where she and Sylas discussed things before he died, she didn’t actually get consent from him.

I think Delilah is banking on Imogen behaving the way she did when she lost Sylas. I think she’s either expecting that Imogen would go to extreme lengths to bring Laudna back, by force if necessary, or she’s expecting Imogen to not want to risk it in the first place. At this point in time I think it’s the latter, considering the context of the upcoming ritual. I’m sure she knows by now that Imogen desperately wants Delilah and Laudna separated, but I think Delilah is banking on the possibility of losing Laudna being enough of a deterrent for Imogen to keep her from actually trying.

Delilah was only there for the part where Imogen said she would do anything to get Laudna back, she wasn’t there when Imogen gave Laudna the choice to stay dead if she really wanted to. Delilah doesn’t seem to understand that Imogen will do anything for Laudna, including let her go if that would truly bring Laudna peace, even if that would destroy Imogen.

2. Delilah fundamentally cannot fathom Laudna having agency.

Obviously, Delilah views herself as above Laudna, and better than Laudna in every way. Before Laudna died, Delilah more than likely viewed her as a poor, uneducated girl with very narrow options in life, and after Laudna died, as a dead woman trying to and often unable to make ends meet, make connections, or get ahead in life at all.

The events of Laudna's life have not afforded her much in the way of agency, even in the parts where Delilah wasn't present.

But, Laudna still had this spark of potential, so Delilah pounced.

The whole toxic/abusive relationship thing has been discussed in the context of these two before for obvious reasons. Delilah took advantage of a woman with few options in life and has spent the last 30 years keeping Laudna in a mindset of low self worth to make sure she stayed pliable and usable in that way.

One thing about all of this though, and I've seen one person mention this, but it's not that widely discussed, is that Delilah has also been alone with Laudna for 30 years. She has also been deeply isolated for 30 years. And I think that's warped her perspective a little.

I don't think Delilah has ever lost sight of the fact that Laudna has this untapped potential, she's said on multiple occasions that she wants to do terrible and beautiful things with Laudna. But on some level, I wonder if she, in her extreme, extended isolation and single-minded determination to come back via Laudna, has done the thing where the abuser inadvertently succeeds in gaslighting themselves into genuinely believing that the person they are abusing will be completely non-functional without them.

I wonder if Delilah is playing a game of chance here, trying to scare Laudna and her friends enough so they won't try to get rid of her, or if she genuinely believes that Laudna literally can't live without her.

Delilah hasn't seemed terribly threatened by that fact that Imogen and the Hells have repeatedly encouraged Laudna's agency and expressed to her over and over again that she is powerful on her own, that she doesn't need Delilah. Delilah has definitely reinforced the opposite, but that's more like...maintenance. Routine degradation to keep Laudna down.

Aside from the occasional poke after Laudna has a conversation about all of this with Imogen or one of the Hells, I don't think Delilah sees a need to really go all out in counteracting specific bits of growth on Laudna's part. I think that she believes that Laudna is too far gone for any encouragement to stick.

I think Delilah only brings up the "if I die, she dies" in the context of other people, because she thinks that's the only time it matters. To Delilah, Laudna doesn't have any agency, so why would she have any kind of opinion on this?

And here's where this intersects with Ludinus.

I couldn't figure out why I believed Ludinus when he said, rather dismissively, that he could totally separate Laudna and Delilah without killing Laudna, but it hit me when I was in the shower, of all places.

Ludinus spent that conversation switching between talking to the Hells, and talking to Delilah directly. He knows her, they were in the Assembly together, and they weren't exactly friends. Ludinus doesn't have friends.

Ludinus is smart. He knows he's smart. He also has an ego the size of Exandria and he is deeply invested in his own intelligence. The man is trying to kill the gods to make a point.

Ludinus might be totally fine with mass manipulation and subterfuge on a large scale (the various lies he sowed to get people to join the Vanguard, etc) but that is, in many ways, detached from him. It's a means to an end, it gets the job done. But in one on one conversations, when he talks to the Hells, he's very open, seemingly honest. This reminds me of something Brennan said in a Worlds Beyond Number talkback episode recently about the persuasiveness of openness, how honesty can make peoples' guards come down.

Genuinely, I don't think he sees any reason to lie to the Hells because he is so steadfastly sure that his view is The Correct View, and the sheep just need to be lead to pasture and then They'll See.

But also, Delilah was present when he said that it wouldn't be a problem to separate her from Laudna, so that Laudna could go on and live a life free of Delilah.

Ludinus is smart, and he needs everyone else to know he's smart, and he's not going to derive any satisfaction from getting in a dig at Delilah if he can't back it up.

let's hope I'm not super fucking wrong in a few hours, lmao.

[impishjesters]

Mafia Boss Jax x Reader

warning(s): gun mentioned, stalking mentioned, domestic/soft Jax, marriage mentioned note(s): Honestly couldn't really see much worth tagging, it's all just stuff you'd expect to see mentioned in a mafia/gang headcanon... A/N: So I saw a fanart thingie (and I've had it on the brain anyway) and it made me thirsty for some mafia boss Jax and I just... I might have to write up a one-shot (or series) at some point but this was enough to quench my thirst...temporarily. I can definitely see myself building a universe around this idea though. I'm excited as you can tell because I just kept fuckin' going in writing this out... Also feast upon domestic Jax in the latter half, I got mushy...

Jax is a tricky boss, it’s hard to get a solid read on him, as an enemy or an ally. He’s almost always sporting a grin, making it difficult to gauge unless you can tell those smiles apart. If he’s frowning? Ha.

He’s that fine middle ground of laid-back yet strict. His word is law, get shit done and do it right and he doesn’t particularly care about the rest.

This person needs to be killed, but before that, they need to be tortured for information. How you torture or kill them doesn’t matter, you get that information or else.

Rabbits are his motif design, not originally by choice but it stuck. Purple rabbit head, his signature grin, it’s childish—which is why it’s perfect, only idiots see that childish design and think “Oh this will be easy” and then it’s fuckin not.

Working for him means nobody is an exception to his little pranks and fuckery. Nothin’ too bad—not intentionally anyways. Bunch of wackos with guns, who thought they’d get trigger-happy when startled?

If you work for him, chances are he finds you a fun target for his mischief.

He might seem buddy buddy with you, but remember he’s your boss. Chances are you are acquaintances at best, not friends. At least for now—who knows?

If you’re dating him, well howdy hey aren’t you a pretty little thing on his arm?

Just kidding, regardless of whether you work under him or not you are given standard gun training as protection for yourself and him, but mainly yourself.

He does like it when you are his date for any events, though he’ll never say it. Jax is the type to bring up an event and do the whole shtick of “guess I’ll need to find a date” sorta guy.

Back on the topic of dating him and gun training—on the off chance you are dating and don’t know about his little crew and lifestyle… What the fuck’s wrong with you? Are you that blind? His position isn’t some well-kept secret, well not to anyone who knows anything.

Jax is pretty straightforward about it, except with his track record of joking there’s like a 97% chance you thought he was kidding when he said he’s a mafia boss. Ha, surprise.

Now if the two of you are dating, and you aren’t part of his little world then he does do his best to keep you out of it. This means that there are periods when you won’t see him, whether it’s because he’s busy or for safety reasons.

You aren’t safe from spam texts, calls, and video chats though. Nah, that’s all fair game to him baby.

Oh, you got work in the morning? Tough, he’ll stay on the phone/video with you until you pass out—he might go a step further and stay on the call for hours even if you are unconscious.

He does it for one of three reasons…

One, it gives him fuel to use whatever shit you say or do in your sleep to tease you with later.

Two, your company, albeit silent and unaware that you’re keeping him company, makes him feel less alone. Moments like this are often when he’s not working and at home, alone. Hearing you breathe, babble, and shuffle around on speaker has him feeling less alone in that big home of his.

Three, it gives him some piece of mind that you are okay, he can see and hear you, and no guns or glass are breaking to be heard. You’re safe. Moments like this are usually after stressful events, whether it’s a job gone wrong, someone injured, etc.

Those calls usually last through the night into the morning and you wake up and see the call still on or see him on the screen. He’s never told you about why some calls continue into the morning, or rather why he’s still awake when he should’ve been sleeping. Though it doesn’t take a genius to figure out it’s not just him being a stalker, but something more serious—if the oddly sweet tone he uses when telling you good morning and asking how you slept is anything to go by.

That said, Jax is not a morning person—even to you. Though if he’s awake before you or has yet to sleep, he’s oddly tender and domestic when it’s just the two of you.

“How’d ya sleep, angel? Dream of me? Nah, don’t answer that, I know ya did.”

“Hey sleepyhead, got ya coffee and breakfast ready. No, I didn’t put anything suspicious in it. I’m wounded doll, ya think I’d put in all that effort to make you breakfast just to ruin it?”

Okay so he’s still a little shit, but he’s got an unspoken soft spot for you.

Speaking of soft spots, if he’s truly down bad for you then that means you are his weakness. He can’t have those—no he’s not gonna kill ya Christ calm down—that means you’re at risk of getting hurt if word gets out.

So if the two of you aren’t at that level yet and are still living apart, he tries hard to keep his distance to keep the attention off you.

But if you are living together? You’re still at risk but he’s got his security measures, and bodyguards galore—even if you don’t live together he always has someone watching you—sure it’s a little creepy but just don’t think about it alright?

I said don’t think about it.

Jax does yet doesn’t understand the line of stalking. To him he’s keeping you safe, to you it’s likely an invasion of your privacy—but if you are anything like me then as long as there’s no malicious intent he can do his own thing. I dunno bout you but I’d rather him have eyes on me than something bad happen to me.

While living together it doesn’t take a genius to tell you that Jax visibly relaxes in your presence, especially when he comes home and gets into bed with you. He’s such a domestic sucker deep down, but you don’t need words to see that.

Overall, I feel like Jax wouldn’t date you if he didn’t have serious feelings for you. His lifestyle isn’t for everyone and he doesn’t open up to just anyone, it could take years before he finally allows himself to even ask you out on a date before considering more. But once the two of you are together he sees the two of you in for the long run, he’ll probably be upfront about it and say if you aren’t in this for the long run and potential marriage then he can’t do it.

Your Jax’s ride or die, please allow him to be yours too.

[literallys-illiteracy]

New Trailer thoughts and notes:

Oh wow im so gay:

Mommy? sorry. Mommy? sorry. Mommy? sorry. Mommy?

I dont even like Rodion, in fact i still dislike her but... Uh. wow?

Theres not too much to note here, im the EGO person not the ID analysis person (at least for now :3), but for the skills.

Skill 1 appears to be 2 coins piercing. Skill 2 appears to be 3 coins, likely Piercing. Skill 3 appears to be 4 coins, almost certainly Piercing as well. Unlike the other 2 La Mancha Land ID's we've received so far, she seems to have a skill 4 rather than an empowered skill 3, being Dulci's Finale attack, which appears to be 4 coins of AOE piercing.

Finally, she appears to mark the return of playable clashable counters, hopefully we get an unbreakable coin counter, but thats just being a bit too hopeful.

also this ID has the most fanservice of any in the entire history of the game, and of COURSE it needs to be on a character that i dislike just so i cant thirst as hard over her.

Fell Bullet Yi Sang:

First i want to note some things about the art within this EGO's art; most notably is the shattered glass effect and presence of the fluchshutz itself in the background, while it does appear in Heathcliff's fell bullet ID, with its back facing heathcliff's, instead it appears in the centremost shard, with its barrel facing Yi Sang's head.

This note is furthered by the awakening line making mention of "The gun barrel on *My* viscera", rather than another's as in the fluchshutze's story.

The second divergence from Heathcliff's art is the lack of the fluchshutze's traits, having not the halfed face covering that heathcliff had, nor the reddened scarf. This is notable for the main reason that, in the awakening animation of heathcliff's, his face was entirely obscured with said mask of the shooter — These differences in appearance could be due to a number of reasons, even as an arbitrary choice, but it is likely due to resonance with the EGO itself, Heathcliff's being much stronger and thus taking on more traits of the abnormality.

The third divergence and one i will return to later, is the lack of a pendant. If you look at the shooter's art, at Heathcliff's fell bullet art as well, there is a clear pendant visible around their neck, the last remnants of their loved past. Keep note of that i suppose.

Now onto the awakening skill, something interesting to note is the fact that it seems to hit an ally as well as multiple enemies, shooting through heathcliff's Heart'(?), (its not a visible enough detail to note for sure, but i am assuming that this is intended), just in the same way that the devil's final bullet peirced the heart of the freischutz. Also, I think that PM still don't really know how guns work, because, just like the Thumb's "Muskets" that is a rifle. Im not particularly into guns but im 90% sure so.

If we're counting friendly fire, then it seems to have an attack weight of 7, with the latter coin (as he fires twice) seeming to only hit 2, the ally and one of the enemies targeted by the first.

The Corrosion is interesting, the sprite making Yi Sang take the form of a mirror, likely the form of the pendant itself (although there are like 4 mirrors in the sprite so take with that what you will). Contrast this with Heathcliff's corrosion sprite, being that of the heart, for that same reason that Heathcliff seems to be the one used as a friendly fire target in the awakening, for the devil wishes for despair, and to eventually claim their heart.

The corrosion appears to have one coin, and about 6-7 attack weight, once again counting Heathcliff, who remains in the very centre of the ironsights, (Or scope rather, as the gun is changed in the corrosion to include one, despite the art of the Fluchshutz' depicting the ironsights.

The screen that flashes before the shot is "IFF system - Level 3: Deactivated". From what i've found, an IFF system is "Identification Friend or Foe" which should be pretty self evident to its relation here.

Ill make a longer/separate post discussing the WHY of Yi Sang getting this EGO, and any other tangents along the way, but from what it seems, this is likely going to be a Pride or Gloom skill (if i were to guess), and have 2 coins on awakening. It seems to be the first awakening since SOUPCLAIR to be indiscriminate.

[minisugakoobies]

Day 5 ❄️ JHS

Kinks: praise kink, Christmas cookies

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: holiday, smut, Brother's Best Friend!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: swearing, kissing, just some good ol' fashioned fingerbanging in the kitchen, a bit of exhibitionism, praise kink, maybe a touch of sub/dom between reader and Hoseok, once again I am writing Stoner!Hobi with the addition of stoner himbos Joon Tae and JK, egregious use of the word 'cookies' as metaphor for reader's 🐱

Word Count: 3K

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: Your brother’s best friend Hoseok really likes your cookies

A/N: I wrote this one in one shot, in a fugue state after watching Hobi's 2022 MAMA performance. Please picture that Hobi here. 🥴

Please don't be a silent reader 🥺 I'd love to know what you think! 💕

Day 4 ❄️ Kinkmas Masterlist ❄️ Day 6

Grey snow slushes under your boots as you slowly make your way home from the bus stop. Another double shift down. Working as a server around the holidays is miserable. Between the irate shoppers making non-stop demands and the incessant Christmas music blasting through the overhead speakers, it’s enough to turn anyone into a Scrooge. 

But it’s fine. You’ll live. Just a few more days and the holidays will be behind you. And so will all these double shifts, hopefully. You’ve been saving up so you can have enough for the first and last month’s rent on a tiny little studio apartment a few blocks from here. A fresh start to the new year, in a place of your own. Where you can enjoy some peace and quiet for once. 

A place free from the chaos that greets you as you slip your key into the lock of your current home and swing the door open. Smoke floats past you into the hallway. Scrunching up your face, you peer past the clouds to find, as always, your twin brother and his friends crowded around the living room tv, absorbed in a mission in some stupidly loud, obnoxiously violent video game, laughing and shouting and throwing elbows (and occasionally, a fist or two). 

“About time you got home,” your brother calls out as you peel off your boots and puffer coat, hanging the latter on the broken rack by the door. Namjoon said he’d replace that four months ago when he and his friends broke it during a particularly raucous game of flip cup. You know he’s waiting for you to do it. You’re always the responsible one around here. 

“I told you I was working a double,” you remind him, rolling your eyes. He never listens. 

The others gradually realize you’re standing there. It’s like watching the world’s slowest wave undulate around the room. First Jungkook spots you from beneath his bucket hat and lifts a hand. A few seconds later, a very sleepy-eyed Taehyung notices Jungkook’s hand in the air and raises his own. Then Hoseok, the only member of the crew sitting quietly, splayed across half the couch in his oversized tee and dark joggers, rakes his eyes over your tired frame and gives you the chillest of nods, head barely tipping as his lips quirk in a silent smile. 

Ignoring the fluttering in your stomach, you nod back. “Hey guys.” You’re too exhausted to even bother to ask them to keep it down. They would, politely, for about five minutes, before the chronic blowing through their veins made them forget. So why bother. 

You shuffle into your bedroom, strip off your uniform, pull on some fleecy pants and a long-sleeve tee, and slide on a pair of cushy slippers. The act of physically removing your day brings a sense of relief, helped along by the comfy clothes. You’d love to climb directly into bed, but you can’t. Not just yet. 

Your brother and Jungkook are locked in a double headlock when you emerge from your bedroom. Probably arguing about something that one of them did in the video game. It’s never anything serious with those guys, but it does get messy sometimes, and as you stroll through the room towards the kitchen, you quickly grab the lamp from the end table and place it on the ground before Jungkook’s arm can knock it over.

Money’s been tight for a while, not helped by the rise in rent, the rise in utilities, the rise in everything basically, so between that and the little nest egg that you’ve been stashing away, you’ve had to get a little creative with your Christmas gifts this year. As in, you’re creating them from scratch. You connect your phone to the little speaker in the kitchen and put on a relaxing playlist as you wander around the small space, pulling out ingredients and tools until you have everything you need to make your favorite cookies.

The music drifting from the speaker isn’t enough to drown out the noise from the living room, but it doesn’t matter. You fall into a trance, measuring and mixing, turning mere ingredients into food, into love. Everything else falls away. Nothing else matters but this. Baking brings you zen. 

Unfortunately, your activity does not go unnoticed. The scent of baking cookies fills the air, and before long, you have visitors. Invaders, more precisely. On the hunt for your goodies. 

As you pull the first tray out of the oven, a head pops in the doorway. A hat, really, pulled down so low you see nothing but pink lips adorned with a silver ring. “You makin’ cookies, Noona?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Is that gingerbread?” a low voice drones behind Jungkook, as Taehyung follows him into the room. “Smells so good.” Namjoon is right on his heels, mouth hanging open a little as he spies the rows of perfectly baked gingerbread people resting on the warm tray. 

“Yes, it is, but these aren’t for you, so hands off, okay?” You raise an eyebrow, looking at all three men. They nod, and you turn away to put another tray in the oven. “These are for my friends. If you’re nice, maybe I’ll whip u- HEY!” 

There are three gingerbread people missing when you turn back, and all three men are chewing while exhaling loudly, trying not to burn their mouths on the hot cookies as they devour them. As they all reach for a second, you grab a spatula and swiftly slap their hands. 

Whack whack whack!

“Mmph!” Taehyung protests, rubbing his hand. He chokes down what’s left of his cookie. “That hurt, Noona!” 

“Well, maybe listen next time and you won’t get smacked!” You brandish the spatula like a wand, pointing it at each. 

A gentle chuckle sounds from the doorway, where Hoseok is propped against the frame, laughing at his friends’ pain. “Tell ‘em,” he says, crossing his arms. “They gotta learn.” 

You bite back a grin, rolling out more dough. 

“Sorry, Noona,” Jungkook mutters. “But can’t we have a couple? ‘M so hungry.” 

“That’s because you’ve been smoking all goddamn night,” you grumble, pressing the cookie cutter in. “Namjoon, if you don’t get your friends out of my kitchen right now, I’m going to try making real gingerbread people next. Starting with you, Jungkookie.” You shoot Jungkook a look, the one that he always tells you reminds him of Namjoon, even though you’re fraternal twins and don’t look a thing alike, and he holds his hands up in defense. 

“Come on. Be happy she only used the spatula, she’s lethal with that rolling pin,” your brother informs his friends as he shepherds them out of the room. “Yo, Tae-yah, you still got that hookup with that girl at the dumpling shop?”

Hoseok remains behind, studying your work. You don’t mind. Of all your brother’s friends, he’s usually the most respectful, quietly observing the mayhem around him. You’re used to the sensation of his eyes on you. 

Sometimes it’s what you think about, late at night, lying under the sheets, hand down your panties, biting your tongue to muffle your cries. Those dark eyes, watching you. 

“These are for your friends?” Hoseok finally speaks, pushing himself off the door frame. Hands in his pockets, he strolls towards you, still watching as you prepare another batch.

“Yeah. Not a lot of money for gifts this year, so…” you shrug. The heat from the oven has turned the tiny room into a sauna. Your fleecy pants feel like a terrible choice. Wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand, you look up at Hoseok, and he laughs. 

“You’ve got a bit of…” He trails off as he steps closer, and your breath catches in your chest as he raises a hand to brush across your forehead. His gentle fingertips come away with flour on them. 

“Th-thanks,” you stammer, quickly busying yourself with the dough again, cutting out enough to finish filling the tray. 

“So can I have one then?” 

“Uh…” Loud yelling from the living room tells you that your brother and the other two have started their game again. 

Hoseok leans against the counter, heart-shaped mouth set in a soft smile. “You said they’re for your friends. We’re friends, right?” 

Friends. Right. That’s what you are. “Yeah, sure.”

He beams then, a brilliant smile that flashes across his face in an instant and then disappears. Even though the cookies are identical, he takes a moment to examine the selection before picking one. 

“This one looks perfect,” he announces, and you hum distractedly, moving cooled cookies into containers. Even though you’re not looking at him, you know exactly when he bites into the cookie, because he lets out a loud moan. “Mmmmm!” 

You hum again, trying to ignore the fact that his effusive response went straight to your gut. You continue to pack the treats away, filling the tins you’ll be giving to your friends.

“Didn’t know you had this talent,” he muses, chewing thoughtfully. “Why’ve you been hiding it?” 

“I haven’t been hiding it,” you laugh, cocking an eyebrow. “I just haven’t had much time to bake lately.” 

“Yeah, I noticed you haven’t been around much,” he states, and you hope he doesn’t see the way you freeze momentarily at his words. “You’re working yourself to death. You gotta take time to relax, you know.” 

“Oh? Never heard that before, thanks for the advice,” you grin. “I just gotta get through the holidays and then I can relax.”

“In your new place, right?” He reads the surprise on your face. “Joon told us you’re moving out.” 

“Yeah, I am. I just need my own space.” 

He nods.

After sliding the last tray in the oven, you help yourself to a cookie. 

Hoseok grins. “There you go, that’s more like it. Enjoy a little treat. They’re really good.” He tilts his head. “Can I have another?” 

You have just enough cookies to fill all the tins you’d purchased, just enough batches for all of your friends. But what’s one more?

“Yeah, okay, but that’s it.” 

Again, he deliberates before choosing one. As his teeth sink in, he lets out another groan, and you clench involuntarily at the way his voice drops into a low rasp. “Fuck, these are so good!”

Is this what he sounds like all the time? Maybe it’s a good thing he’s always so quiet when he’s here. Because you’re wet enough that you can feel your underwear sticking to you as you start to clean up.

“Seriously, what do I have to do to get one of these tins?” he asks, tapping on a lid. 

You nearly bite your lip in half as you keep all your suggestions at bay. “Listen, if you really want some, I’ll just make another small batch, okay? I think I have enough ingredients left…” 

“Mmmm, you’re such a good baker! The best!” Hoseok moans around a mouthful, and you’re not sure if it’s his husky tone, or the words themselves, but something hits you like a bolt, and you swallow thickly. 

And then you whimper. 

Your eye is immediately drawn to Hoseok, like your body wants you to see his reaction even as your brain is cringing. He pauses with his hand to his mouth, little gingerbread legs in the air, and stares at you for a moment before he blinks. 

“Uh, this batch will just take a minute,” you inform him, nervously grabbing your spatula again for something to do. 

Hoseok just nods. “It’s nice of you to make some more. Thank you.” He shifts a little, comes closer so you’re between him and the counter. 

“Oh, that’s - sure. You’re welcome.” Waving your spatula to emphasize that it's nothing, you start to measure your ingredients again, hyper aware of his nearness. If you turned your head right now, you know you’d see those dark eyes watching you. It’s so tempting, but you keep pouring your flour. 

“You’re such a sweetheart, you know that?” he says, but it’s really more of a purr with all that bass rumbling through his voice, and again you feel that pulse of arousal hit you, and this time you clearly whine. 

Again, you glance directly at Hoseok as the sound fades, and can’t move as his eyes slowly wander down to your breasts and back. 

“You’re always so good to us when we’re here. Always taking care of us. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” He moves towards you, slow and sure, his arms coming up to grip the counter on either side of you, caging you in. “Like tonight, cleaning up so we don’t break stuff. Or feeding us, even when you say you won’t. Such a sweet girl.” You’re gripping the spatula so hard, you think it might crack. If you leaned forward just the slightest bit, your nose would brush his. “Such a good girl.” 

For once, you’re thankful for the loud commotion in the living room, because it means your brother did not just hear you moan, “Fuck, Hoseok,” in the kitchen.

You’ve never seen such a wicked smile from your brother’s best friend as he gently peels the spatula from your hand. “You like it when I call you a good girl?” 

What is happening to you makes no sense. You spend all day getting called ‘good girl’ by patronizing customers and sexist assholes. And yet when Hoseok rolls those words around his pretty pink tongue, you become a whimpering, wet mess. 

Maybe it’s because he seems to mean it. Or maybe it’s because it’s him. Either way, you let out a strangled noise at his question, and his grin sharpens. 

“That’s what I thought.” His lips hover over yours. “Can I kiss you, sweet girl?” 

The only way to answer him is with your own lips, tilting your chin up to meet his mouth. The kiss is soft, lingering, like he’s taking his time studying your lips the way he’s always studying you with his gaze. Then he slides his tongue out, tapping at your bottom lip, and you let him in, let him press his body against yours, nearly gasping when his hard length pushes against your hip. 

“Hoseok, you want some dumplings? We’re getting some!” 

As if your brother’s voice were a bolt of lightning striking between you, you and Hoseok split apart. Hoseok looks at you for a moment, chest rising as he catches his breath. 

“Nah, man, I’m good. Got a sweet treat instead,” Hoseok shouts back. You roll your eyes and he smirks.

“Aw, did you get a cookie? That’s not fair!” Jungkook exclaims.

“Shut up, you had one too, dumbass!” With that, you hear the recognizable sound of your brother and Jungkook wrestling again. 

A sudden yank on the waistband of your pants draws your attention. Hoseok tugs again, and then he slips his fingers beneath. 

He doesn’t move his hand, just slides it into your pants, and stares into your eyes. You hold your breath as you hear another shout. 

“I want another cookie, Noona!” Taehyung yells. “Aren’t they good, Hoseok?” 

Hoseok crooks an eyebrow, just the slightest bit, and you nod. His fingers dip between your thighs, and when they find the wetness there, he hisses. “They’re so good, Tae-yah!” he declares, middle finger disappearing between your folds. 

Your hands grasp at his biceps as you pitch forward, moaning at the sudden intrusion. His finger is long enough to curl perfectly into your most sensitive spot, and he employs a rapid tickling motion that makes your knees buckle. 

“Hoseok, holy fuck!” 

Is this really happening? Are you really letting your brother’s best friend fingerfuck you in the kitchen? Where anyone could walk in and see him knuckle deep in your throbbing cunt? 

Yes, it is. And you know what? You deserve this little treat.

“Ah, sweet girl, I just love your cookies so much.” Hoseok licks his lips as he adds a second finger. “Can’t resist.”

Taehyung calls again. “Can I please have another?” 

“Focus on the game, hyung, damn!” Jungkook yells, but not a second later adds, “Can I have one too?”

The thrusting of Hoseok’s fingers makes it hard for you to think straight. Everything about this moment makes it difficult, honestly - the way his arms flex under your fingers, the way his cock keeps bumping against your thigh, the way his eyes haven’t left yours for a second. 

“Tell them no,” Hoseok whispers, thumb ghosting over your clit before he presses into the nub firmly enough to make your hips buck into his hand. “No more for them!” 

“N…” Hoseok pushes against your clit again and you see stars. “No, no cookies for you!” 

There’s a burst of laughter from the living room that perfectly covers the wail you let out as Hoseok fucks you with three fingers, hard and fast. 

“Good girl,” he whispers, free hand cupping the back of your neck to kiss you. “So sweet, so good for me.” And with that praise, you come with a muffled cry against his lips. When your cunt stops clenching around his fingers, he removes them, and brings them to his mouth to suck them clean.

You groan, lightly pushing on his chest. He laughs, taking a step back, and you suck in a deep breath, trying to regain your composure. “Don’t make me grab the spatula.” 

“Think you’ll do any baking in your new place?” 

Caught off guard by the question, you furrow your brows. “Probably?” 

“Good. You better text me if you do.” His gaze roams your body again, and you swear you feel an aftershock from your orgasm. “I definitely want more of your cookies.”

Masterlist ❄️ Find me on AO3 ❄️

© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

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[firstelevens]

YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS ⚾️⚾️⚾️⚾️⚾️⚾️

⚾️ America's Pastime/Sports

At some point, in the latter half of Bucky's multi-modal trauma therapy in Wakanda, Dr. Sisulu had walked him through some of the benchmarks of recovery. She'd done the spiel that Bucky was familiar with the recite by heart by now, reminding him that healing wasn't linear, nor did it look the same for any two people, and that benchmarks could only ever be a reference point because not everybody valued the same things.

There had been one on the chart that hadn't quite made sense, something about 'low-stakes, variable investment' in 'arbitrary, non-essential social activities.' When he'd asked about it, Dr. Sisulu had laughed and said, "It means that one day, you might care about really stupid things for no reason other than the fact that it just feels good."

Bucky had tried to offer a smile in response and nodded like he understood, but even a year out of pure survival mode, none of that had seemed particularly possible for him.

Half a decade later, as Bucky and Sarah and the boys filed onto a set of bleachers toting snacks and posters and an absurdly large foam finger, her words came rushing back to him.

A friendly game between the families of AJ's baseball team--the Bullfrogs--and those of their sworn rivals from the next parish--the Lightning Bugs--was the definition of a non-essential thing to care about. Still, Bucky had cleared his schedule, flown down to Louisiana, and taken himself off the roster of on-call Avengers for the week, all so he could be there to see it. He'd even helped AJ and Cass with the posters, drawing some appropriately cartoon-y bullfrogs, then wielding the boxcutter to cut out the cardboard wings that Cass had wanted to attach to the foam finger.

It had seemed so far away and impossible the first time he'd considered it, and now here he was. There was a faint sting in his nose that Bucky recognized, and he moved quickly to distract himself before his eyes could well up, pointing to the dugout and asking AJ about who was playing for the Bullfrogs.

AJ's explanations were detailed the way they always were, anecdotes peppered in about nearly everyone on the team, complete with corrections and commentary from Cass. It kept Bucky busy until the Bullfrogs emerged from the dugout, set to field first, and the Delacroix half of the bleachers burst into cheers, AJ's teammates the loudest of all.

Bucky was sure he wasn't imagining the Lightning Bugs' side joining in as the pitcher appeared on the field, either, mitt in hand and a grin on his face as he jogged over to the mound. Immediately, AJ and Cass were on their feet, holding up one of their posters along with the winged foam finger.

Their hooting and hollering was enough to draw Sam's eye, and he threw his head back laughing as he saw their poster, complete with a shield-wielding bullfrog. His eyes moved to Bucky next, shaking his head in exasperation even as he grinned.

Bucky could have just smiled back, or waved, or busted out the second foam finger that had wings and a 3D shield, just to further bedevil Sam, but he didn't do any of those things. Instead, he sarcastically blew Sam a kiss, and then watched with wide eyes as Sam pretended to catch it and tuck it away in his pocket with a wink.

"It just feels good," Dr. Sisulu had said, and as Bucky's face grew warm and his heart raced a little faster, he had to admit that she was right. It did.

[lostbrazilian]

Ok so, i've finished SotE a few days ago and i fucking LOVED IT and i need to talk about it, particularly about Miquella. Because the thing is, i really like what From has done with his character but also i've seen a lot of discourse about it and i need to get my 2 cents in before i explode

So uh, long ass essay and spoilers below

First things first:

Character assassination my ASS

Fromsoft actually did fucking character necromancy the way they added depth to otherwise one-note characters. Even if unexpected, what we learn in the dlc makes a disturbing amount of sense and ultimately elevates the game's lore in my "humble but objectively correct" opinion. That being said, while Miquella is undoubtedly a irredemable villain by the time we fight him, his character is also much more than just the "gay evil twink" ppl make him out to be

Elden Ring's demigods, while powerful and often monstrous, are also very clearly people: they have feelings, ambitions, ideals and tragic elements about them, which is why many of them are very likeable or at least compelling characters. And Miquella is a prime example of this, because the driving force behind his character, and ultimately the reason of his downfall, is his compassion

Miquella saw the flaws of the Golden Order from a young age, mainly how it oppressed others and was powerless to help his sister. And everything he has done since has been in an attempt to bring about a better, more compassionate world for all. And while the way he manipulates others and removes their free weill is a clearly nefarious aspect of his plans, that doesn't mean his kindness wasn't genuine, for two main reasons:

First, many of Miquella's followers go on to stand with him even after their charm has been broken, which makes clear that many are koyal to Miquella not just because of brainwashing, but also because they genuinely believe in his end goals. And while we'll never have confirmation of this, i don't think the denizens of the Haligtree, or Malenia for that matter, are all under Miquella's spell. At the very least the majority of them must've willingly chosen to remain loyal to him (plus, his charming powers must have a limit of some kind, otherwise he wouldn't need to become a god to rule the lands between)

Secondly, St Trina's very existence proves that Miquella's love and compassion is not only genuine, it's strong enough to manifest as a whole ass second being, which in turn makes her abandonment all the more tragic. It's possible that Miquella himself was always driven by ambition, and that he saw his other half as a "weakness" to be expunged; Or perhaps casting Trina away was a necessary evil, a selfless sacrifice in the name of a greater good. Regardless of the reason (i tend towards the latter), the end result is clear: It was grave mistake

For without love, there can be no Compassion. Miquella's Age of Compassion would be doomed to become an era of subjugation and endless war, where those who resist Miquella's charm would not be allowed to exist. It's an end result that Miquella himself would definitely NOT want, but it's the one he uwittingly locks himself into after he casts away his humanity. Hence why St Trina begs us to kill Miquella, as she understands his ascension would essentially result in a fate worse than death for him

So, TL;DR: I think Miquella genuinely wanted to create a better world, but in his quest to do so not only did he forcefully take away the free will of others, he also wound up becoming a heartless monster that, if unchecked, would bring about great suffering to the world and himself. It's classic "good intentions, bad outcome" tragic writing and ultimately it makes Miquella a very memorable and compelling character, even if he is ultimately a villain

[truerhearts]

Envy - Eren Jaeger

Eren x fem!reader, pt 1/2 (pt2 in progress)

3.2k words

tw - slight sexual assault/mentions of assault 

dom!eren

Eren and (y/n) have had a confusing, game-playing relationship for a while now. All that changes when he sees Floch getting a bit too close to the reader.

.・。.・゜✭ .・。.・゜✭ .・。.・゜✭

Emotions were something that never came easily to Eren. His head and his heart constantly at war, and he was caught in the crossfire.

He knew he loved her. He knew he loved her from the moment he laid eyes on her. From their short interactions to him lying awake in his bed, thinking about their future together once the war was over, he was in love.

But he’d never dare admit it. He needed to remain cold, stoic. He had priorities. And he wouldn’t allow himself to get close to anyone anymore, lest they perish. He couldn’t go through that again. The pain of losing so many of those close around him was unbearable. But this meant he did get good at shutting his feelings away. The only way to get by was to numb the pain. There was no time to mourn anymore, there were more important things at hand.

And with that, he had to make a choice. He always kept her at arms length, being curt in his responses and limiting contact.

But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t steal looks from her whenever she wasn’t looking. Quite frequently. He was smart about it though. He got caught only when he wanted her to catch him. And when she did catch him, time would stop as they gazed at each other. This was just one of his ways of dropping a hint. Others would include brushing against her while walking by, or helping her with the many impossible buckles of their uniforms. The latter was one he particularly enjoyed - it would make her flustered, his touch while innocent in the moment sent her mind running wild at other time he’d be fiddling with her uniform buckles. Eren would walk away from the encounter triumphant, though he wouldn’t let her see it. His heart wanted her, but his mind wouldn’t let him, to protect himself.

She admired Eren, much more than Eren would ever think she did. His willpower and strength were something she appreciated. And, he was quite easy on the eyes, watching him during his training ignited a fire inside her. His toned body glistening with moisture from his hard work, his hair in a messy half up half down bun with the strands sticking carelessly to his forehead. The sight of him in that state almost felt illegal to gaze at. Chest heaving, mouth ajar, skin flushed, veins protruding. Whenever she knew he was training she’d conveniently be hanging around, just to catch a few glimpses that sent her imagination running wild.

She thought she was being sneaky, but Eren always knew she was there watching him the whole time. He’d embellish a bit sometimes, putting on a good show for her, but he always acted like he couldn’t see her. He didn’t want her to stop coming to watch, it inflated his ego and gave him a bit of a rush.

Despite her strong feelings and undeniable attraction towards Eren, she was frustrated with him. Whenever she tried to speak with him, he would cut things short and move on. He had changed over the years, understandably so. But she wanted to be his shoulder to lean on when things got dark. She truly imagined she could help him with whatever he needed. If only he would let her in.

All of this would change one fateful night. The scouts had a collective day off the next day, which were far and few between. No responsibilities early the next morning meant celebrations in the evening. Most of the soldiers were in the mess hall drinking their sorrows away. It was loud and rowdy, but such distractions were much needed in such dire times.

Eren was sitting with his usual crowd, his face slightly more red than usual. He felt laid back and relaxed, swirling the alcohol in his cup as Armin was reminiscing with him and Mikasa. Though Eren wasn’t paying attention. His gaze was set on her. She was across the room, but he had the perfect view of her.

The only problem?

She and Floch looked like they were getting just a bit too friendly for Eren’s liking.

This was all part of her plan though. She wanted Eren to get jealous. Test the waters a bit, just to see if he did have any sort of feelings for her. But little did she know that Eren was a lot more possessive of her than he ever let on.

She quickly glanced over, making direct eye contact with his striking green eyes. Butterflies rapidly filled her stomach and time came to a stop as she took in the sight of him. He was sitting in his chair sideways, back resting against the wall, his body facing hers. His aura radiated confidence and a bit of desire, a dangerous combination. One arm resting on the back of his chair, the other on the table, gripping his empty cup. A strand of his hair gracefully falling out of place as she noticed the light blush on his cheeks.

Again, illegal. She felt the heat rush to her cheeks as Eren refused to be the first one to break eye contact. They sat there gazing at one another for what felt like an eternity before (much to her dismay) Floch brought her back to reality.

“(Y/n)?” Floch asked. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” She turned back to Floch, giving him a slight smile.

“Okay, good, so anyways…” Floch continued, but his words were drowned out in her mind that was plagued with thoughts of Eren. She was pulled from her thoughts when she heard Floch inch his chair closer.

“Floch, “she began. “What are you- “

He placed his hand on her thigh and gripped it. “Is something the matter?”

She didn’t know what to say. She immediately looked to Eren, who had never taken his eyes off of them. It now looked like he was going to crush the glass with his bare hand. Though she could see his anger in his strained hand, he remained expressionless, other than a slight twitch in his eyebrow. Seeing Floch that close to her triggered something inside him. He watched them intently, rage igniting inside him, waiting for what would happen next.

She didn’t know whether to stop Floch or let him proceed. She didn’t necessarily dislike him, but out of most of the cadets he definitely wasn’t her first choice. She felt bad for using him to provoke Eren’s jealousy, but she needed to get some sort of reaction out of the stoic boy. She couldn’t stand his indifference towards her anymore and she thought this was the best way to do it. And, while perhaps it wasn’t the best way to get his attention, she was right, rage was building inside of Eren.

He kept a cool exterior, but he watched intently, pondering his options, and waiting for their next move. But at this rate he knew he had to act. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but Eren’s inhibitions were washing away that evening, and though she hadn’t done anything different to her appearance, Eren craved her more than he usually did, and he didn’t think he’d be able to hold himself back tonight.

Floch leaned in closely, his warm breath hitting her ear, the smell of alcohol that was radiating off of him was quite potent. “I’m not getting the wrong impression, am I?” He questioned innocently, his hand moving up her thigh, dangerously close to her core. Floch blocked her view of Eren, and she didn’t know how to respond. His hot breath bathed her neck and she decided he was going too far. She placed her hand on top of his to move it off.

That was it. Eren took the last swig of his alcohol before placing glass down forcefully. He stood up from his chair, almost tipping it over.

Armin paused his story as he watched Eren walk away. “Eren, where are you going?” Armin asked. Eren didn’t reply. He made his way over to her and Floch, trying his hardest to contain himself and his anger.

“Floch.” Eren said lowly. “What do you think you’re doing?” His words sharp like the blades they used to slay titans.

Floch pulled away from her and scoffed. “What is it to you?” He looked up at Eren and was met with the most jarring expression on his face. Eren’s face was blank, but it was in his eyes. The look in his eyes was indescribable, being only comparable to what one would describe as mad, unhinged, deranged. He managed to intimidate Floch with only one look. Floch was about to speak again but Eren made a move. He slammed his hand between them on the table, making Floch back fully away from her. The slam was loud enough to make her flinch, and to gather the attention of those in close vicinity.

“What’s your problem, Eren?” Floch asked in a condescending tone, rising to his feet, trying his best to stand up to Eren.

“You.” Eren leered, inching closer to Floch. They were so close they could feel their breath on each others faces.

(Y/n) felt like she had to do something before this escalated, she could feel the rage radiating off Eren and she didn’t know what he would be capable of, especially if he was a little tipsy.

“Eren, please,” she whispered, placing a hand in his shoulder, “Stop.”

“You heard her, Eren. Back off.” Floch threatened.

He shrugged her off, maintaining eye contact with Floch, not faltering one bit. Floch was about to push Eren, but Eren was the superior soldier (what with all his extra training and all.) Before anyone could realize what was happening, Eren had Floch on the table, gripping his wrists behind his back with one hand, the other holding his head. The room went silent, those who weren’t already watching turned their heads, their drunken gazes fixed situation.

(Y/n) tugged his arm. “Eren, please!” She said through gritted teeth. He listened this time, but he wouldn’t leave without saying a final few words to Floch. He leaned down and spoke in the struggling boy’s ear.

“You better stay away from her.” He said, his words tinged with venom.

He shrugged her off again but then grabbed her wrist tightly, dragging her out of the mess hall, their comrades silent as they watched (Y/n) and Eren exit. The door closed behind them with a slam, and they were alone in the hallway together. She tried to free herself from his grip, but Eren wasn’t letting up.

“Eren… let go.” She struggled. He wasn’t listening, he was too angry about what just happened. He was angry with himself, letting Floch (of all people) get so close to her like that. If he just would have said something sooner, she would have been around him tonight. Maybe it’s time to stop playing games…

“You’re hurting me…” She pleaded. He finally realized and let go.

He turned to face her, brows furrowed, an exhausted expression on his flushed face. “Sorry…” He mumbled.

She rubbed her wrist as she gazed at him. She sighed. “I think we need to talk,”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Eren said, shoving his hands in his pockets and starting off in the other direction. He had enough of the evening. He thought it best to head to bed before he did something else he’d regret in the morning.

“No.” she said, running in front of him, blocking him from proceeding. She took in the sight of him, his messy hair, his flushed face, his green eyes, illuminated by a torch burning in the hall, and the moonlight coming in from the adjacent windows. Her mind went back to just a few moments ago, when she met Eren’s gaze from across the room, and then his display possessiveness over her. It was probably quite excessive in the moment, but the thought of it did something to her. She remained composed even though those fiery little butterflies were creeping back in again. “We need to talk.”

He grumbled. “Fine, but we’re not doing it here.” He said, walking past her. She followed him, walking through the dark corridors of the castle they were calling HQ. He finally made it to the meeting room. No one would be in here this late, it was the perfect place to talk.

He took a seat on the ledge by the window, arms crossed, gazing out into the night. She sat on the table facing him. They sat in silence for a while, Eren appearing more interested with whatever he was looking at outside. Some trees maybe.

She huffed, knowing she’d have to carry this conversation. “What was that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said flatly.

“Don’t be an idiot. Why did you do that to Floch?”

“You know why.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

He was confusing her. The games he would play would frustrate her to no end. Helping her with her buckles, making and holding eye contact, his lingering touch. But then countering it with limited interactions, short, indifferent responses, brushing her off. She wanted him to say it plainly for her, that way she could know for sure.

Eren, though keeping his cool on the exterior, was having a battle inside his head. Mulling over the outcomes and consequences if he came out and told her how he truly felt right then and there. Did he dare get close and end up possibly losing her down the line? Maybe that was the unfortunate part that comes with the beauty of love. Like many things in this world, it must balance. Night and day, hot and cold… love and loss.

In any other situation, Eren probably would have shrugged her off like he normally did, but tonight he had some liquid courage in his system, making his better judgement take a step back for one night.

Eren turned his head to look at her, the moonlight that crept in through the window illuminated her beautifully, making her look angelic.

He pushed himself off the ledge of the window. He walked towards her at a painfully slow pace, eventually stopping almost on top of her so that she needed to crane her neck to look up at him. He stood between her legs; his gaze slightly softened but he wouldn’t allow her to see anything more emotional than that. “Do you really need me to spell it out for you?”

He breath caught in her throat as he placed a strong hand on her waist, another on her thigh, almost cupping her ass. She was speechless.

“I’m sure you can conclude why I did what I did to him.” He said, maintaining eye contact.  

He managed to take a step even closer to her. “I don’t ever want to see anyone get that close to you again.” He said firmly.

Hearing those swords stirred up a twisted sense of joy inside her. She wanted nothing more than to be his, but she didn’t want Eren to think she’d fall into his clutches so easily.

“I don’t really think you have the right to say that.” She spoke. “I’m not your property, I can talk to whoever I like.”

“Yeah?” Eren questioned. He got even closer to her, their noses almost touching. She grasped his upper arm, feeling how toned he was through his loose shirt. He tightened the grip he had on her waist slightly as he spoke: “That’s not really what you want though, is it. You wanted me to come over there and do something.” She could faintly smell alcohol on his breath. “Admit it. You feel the same for me as I do for you.” The tension between them was so thick, hearts beating rapidly, their need for each other growing exponentially with every passing moment.

“And what feeling is that?” She questioned without hesitation, wanting so badly, so desperately to hear him say it. Just once was all she needed to satisfy herself.

This sent Eren over the edge, frustrated that he actually needed to say it to her. He suddenly pulled her even closer to him, his hands gripping her tightly. “I want you all to myself.” He spoke, the words dripping off his tongue like sweet, sweet honey. “You’re mine. I don’t care about anything else. Just you.” He didn’t loosen his grip on her, the fire of desire burning so bright inside of him as he looked down at her. He admired her features, the way she gazed up at him with innocent, doe-like eyes, the need to possess and protect growing within him.

She placed a hand gingerly on his chest, gripping his shirt tightly and pulling him closer to her.  “I’m all yours, Eren.” She said, barely above a whisper, fully submitting to him.

That’s all he needed to hear before moving his hand from her thigh to her arm, tracing a slow, deliberate path that sent shivers cascading through her body.  His touch ignited an even stronger primal fire within her, and her body now demanded fulfillment. His fingers moved from her arm to the back of her head, tangling them in her hair, grasping it gently while pushing her face towards his.  

His touch was much gentler than she anticipated, but still strong and commanding. Their lips finally met in a searing kiss, a messy amalgamation of heat, urgency, and desire that set their souls ablaze. Their tongues and teeth clashed, her hands reaching up to play with the hair at the back of his head that never made it into his lazy, messy bun. As she pulled him in slightly closer, Eren’s need for her became much more evident. He pushed his body against hers, moving one of his hands to the small of her back, further pushing her into his body.

Her hands never rested, moving from his back to his waist, lingering on his abdomen and chest, then up his neck finally resting on his shoulders. But they wouldn’t stay there for long as she repeated the process again, never getting tired of the feeling of him under her touch.

He didn’t want the moment to end. The feeling of her dragging her fingers up and down his body drove him wild and had him craving even more from her. An ache that demanded satiation. He deepened the kiss, making it evident that he craved and needed more of her.

He reluctantly pulled away from her, his eyes lingering on her lips as if unwilling to let go. He removed his shirt, carelessly tossing it to the side, revealing his sculpted physique. The soft light accentuated the contours of his body, which further captivated her gaze. He stepped forward again. “Do you want this?”

She gazed up at him again with her doe-like eyes and nodded. He leaned in, his lips connecting with the taut skin of her neck before growling in her ear. “Then say it.” His hands reached for her belt, which he then slowly began unbuckling at a painful pace. She stayed silent until Eren looked into her eyes again, silently urging her to say what he wanted to hear.

“I-I want this.” She whispered. “I want you.” She gazed into those green eyes she was so familiar with, desire burning in her own. Despite everything they had put each other through, the toxic games they played with each other, they were here, right now, together. Eren stood up and smiled slightly at her as the words fell from her lips into the thickened air around them.

“Much better.”

a/n: I had a lot of fun writing this ngl... the TENSION, and just picturing eren getting all jealous just really got me goin ya know... I debated taking it further but I wasn’t sure if I should have lol

Edit: part 2 is now posted!!

MASTERLIST