#right. right. so you admit it? the gay ship is what matters.

[smallbutpowerful]

I think what the FF16 fandom doesn't like to acknowledge is if Terence was a female character, the canon Dion/Joshua interactions would have everyone shipping that as the popular ship for those characters just like the CidClives.

He has no personality, he's in 0.2 scenes where he takes care of Dion and cries when Dion leaves him. If he was female y'all would be bitching from day 1 and rollercoastering down the "poor writing->thats why i just can't ship it" pipeline, but because he's male you come up with endless hcs for him and call it the best ship evar.

You guys better not be the same crowd saying Jill doesn't have personality or agency and "doesn't do anything".

[handsomewickerman]

Some thoughts on Eddie Diaz vs. Fanon Gay Eddie

I wanna preface this by saying that i'm latino, gay, raised catholic, heard the phrase "you gotta be the man of the house" my whole life. So on paper the idea of "repressed gay Eddie Diaz" should be appealing to me, right? well not exactly and here's why:

when I started watching the show I was aware of buddie, but I never engaged with the fandom. It wasn't until Buck came out that I started interacting with it.

when you join any space online the algorithm feeds you the most popular stuff, in this case, all my 911 recommendations were buddie, at the time I saw the vision, after all I love queer rep! but after the date episode and all throughout the hiatus I realized something very quickly:

most buddies don't actually care about queer rep, they just wanted their ship to go canon.

this realization came after weeks of seeing them spew bi/homophobic rhetoric and claiming it didn't matter as long as they got buddie, some examples:

- saying they wanted Buck to play into the bisexual cheating stereotype.

- calling Tommy a groomer, creep and predator.

- being unable to fathom the idea that Tommy was just hanging out with Eddie as friends

- claiming Eddie being a pos shit to women was ok "as long as he's gay".

- the insistence that Eddie should only be read as gay (not even bi).

- the idea that Buck and Eddie should only be "gay for each other" and no one else.

(these talking points still get repeated and if anything they have gotten more hateful the more time has passed).

Buddies insisted that they could've made buddie canon every ep, but that's simply not true, even leaving the GA and network aside, if you watch the show without shipping goggles you'll realize how much work they'll need to write that arc for Eddie as well, and if you care about queer rep you would want him to have his arc too, right?

they also claimed that his religious guilt is "clearly tied to queerness" when in reality Eddie is one of the most stagnant characters in the show as his religious guilt is tied to his inability to secure a "traditional family unit" and be the "man of the house" he was told to be. He drove Shannon away (something he admitted), then lost her forever and hasn't been able to move on for 6 seasons. It all circles back to that guilt about Shannon, the expectations put on him and his feelings of failing her, his parents, his kid and himself. Could there be an space for queerness too? Sure, but that's not what the show has portrayed at all so far.

the heavy mischaracterization of Eddie, the choice to strip him away from all his flaws or excuse them, the character assassination and malicious reading of Tommy while engaging in homophobia, their inability to allow Buck to be his own character with his queerness having nothing to do with Eddie and the desire to have him play into negative stereotypes told me everything I needed to know about where these people who want to gaslight you into thinking that "gay Eddie and buddie is the only correct answer" actually stand when it comes to queer rep.

it is not inherently wrong to find relatability in Eddie as a queer person and read him as such, but it is incredibly dishonest to claim that's the only valid way to read him.

in the end, I should find Eddie more relatable as a character and truth be told? I do, but I find Ryan's desire to tell a story about men being vulnerable, emotionally open and close without having to question their sexuality or masculinity far more realistic and honest for the character and Ryan himself.

[00belle00lovely00]

can you do bubba x kickin headcanons plz I’m starving content them 🙏🙏 they’re the oh sh*t they’re my dumbass x the dumbass if is alright :)

OMG RIGHT? I LOVE THAT KIND OF SHIP DYNAMIC TOO!!!

As always, you ask, I SHALL DELIVER!

💙📘⭐💛💙📘⭐💛💙📘⭐💛💙📘⭐💛💙📘⭐💛💙📘

Literally, the nerd x dumbass cool guy wanna-be.

... GOD... OH GOD NO- I CAN'T THINK OF A SHIP NAME FOR THEM- NO... NO- PLEASE-... YOU GUYS PLEASE YOU GOTTA SALVAGE THIS. FOR THE SAKE OF THE HEADCANONS- WHAT'S THEIR SHIP NAME????

Of course, while Bubba works as the brains of the group and the man of reason, Kickin does the complete opposite. This guy gets in trouble ALL the time, constant dangerous and reckless situations, and most of the time it's either for a dare, to prove a point, or to "salvage his reputation" of a cool guy facade. Of course, due to that they didn't at first get along that well. They didn't fight, not at all as a matter of fact, but Kickin always disliked Bubba's scolding and lessons of things he did and often irritated him how he took him as an example to the group not to do something stupid.

That of course, caused Kickin to always stomp his way into his house to slam the door behind him, Bubba being able to recognise Kickin's frustration. Soon enough, and even to Kickin's dislike, Bubba attempts to have a talk with him about his behaviour and attempts to brighten his day by recommending some safe yet fun activities he could do. Even though it didn't entirely satisfy him, it was pretty much enough for him not to get too upset at Bubba. So then, you could imagine that it was becoming clear that, little by little, began to get along. Attached even.

I love to always headcanon Kickin being pathetic at flirting, which always amused Bubba and earned him some chuckles from him each time. Sure, he wasn't entirely 'charmed' as Kickin would say, but it was charming enough to see Kickin grin at thinking he had succeded.

Oftentimes, Kickin would actually attempt to defend Bubba when people disagreed with him or didn't pay attention to what Bubba was saying (ironic enough since out of all people, Kickin was the one who paid LESS attention).

Wouldn't it be so cool to see them matching in bracelets?

If they ever eventually got to date, Kickin would be proud asf of it. He be walking around the neighbourhood, announcing it wherever he goes. Surprisingly, Bubba never stops him from doing so.

They're so gay for each other but they don't wanna downright admit it.

Kickin would one time jump down a rooftop and break a knee, just because he heard from Bobby that she would let Bubba burrow a nurse outfit if Kickin ever got a terrible injury. And oh man, Bubba was NOT happy at all

Their date? Oh, it would be a chaotic MESS of a mixture of sports and reading. It would be fun to see Kickin trying to surf into the beach while Bubba just lays on the sand, making sure that Kickin wouldn't trip and down himself... which... has happened. Twice.

I love to headcanonize Kickin trying to impress every single partner he has. Bubba isn't an exception.

They would jokingly call each other "nerd" and "reckless", lovingly.

They um... are not that good at SHOWING affection, but, well-... at least they try? Veyr awkwardly try.

Bobby would be FASCINATED by this. ABSOLUTELY ENCHANTED. SHE'D BE WRITING HEADCANONS AND FANFICTIONS HERSELF AS WELL AS THIS ONE.

Nor would Hoppy, oh no, she not bothering Kickin about it is an UNDERSTATEMENT.

While Bubba wants to eventually be a scientist, or more or so, a doctor, Kickin wants to be a great actor in Hollywood. A superstar. Yet, of course, they care too much about each other to never let that separate them.

[iniziare]

ignoring aventurine's blatant gay coding is really something

Other things have had me a little salty this morning, so in case that influences my perception of how you intended this, my sincere apologies. Either way, forgive me for being serious for a moment, but I want to use this as a PSA to make a point going forward on this blog.

I have nothing against opposing views, and I have nothing against people disagreeing with me, but what I have something against on principle, are potentially snarky messages like this one that seem to have only one aim, which is to try and taint my character by making insinuations that are wholly unfounded (that you think me to be anti-LGBT?) and based on something that you genuinely cannot draw any such thing from. Now whether Aventurine is 'gay-coded' as you so put it, or a bisexual man (on which note: it's real saddening to see that in 2024, in-house fighting against bisexuality's mere existence still reigns supreme, good job, you're really making admirable strides) doesn't matter for what I'm going to touch on. Although out of respect for the character himself and the person who wrote him, I can't move on without noting that you may want to reread some character stories, some dialogues (particularly things said by the Harmony to him, for instance), to see whether that seals your faith in your claim, or diminishes it. Either way, I want to remind you: being bisexual doesn't reduce the significance of being drawn to the same sex.

Alright, continuing what I was saying: messages like these don't accomplish anything, outside of making you feel like you're on a pedestal; is it cold up there? I don't envy you. In all seriousness however, in all my years on any of my blogs, I have always aimed to be canon-strict with my portrayals, with which I set myself up for something that I deem imperative for myself in RP: to be criticized by the masses. I have always tried to engage with my follower base, I have always encouraged them to come to me if I'm wrong on something, I value people trying to poke holes in my logic. And if you succeed in proving that I overlooked something, I will happily admit it, and stand corrected. In that, I aim to say that I thoroughly enjoy debate and discussion (based in rationale, and not feelings), which I think are fundamental to our society even outside of Tumblr. If someone disagrees with me, my notes are open, if you want to question something that I think or have posted, my askbox (as you've learned and have made use of) is open. But all I ask is that you open a line of healthy debate with me, and not send something that is entirely baseless if you don't even substantiate your claim in your same message. But also, what I don't understand is that my post doesn't even directly diminish the popular Aventurine/Ratio ship in the fandom, it instead simply expresses frustration that not more people see the depth of the Aventurine/Topaz dynamic, and recognize it as a good ship as well, because there is a lot within the game that aims at a definite potential there. Granted, yes, that comes with having to acknowledge that Aventurine may just be a bisexual man who is also into women, but if that's something that doesn't sit quite right with you, then maybe the issue that you're pointing at me, should be returned to you, the one who initially pointed the accusatory finger here.

Again, if you want to have a conversation about this and tell me why you think that I'm wrong by substantiating your own claim, you're very welcome to, and I'd be happy to engage with you. But until then, this is all that I have for you. And before I might get a 'why do I need to substantiate my thing, Sae', it's nothing against you personally, and instead it's the simple 101 of debate. You disagree with a point that I make? Then it is up to you to tell me why you disagree, so that I can give you a fruitful counter that you can then do something with.

Regardless of the intention of your message, anon, I wish you a good day, and I hope that it's raining less over there, wherever you may be, than it is over here. I'm not motivated to go get my groceries!

[cloud-based-and-rainpilled]

Nerdy “Aziraphale and Crowley are super in love” Analysis time! (Filmmaking and acting edition)

(Very late but I promise it’s worth it)

Imo the moment Aziraphale realizes he’s in love with Crowley is Ep 3 when the Apocalypse is looming and Crowley flippantly says, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you”

Aziraphale gives the look

And it all changes

From an acting perspective, Crowley takes a confident and almost defiant stance. Despite walking away, his arms are wide open. He constantly shrouds himself in being aloof and bad, so this exaggerated gesture is the way he shows his true feelings. This is the world I can provide you. Please take it.

From a filmmaking perspective, this is a wide shot, showing Crowley and Aziraphale's physical and emotional distance. Crowley is in focus, pointing out to the right. In Western filmmaking, characters moving left to right indicate progress

This doesn't apply to countries where they write right to left or up and down. Anime flows up and down for this reason, but that's another story

Crowley has his back to the camera because his reaction doesn't matter here. He knows what he wants; his needs are clear to himself and the audience

Aziraphale's reaction here is massive. As a new viewer (still 3 eps to go,) I first interpreted their relationship as an unusual companionship. The montage at the beginning of this episode shows their progress from having a mutual agreement to an alliance to a friendship

But this look

That’s the change

The camera pushes in as Aziraphale realizes what Crowley is implying, and he's overwhelmed to the point of burgeoning tears. It's not quite a Hitchcock/Jaws zoom, but it similarly presses the subject closer and tighter into the camera claustrophobically.

Subconsciously, as the audience, we now feel his feelings pressed into him

Part of Aziraphale's reaction is his high moral standard of being an angel. While here he calls Crowley a demon, he has previously insisted, because he is a fallen angel, there is hope for goodness still.

He sees his future as a possibility in Crowley, which would destroy his known world. His moral code however is much more malleable than he would like to think, but to admit that would be failure of doing his duty as an angel

But just this acting choice, his quivering palpable fear, this reaction is much more than, “I don’t want to kill a child/not be an angel.” If he agrees to go with Crowley, the ‘side’ he’s picking isn’t good or evil, it’s love

As the characters are asexual/nonbinary (I think?,) I don’t think canonically the fact that it’s a homosexual relationship is necessarily the issue. However, the metaphor of choosing to walk away from everything you know and believe and the rigid standards of goodness, and instead choosing to be with someone who will inevitably lead you to be cast out from your world, is (unfortunately) a universal gay experience, especially considering the source material is from the late 1980’s

Crowley’s reaction to this rejection is straight up anger played off as a totally reasonable, “C’mon man, we’re best buds,” but his eyes are covered by glasses. Eyes are the windows of the soul and he certainly doesn’t want to break right now in the face of rejection. His eyes are blocked in a very emotional tight shot of him which mirrors Aziraphale's.

Now his reaction matters and we don't really get to see it

I don't know where this goes from here (well uhhhhh I did see The Spoilers ™ but I ain't gonna talk about that lol,) but this just feels like a massive turning point, and the acting and filmmaking really enhance it. From an outsider's perspective, I didn't 'get' this ship at all, but now in context, it completely makes sense. This scene is utterly devastating

This has probably been talked about to death for 4+ years now lol, but just wanted to point out some acting/filmmaking choices that really brought the oh shit moment to light <3

[suzukiblu]

disappointed missing fearless

Cut for weird alien biology kinky porn but mostly just for length. Also, I don't know if there's an actual established ship name for Slobo/Kon but this is technically from a YJ polyam fic either way, so idk if it actually matters right now, hah.

Pretty sure I posted at least some of this excerpt before, but this SHOULD be the extended edition.

"The Boy Wonder just had to be our token straight," Kon grumbles, folding his arms. Which is whatever, fine, preferences are preferences and the dude's still his friend and he would still very literally die either for him or on his say-so, but is the idea of letting Kon go down on him every now and then and maybe also making out a little somewhere in there really that unappealing? Like, seriously? 

Bats are the freaking worst. 

"What's it matter?" Slobo asks, wrinkling his nose at him. 

"I mean, it doesn't matter-matter," Kon says with an exasperated sigh. "But also I just want to finally score some dick for once, man, and I still can't actually keep up with Bart's and Suzie only has one when she's in the right mood and Rob's isn't even into me, and I don't wanna go knock over a civilian for it, that's just–" 

"And that'd be all the options for dick currently available to your picky ass, yeah," Slobo cuts in dryly, leaning in towards him with a pointed look. Kon turns red. 

"Actually I kinda figured you were straight too," he says, glancing sidelong at the guy. "And very solidly monogamous, given all the time that you and Anita spend ignoring the rest of us in favor of rooms with doors that lock." 

"We ain't monogamous, she just don't like gettin' interrupted when she's in the mood. Though yeah, you're right about the straight thing," Slobo agrees with a dismissive shrug. "But also, look, I'm Czarnian. Which literally none of you bastiches are. And gonna be frank here, you and Anita got a lot more biological similarities to each other than Anita and a Czarnian chick would, so at this point I don't really give a shit what kind of hole I'm fraggin' so long as whoever it belongs to's got somethin' interestin' to say about the process." 

"Huh," Kon says, frowning to himself. "That literally never occurred to me as a thing that might be a thing, actually." 

"I mean, what, are you attracted to Branx and Bolovax Vikians and Karnans and Martians?" Slobo snorts dubiously. "Or frell, even Czarnians?" 

"Well, just the ones I like, but yeah," Kon says, a little puzzled by the question. They're all sentient species with free will and also he would absolutely let that one very specific Green Lantern just fucking step on him whenever the guy felt like it, so yeah, why wouldn't he be attracted to them? And . . . Kilowog, he's pretty sure said Green Lantern's name is? Kilowog's built like what a brick house wishes it could grow up and be. So Kon would definitely let him step on him. "Is that like . . . weird or something?" 

"Galactically speakin', yeah," Slobo says wryly. "Though I guess you're already a hybrid so I probably shoulda expected you to be less discriminatin' than the rest of the universe tends to." 

"So what, are you calling me a slut?" Kon snorts. "Like on a genetic level?" 

"Depends how many people you've screwed, galactically speakin'," Slobo says. 

"Not enough," Kon replies frankly. 

"Then yeah, pretty sure you're a slut," Slobo says with another shrug. "Especially if you miss dick bad enough to get in a snit on the couch over it." 

". . . I mean, okay, I haven't actually socialized with another dude's dick before," Kon admits grudgingly, making a face. "Unless watching gay porn counts, and to be honest I usually get bored if there's only one style of genitals onscreen so I don't do much of that. Just I just finally figured out that I fucking want dick and my options for getting it are frustratingly limited right now." 

"Then wanna actually socialize with mine?" Slobo suggests, which is an approach that Kon appreciates the straightforwardness of. "Seein' as it don't belong to a picky control freak or a hyperactive speedster or someone with a real fraggin' inconvenient tendency to turn intangible when they come." 

"Suzie does that?" Kon asks. 

"Accordin' to Anita," Slobo replies with a shrug. "And since I trust her with my literal fraggin' life at this point, I'm assumin' this ain't the thing she's picked to lie to me over." 

"Huh," Kon says. "Weird, but noted for future reference. And yeah, fuck it, let's socialize. Room with a lock, or . . . ?" 

"Naw, give Wonder Girl the chance to walk in on us, she wants to see your indestructible ass get wrecked real bad," Slobo says with a smirk, then sticks with that straightforward approach that Kon so rightly appreciates and immediately yanks his belt open and whips his dick out right there on the couch. It is not remotely proportionate to his build, and Kon definitely means that as a compliment. 

"Oh, is that the plan here?" Kon says, as someone whose mouth just went dry and who would also admittedly like to see his indestructible ass get wrecked for once. Like, that's a thing he'd like to get to do before he dies, that's all. 

"Damn right it is," Slobo says, smirking wider at him and giving his cock a meaningful squeeze. Kon glances down at it speculatively, wondering exactly how Czarnians fuck. Said cock is currently actively rising to the occasion, and also getting increasingly disproportionate to Slobo's build. 

Like. Very increasingly. 

Damn. 

"What'dya think? Wanna come on it, bastich?" Slobo asks with a leering grin and a very unsubtle tug. Kon flicks his eyes back to his face and just eyes him. 

. . . then he eyes his dick. 

It's actually, like, a very appealing dick. It might be a little smaller than Kon's own is, he thinks, but it's definitely comparable and still plenty damn big either way, all long and thick and heavy-looking, and it's got, like . . . ridges. Bumps. Textures. Like, Bad Dragon wishes it could design such a dick. 

. . . Jesus, actually, is that a knot at the base? And–

Oh. Okay. 

"Is your dick prehensile," Kon asks, officially just staring at it. 

It waves at him. 

"Is it?" Slobo asks with a smirk. 

"Fuck," Kon says as a downright vicious stab of arousal goes through his gut, and then he very suddenly feels very weird. Slobo cocks his head, looking surprised. 

Kon looks down at himself, because again, he feels weird. "Himself" is not there to be looked at. 

Well, like, it is. Just not in very . . . "him"-type fashion. 

"Huh," Kon says to the very nice pair of tits currently sitting all cute and perky under his S-shield. He blinks in absolute bemusement, and Slobo's expression lights up hungrily. 

"Shit, you really do like me, huh," he says, letting go of himself and reaching out to put his hands around Kon's suddenly very, very narrow waist. Like . . . way too far around, actually. That's . . . an experience. Wow. "Never had Kryptonian pussy before." 

Yeah, well, you're not the only one, Kon thinks only slightly hysterically.

"You can't get knocked up 'til you go through a full cycle, right, so can I stick it in raw?" Slobo asks like this is all just perfectly normal, which admittedly for all Kon knows about Slobo's life experience and alien biology in general it could in fact be. He thinks of several thousand reasons to say no, but given both who he is as a person and also how bad he really, really wants to finally score some dick for once . . .

"Yeah," he says, then half-reflexively flicks his eyes back down to Slobo's cock and licks his lips. Slobo grins. 

"Nice," he says. 

Anyway, Kon's suit lasts about five seconds after that. Which–it doesn't fit him quite right at the moment anyway, so it's whatever. It's very weird to see tits and ass and a statistically improbable amount of curves when he looks down at himself, but it's weirder feeling Slobo's hands and mouth roaming greedily all over said statistical improbabilities as the other pushes him down against the cushions. The prick hasn't even kissed him, which: rude much? 

Not that Kon's really complaining, because if he wanted "polite" that bad he wouldn't be socializing with Slobo at all, much less his dick, and Slobo is currently making his way down his body and clearly on a mission to kiss him somewhere. 

So yeah, the "weird" feelings are very rapidly losing out to the "holy shit, do that again" feelings. 

"Holy shit, do that again," Kon says. Slobo grins sharply up at him and then Kon meets his clit and his clit meets Slobo's very eager tongue and anyway Kon now officially and intimately understands why people who've got one bitch so damn much when a partner ignores it. Like wow, does he ever. "Ohhhhh my god. Oh my god oh my god oh my god–!" 

So that's pretty distracting, for at least a couple minutes there. 

Not that Kon's brain is in any condition to be noticing the passage of time right now. 

"Frag, you're already dripping. Wanna get off on my tongue a few times or just get straight to the main attraction?" Slobo asks as he hooks his hands around Kon's currently statistically improbable and also badly shaking thighs and licks his own very slick and shiny lips. Kon remembers the sight of the guy's big fat disproportionate dick very, very vividly, then immediately spreads his thighs as far as he can without the back of the couch interfering. 

Possibly he damages said back of the couch just a little bit in the process. 

Like, just barely. 

"Main attraction," he says firmly. Slobo grins at him again. 

"Damn, rolling out the red carpet here, ain't we," he says. "Gonna make a guy feel downright appreciated like this." 

"Put your dick in me right the fuck now or I will put you through the fucking wall, asshole," Kon threatens, and of course it's Slobo, so he just grins all the wider. 

"Fraggin' flirt," he says with obvious approval. 

Then he puts his dick in him. 

Kon's vision very literally whites out at the way Slobo feels sliding into him so big and hard and big and deep and big and good and he jerks up instinctively underneath him and makes some really, really undignified noises as his body seizes up. The couch might suffer a little more damage. Kon doesn't give the slightest bit of a fuck. 

"Holy shit, did you just fraggin' come?" Slobo asks in obvious delight. 

"Shut the fuck up," Kon barely gets out past the aftershocks making his whole damn body twitch and tremble under Slobo's, and Slobo laughs and sort of . . . rolls his hips, kind of, and Kon moans. 

"Shit, you're tight," Slobo says, sounding approving again, and this time in a way that makes Kon shudder even harder than he already is. "And soaked. Feels like I just stuck it in somebody's sloppy seconds. What do you think, bastich, want the whole thing in your snatch? Think you can take it?" 

"Yes," Kon chokes desperately, and Slobo does the only gentlemanly thing that Kon has ever seen him do, which is immediately just thrust into him balls deep. 

That is definitely a knot, yeah, Kon notes. 

And definitely Slobo's dick is prehensile. 

The literal only reason that Kon doesn't fucking scream is because they're in a building full of active superheroes and god fucking forbid somebody come and "save" him right now. Like, Cassie can watch if she really is into that, but if anybody in any way tries to fucking interrupt he is gonna straight up just become a supervillain. 

Unless it's a supervillain interrupting, he guesses, in which case he's just gonna take a page out of Wonder Woman's book and give them the Maxwell Lord special. 

Either way, he emphasizes deeply with Anita and her locked doors. 

Real deeply.

[localnerd]

It strikes me that literally no one on this site knows about any of my head cannons and any ships I have about THSC, even though I mostly post about THSC, so here's me yapping about them.

Uhh there is a lot of text and reading to do here, if you don't feel like that, don't click "read more"

So, I'll start with headcannons first. Specifically:

Family Relationships:

-Henry is adopted and his adoptive parents are 2 gay dads (both of which, are dead).

-Ellie has 2 brothers and is a middle child. One of her brothers are dead, and she doesn't know where the other one is right now.

-Galeforce is NOT infact Charles' dad, but Charles does see him as a father figure.

-Reginald was born into the clan.

-RHM was put up for adoption as soon as he was born, but no one ever adopted him.

-Sven is Earrings' younger brother.

-Burt and his older brother Grew up with their Aunt because their dad and mom both died around the time he was born.

-Carol is Rupert's younger sister.

-Dave is fatherless.

-Grigori is Dmitri's younger half brother. Dmitri's parents divorced and Dmitri lived with his dad and stepmom.

-Henry, Reginald, RHM, and Dave are all only children.

Next up:

Character Sexualitys And Genders:

-Henry is Pan and a Demi boy (He/They)

-Ellie is a Straight Ally

-Charles is also a Straight Ally

-Galeforce is Straight. He is an ally, but he has no fucking clue what it is.

-Rupert is Asexual, and is CisHet.

-Reginald is Gay. He did think he was Non-Binary a few years ago, but he is Cis.

-RHM is Bisexual with a preference towards men. Also cis.

-Sven is Pan and is Cis

-Burt is AroAce and is also cis.

-Earrings is Hetero, but is gender fluid.

-Carol is Bisexual, but doesn't have a preference.

-Dave is questioning his sexuality and gender, but he does think he is Gay.

-Dmitri is CisHet and homophobic. (Old fucker)

-Grigori is also CisHet, but he really doesn't care what you are. He won't support you per say, but he will respect you.

Other Headcannons:

-Henry cannot control timelines, and is unaware that there may be other versions of himself. He just thinks he is very lucky in just about every timeline and universe he is in.

-Galeforce has considered firing Charles for reckless endangerment for ramming his helicopter everywhere.

-Reginald is a Vocaloid fan, no matter how hard he tries to deny it.

-Reginald has heterochromia.

-Reginald was born on 2/29 (or a leep year).

-No one knows RHM's name because he doesn't fucking have one and he is too embarrassed to admit it.

-RHM can freely change the color of his cybernetics, but he doesn't because people who pay too much attention to detail would freak out and think he was rewired.

-Sven is a bit of a People Pleaser.

-Burt does need glasses and does have a pair of them, but he doesn't like wearing them (even if it means he can't fucking see).

-Terrance wasn't "Evil" per say, just an awful leader who didn't really know what to do 9 times out of 10.

And now we move into ships!

Like I said in my intro post, I don't really like posting about ships that often. I say it's because I don't have many, but in all honesty, it's because I'm a bit uncomfortable with drawing those kinds of things, and because i'd feel weird if I tried posting about them. I am a multishiper, and I am a rare pair fan so most, if not all of my ships are going to be more like god awful hot takes.

Ships:

-CopperRight (Reginald X RHM)

-CopperMin (Reginald X Henry)

-Reginald X RHM X Henry (No clue what the ship name is)

-RoseVin/CalRose (Ellie X Charles)

-SvenMin/StickSon (Sven X Henry)

-PanSon (Sven X Dave)

Uhhhh, I think that's about it. If I remember anything later on, I'll add it in.

If you read through all of this, you are super cool! Here's a gold star!

[bucksdaffy]

https://www.tumblr.com/bucksdaffy/750482450750308352/i-mean-i-think-its-fair-to-ask-what-show-yall?source=share

Okay, let's talk about development. Buddie shippers love to throw shade at Tommy. So, quick question: it's been 5 years now, where is Eddie's character development? Since Season 3, he has been suffering because of his wife and has run away from a new relationship. He's in the same place as in Season 7. The truth is, Buddie shippers don't care about Eddie's character. They see Eddie as an extension of Buck. Buck manages to get some self-improvement. We can see his changes from Season 1 to now. Eddie? They don’t care; they're too worried about karaoke scenes and their only concern is to make Buddie canon

Sorry, that annon got me so nervous

truth be told, the show favours buck, and eddie is often neglected in terms of development. i must admit i actually saw some eddie-leaning bobs express frustration about this early on when it was revealed that a gay eddie arc was under consideration before tim and co ultimately decided on a bi buck storyline. but their voices were pretty drowned out by the constant yapping of how the show could make buddie canon, and now it's hard to see anything else.

i think you're right in saying bobs don't care about eddie as a character. but i'd even go so far as to say they don't care about buck either. superficially? sure because they both are part of the ship they love. but in reality? i wouldn't be so sure about that.

because the thing is they don't seem to think about buck and eddie as separate individuals. they always make one's storyline about the other. there is no buck without eddie and no eddie without buck in their eyes.

when you love a character, i think it's only natural that you want them to be happy. but when you love a ship more, your brain is wired to believe that the only way for them to be happy is if said ship ends up together. i don't want to condemn anyone for their feelings and choices because it's everyone's right to enjoy what they want to enjoy. you can't force anyone to change their view on that. i just wish they admitted they are not actually buck defenders or eddie defenders – they are just full-on buddie shippers, and that's it. don't pretend you care about them as individuals because it's obvious it's not true.

bobs don't care that buck is now in a happy relationship with a man who treats him as his equal, doesn't glorify him, understands what it means to be a firefighter, supports him, and makes an effort to be there for him when he needs him. they don't care that he is good for buck right now. they want tommy gone because he stands in the way of buddie canon (does he really? not the fact that eddie is canonically still very much heterosexual?), and because the audience seems to enjoy him much more than they anticipated. and they don't even care about an amicable break-up anymore – i saw some bobs say they want tommy dead. now you can't tell me you care about buck if you wish for his love interest to die. it's fine if you don't like tommy and if you personally think buck would be happier with someone else. let's agree to disagree and move on. but when you wish to seriously traumatize (one of) your favourite(s) character(s) in order for your ship to become canon? that just shows where your priorities lie, and i can guarantee that most people will disagree with you.

when it comes to eddie, he doesn't have the happiest storyline right now, and hasn't for a while. but if/when in s8 or some later season (provided they get renewed for more) he gets the development he deserves, and finally finds someone who he truly likes (and that someone isn't buck) and treats right, or perhaps decides that being single is fine and lets go of the pressure to be in a romantic relationship, do you think they'll be happy for him? i highly doubt so. they'll still push for buddie canon, not taking into account the individual characters of the story and their needs. what matters is that they get what they want, and everything and everyone else can go to hell.

if that is your stance, i personally think you should just quit watching the show and move to ao3 full-time for your and everyone else's own good. tim and co will not make buddie canon just because you want them to. it has to make sense for both buck and eddie individually first. and right now that is not the case for either of them.

[samantha-and-her-chaotic-desires]

The hazbin hatedom is getting out of hand for me it's really cringe. Your thoughts

I have mixed opinions on this. So beforehand, I am going to say that this is a longer post from me, and I appreciate the anonymous message! <3 I will be talking about this specific question, as well as my interpretation, thoughts, and overall feelings on this matter. Please feel free to reblog, like, and comment your opinions and keep it civil. I want to have a friendly discussion, no matter how brash I seem: this is brutal honesty coming from my heart.

For those who have ZERO clue: Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss are dark "comedy" shows for an adult audience, created by Vivienne "Vivziepop" Medrano, originally airing on YouTube. Helluva Boss is currently in its second season, while we have yet to find out anything else on Hazbin Hotel, as it is now a part of A24 and BentoBox. They center on the same setting, Hell, but have two different plot lines.

Hazbin Hotel is redemption focused, led by Princess Charlie Morningstar, the daughter of Lucifer. She wants to help the sinners in Hell become good and go up to heaven to avoid the yearly Exterminartion, aka a Purge. Helluva Boss, however, is about a murdering business called I.M.P., with Blitz, Millie, Moxxie, and Loona, going up to Earth with a grimoire that is provided by Stolas of the Ars Goetia, a prince. So here we go, into the Depths and reasoning of this post: the Hatedom. So lo and behold, my answer below.

On one hand, yes. The Hazbin Hatedom is a bit over the top. Yes, people are assholes. However, the Vivziepop stans who don't want to admit their precious senpai Vivziepop has done some pretty fucked up shit in the past. The hate can be unnecessary, but you know what else can be unnecessary? The toxic stans. I follow #vivziepop for certain analysis portrayals and criticism, or just general news. Sometimes people are tiresome. This is no exception.

I am falling out of the fandom because it can be toxic. I enjoy most of the characters, but other than that? Helluva Boss's current writing is NOT good. At all. The latest episode irked me to no end. I'm unimpressed with Seeing Stars. I am not very happy that they are forcing Stolitz down our throats as an "uwu pwease wove us" type of bullshit ship. I would much rather prefer Blitz and Stolas to be friends. I wished Stolas had his pilot personality and not the "uwu im a gay, tragic prince with a shitty wife, feel bad for me" bird we know in the series.

Moxxie in the latest episode is bitchy. He got on my nerves and was pissed at Millie being happy. This girl deserves more screentime (and I'm glad she got some of it) but seriously...Millie is always there for Moxxie, and Moxxie needs to reciprocate.

They made Stella seem stupid, when in reality, and if written properly, she can be a cunning and calculating villain with her brother. We've yet to see how Octavia and Stella interact, but I'm unsure.

I have definitely tried to keep my mouth shut as much as I could on this matter, because when I finally openly admit how I feel, it's not a pretty thing, especially with something that I'm so passionate about. Animation takes time, writing takes time, scripting, acting, everything takes so much time, and this is wasted potential. We can have so much better than just a fan-ficcy type rom-com, dark humor, sexual humor schtick. It's getting annoying, and I fear the worst when it comes to Hazbin Hotel.

Criticism is welcome here! Let me know what I left out. I'm willing to hear other opinions, so long as they're nice. If anons start flooding my inbox and getting mad, anons are off. Anon is a privilege, not a right.

[akimojo]

man it bothers me so much when people feel the need to reduce our perception of vanille and fang’s relationship as romantic to “just a headcanon” when there’s so much more to it than that 

obviously we’re all aware that they’ve never been confirmed as a canon couple, and NO we are NOT trying to devalue dion and terence’s relationship just because we don’t personally see them as the FIRST gay rep in final fantasy (every bit of representation matters ffs). when we talk about fanille being the “real” first gay couple we’re not trying to take away from the fact that ff FINALLY has confirmed queer rep, it’s just a half-joking way to point out that homoromantic SUBTEXT has been around in the franchise for longer than people think, and we believe fang and vanille are the most prominent example of that 

the reason why we see them as having a romantic relationship is because their actions can easily be interpreted as such solely from what we’ve seen in canon, without the need for headcanons or made-up scenarios to piece it together. square could’ve literally made them kiss at any moment in the games out of nowhere and we’d just be like “yeah, that seems about right” because the build-up is there

it’s not about whether the writers actually intended for them to be a couple. frankly, the fact that fang was originally going to be a man, but was changed into a woman just so their relationship wouldn’t be mistaken as romantic, says volumes about how difficult it must’ve been to try and write their bond WITHOUT romantic connotations. they had no problem making noel and yeul share a more sibling-like bond (you could see them as having romantic subtext as well, but nowhere near to the same extent, and with much less support from their canon interactions), and yet they struggled so much with fang and vanille that they had to take (heteronormative) measures in an attempt to stick to their original intentions? would a good writer not accept that that’s the natural direction of the relationship dynamic they themselves came up with? 

part of our reasons for thinking of fang and vanille as canon lesbians, even without confirmation from the creators, is essentially a big ol “fuck you” to heteronormativity.... but also, there’s nothing sisterly to us about clutching your homegirl’s hands, pulling them to her chest as you hug her from behind, and whispering in her ear about how not even death can take her from you, but i digress

using square enix’s description of them as having a sister-like bond to prove they’re not a couple rings hollow to a lot of us because homophobia and heteronormativity has muddled any potential queer rep in games for decades, even in this case where the writers themselves have essentially admitted that it was next to impossible for them to write their relationship without romantic undertones. whether that says more about their ability to write a platonic relationship than it does about fang and vanille is up to you, of course

it’s also worth pointing out some hypocrisy among the ff fanbase. take tifa and cloud, and aerith and cloud, for example. neither ship has been confirmed as canon in any of the games, but (despite the ship wars lmao) the vast majority of the fandom can agree that both of these relationships were written with romantic undertones, whether intentionally or not, and that viewing them as “canon” is perfectly valid because of that. and yet when we view fang and vanille as a couple it’s outrageous unless we specifically call it a headcanon and denounce any and all possibilities of it holding any weight in canon. i don’t want to make any accusations as for why, but it’s worth noting 

i also just want to clarify that the main theme of the final fantasy xiii trilogy IS family, and it makes perfect sense to see fang and vanille as sisters if you choose to interpret their relationship via more traditional family values, but it also includes found family (a group of people that are as close as family, but don’t adhere to conventional family roles and values, and usually consists of outcasts of some kind), which is not inherently romantic, but is also not strictly platonic, and is a trope that is especially important and relatable to the LGBTQ+ community, so of course we’re going to interpret these things in a different light compared to how people outside of the community would

[not-goldy]

I had tweeted “Honestly, is it worth being a Tkker when you have to shit on some that both half’s of your ship love? Is it worth being a Tkker when you have to cut out a member just to manipulate yourself and your fellow cultist?” And the tweeted “Is it worth be a Tkker when you have to have a thousand narratives because reality shows you a different story? Being a Tkker sounds hard and not worth the energy” on twitter and my god when I say Taekookers stalk Jkkers, I mean they stalk us. I ain’t never had a Tkker interact with my tweets and I sometimes make tweets say Taekookers instead of Tkkers. Yet that tweet is the tweet that bothered them? I have made tweets directly calling them out and not a single interaction from a Tkker. Me telling the truth really hit a nerve. They only interacted with the second tweet but not the tweet saying how shit on Jm (whom Tae and Jk loves) is not worth it and etc. They are truly so self aware but just refuse to admit they are insane for their behavior and that Tae and Jk gets dragged all because of them.

Sorry you had to deal with that.

One time I called their ship dead they sent out dog whistles to their cult claiming I was issuing death threats to Tae and Jk. That didn't piss me off, I'm used to Tuktukkers I usd to be in the yoonmin spaces and group chats so I know what Tuktukkers is all about. It's the jokers who jumped on the hate wagon ganging up with the Tuktukkers to fight me that got on my nerves.

Becareful out there okay. If you are going to go after that cult be sure you doing it for the right reasons because it's what you want and you are standing up for your truth. And don't count on nobody to get your back. Because sometimes you would have to fight jokers too cos most of them are phony panders who do things for clout to perform for the circus and to make themselves seem likeable.

I always say I'm in this alone, it's me and Jikook against the world. No one else matters to me. And I sleep well at night knowing I fight a good fight.

Next time they come for you call me. I got your back.

Ready for a fight any day. For the gays and country.

Be safe.

[bambi-kinos]

i honestly wouldn’t care so much about omegaverse if people were just honest about how it’s a porn genre instead of insisting how it’s queer activism. especially on twitter there’s a weird group of people who think its the pinnacle of feminism to make men suffer through patriarchy but poorly thought out patriarchy and omegaverse sidelines women constantly (though i’ve seen fair share of female centric omegaverse but those don’t seem to push the activism view and feels more like it’s a porn genre, but the dog dick thing is still uncomfortable) another thing about the activism thing people push is about how omegaverse is actually really liberating for trans men or whatever as a blanket statement. don’t care if other trans men like omegaverse but i certainly don’t think omegaverse is reflective of the ftm experience. especially since all the characters are presumably cis in the stories even if they’re sometimes written with vaginas in universe it doesn’t matter! this is why the “if you dislike omegaverse you’re queer phobic” mindset drives me crazy. i’m sorry if this ask is really long i feel vindicated that other people find omegaverse a terrible genre ive disliked it for years, i can tolerate some stories but i can never take it seriously.

HAHA. Yeah this is a good summation of where I am at as well. The thing is omegaverse has always been up its own ass just a little, in Strange Aeons oral history of Dashcon someone at the con had made a presentation about omegaverse that said "omegaverse has six genders, here's what the six genders are" and it was about relating these fictional six genders to the IRL queer experience? Or at least that's how i interpreted it from the video. And the thing is this was almost at the very beginning of omegaverse as a trend and users were already trying to gentrify it into something that it isn't.

IMO omegaverse appeared at the same time that tumblr slacktivism was being heavily criticized. Don't know if anyone else remembers this but there was a viral tumblr post that had British protestors out with placards and signs and they were protesting in favor of gay marriage, and one of the signs said "let John and Sherlock get married." And the tumblr post absolutely exploded because people were mad (for good reason) that someone was bringing their fandom attitudes into IRL activism. And people were mad because gay marriage was something was desperately needed for legal protection and there was a lot of outrage that a fujoshi instead decided to make it about Johnlock, because that was the only way she could relate to gay marriage activism.

The problem though is that this viral post was like, a nuclear bomb in the tumblr consciousness. The website never recovered. That's where the idea of "minority representation" took off, because fujoshis were bullied and made to feel ashamed of liking gay ships and were accused of being "slacktivists" by writing fanfiction or whatever, even when we were not actually interested in doing activism. (I think some poor idiots tried to say that "writing slash fanfic means I'm fighting for gay rights" which got skewered.) So the idea of "representation" was dreamed up as a response to it, because no one likes being accused of being a ~fetishizer~. Saying "well actually me writing this fanfiction is good because I'm being Representational" was a way to politically justify your gay cocks rubbing together fetish. Tumblr was totally overrun with keyboard slacktivists screaming at and bullying each other over gay ships which made the "representation" and "fanfiction as queer activism" thing really take off. It was really just a way to avoid being bullied and in many ways it still is.

And while all of this was going on, omegaverse was born! So maybe in hindsight it did not stand a chance, no one wanted to admit that they just had a fetish for werewolves and noncon because that would get them bullied. Like I cannot stress enough that I was in Ground Zero for this shit so I remember when omegaverse fans were fielding accusations of "fapping to bestiality" and other horrible fucked and untrue things. So they were desperate, absolutely DESPERATE to put a respectable coat of paint on their porn so that Tumblr would stop bullying them for it. (There was a scat component to it as well but that wasn't as prominent as the bestiality themed noncon that came out of it. And I mean...both of those things are fine because it's fiction, so whatever, but it's not shocking that anything that was adjacent to those things would get pushback.)

In a way, fans did not have a choice except to pretend that the porn was actually Queer Empowerment and Feminist Empowerment and how it was Totally Liberating to read about men with dog dicks raping other men with anal fissures. They had to do it in order to protect themselves. This resulted in entire essays being written about how being anally impregnated by a guy with a dogdick who "ruts" like an animal is, like, suuuuuch a female experience you guiz!!!!!!! We gorls have all been there amirite!!!!! And if you didn't take that view and said "who is 'we' in this equation, you're not affiliated with me and I don't recognize these experiences" you received some online hate for Not Being With the Feminist Cause. In time that has metastasized and now there are omegaverse fans who, as you indicate, decided to start bullying other queer people people for not liking it.

(And you know, as I'm editing this, I'm realizing just how insanely transphobic that kind of stance was! Incredible erasure of trans people took place in those "why Omegaverse is the peak of feminism" essays.)

The lesbian omegaverse stuff is basically the purest form of it and hence it's the most tolerable. Yuri fiction gets so little attention anyway, yuri writers basically have carte blanche to do whatever they want. There's very little infighting in comparison to slash fandoms. Funnily enough when women are involved as characters no one wants to read about the Feminine Political Experience and no one cares enough to turn it into activism. It's only slash ships that get that projection and its 100% due to the "oh shit we need to pretend this is Representation so that we don't get bullied for having a fetish" deal. (This has since spread into most aspects of fandom and even IRL discourse! Do what you will with that information.)

Massive +1 to your note about how it affects queer people. I can't imagine what it's like to be a transman and be told "umm ackchually sweaty being impregnated with a dog cock is the HEIGHT of the transman experience and if you don't like it then you can get out." When I was weirded out by the book I cataloged that was an omegaverse romance, one of the rhetorical lines that got flung at me was "straight people aren't going to like you!!! they're always going to hate you!!!! you're never going to not be disgusting to them!!! you have to like it or else you're a bad queer person!!!" Because I had said that I found the material grotesque and I didn't like it being marketed as "LGBT fiction."

But that was never the point, the point was that I, a queer person, do not want this material anywhere near me. Like, why would I want to be associated with bestiality, even if it's fantasy bestiality? This ain't about the cishetties, this is about me, how I feel. I don't want to be told that it's inherently queer fiction and queer romance, because why would I want dog penises and the captivating aroma of poopy buttholes (sorry, "slick") to be associated with my queerness and my sexuality?

But those are the wages of omegaverse being born in the times that it was born in. It's most likely permanently baked into the structure, even when people are just wilding out with their Ids and going "oh teehee I forgot to take my suppressants and now my reproductive anal glands need to be expressed." You are still going to get the "my werewolf themed fanfiction is ACTIVISM, we are HERE we're QUEER and you need to GET OVER IT" even when you yourself are queer and have been persecuted for it in the past. Either jump on the dogdick carousal or you're queerphobic.

I should underline that I understand that this is quite literally a Not All Fans Situation and imo most users in fandom try not to get on each other's cases so much about our preferences. The problem is that omegaverse has been a vehicle for buckwild levels of cope, junk science, SJW themed bullying, and superiority complexes because there are a plurality of fans that are trying to gentrify weird porn. And that's the sticking point in all of this especially if you're someone who doesn't like it and want to stay away from it.

[sdaomine]

'til death do us part... or 'til i kill you first

Things take a sharp turn when Marius and Vyn discover each other's secret identities. Filing a divorce is on the table, but Vyn takes matters into his own hands—after all, he'd rather end the marriage here than in court.

A/N: Finally, FINALLY done with this fic that has long been rotting in my drafts! I've been wanting to write a Mr. and Mrs. Smith AU for my favorite gay ship but lacked the time to actually finish it (but here we are!). I wrote this in 2022 but only concluded it today, AMIDST my many, many university backlogs <3 Anyway, I know some stuff here won't make sense but this is a self-indulgent fic so... yeah.

wc: 13.8k words.

==

Six years in.

Six years of a wonderful marriage. Six years of black tea and chocolate drink during early mornings. Six years of intoxicating kisses, sweet and zealous; six years of what the youngest von Hagen called the best fuck he’d ever get in his lifetime.

You see, when you marry the love of your life and spend wild, beautiful years with them, you start to think you are building your relationship’s mighty foundation—that sooner or later, the two of you would be able to finally lower those invisible walls which had always separated you, because admit it or not, there is no marriage built without deep, dark secrets.

But six years in and Marius von Hagen finds himself holding tightly onto his gun—a pretty sleek silencer he so cherished, a gift from his brother—his back pressed hard against the wall just beside the stairs, waiting.

“Hah—shit. Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his chest heavy, almost suffocating. Marius pressed one hand against his heart, feeling its erratic pace and, at this very moment, he was all but trying to calm his rapid breathing.

But then there was a quiet creak on the wooden stairs.

Marius’ eyes screwed shut. Fuck fuck fuck—

Marius threw himself to the side, hiding further beneath the wall, just in time—just in time before a series of raining bullets holed through the wooden wall and the staircase banister, which was soon followed by another round of rapid firing. Marius shook his head as he waited for it to stop.

With one arm protecting his head, Marius leaned slightly against the safer side of the house. Deep down he cursed and cursed the sheer agony of having to prop himself like that against the wall, right after he had dived into the floor like it was some massive pool of water. “Goddamn,” he cursed quietly, and however could he not? His once neatly painted Victorian walls that probably cost some other person’s soul were now ripped into shreds, the wood falling off, their deadly splinters scattered around. There were holes all over, both small and wide, and Marius took a little peek.

There he is.

Vyn Richter, Stellis’ most esteemed psychiatrist: well-mannered, elegant, so fucking pretty. Marius was in awe even when the doctor, who still wore his pearl, white coat, carried two massive rifles in both of his hands. Fucking assault rifles. Just where the fuck did you keep those in our fucking house, Vyn?

A sly smirk curved the doctor’s lips. Vyn caught a glimpse of his husband peeking through the small holes and asked, a little too seductively for Marius’ taste, “Darling, you are still alive?”

Dammit!

Vyn held back a scowl when he heard nothing. Marius used to surprise Vyn whenever he came home from work, so it was not impossible the young CEO had already switched hiding places. And so Vyn, as silently as he could, made his way down the stairs—

“Still am, baby.”

Vyn dived down the stairs instinctively,  hissing out small, foreign curses as he landed—crashed—on the floor. He helped himself up with animalistic speed and grabbed his weapons, dashing towards the room opposite the wall where Marius continued to fire his silencer gun.

The doctor clutched his side and winced. Two minutes in and he already got himself a bruise.

“Stupid brat,” he muttered sharply as he reloaded his rifle. “Whatever crossed my mind? I should have killed him that fucking night.”

==

Two nights ago.

Vyn—in his white Mercedes—took a sharp turn round the bend of his English garden, leading out of the mansion gates. He was running, no, driving away from Marius. Why? Nothing much, really. Just that after six years of marriage Marius found out that aside from being a psychiatrist, his dear husband actually worked as an assassin. Learned that Vyn was a killer from another agency, which unfortunately for Marius was PAX’s worst rival with… well, dirty work.

But that wasn’t the worst part. Marius was an experienced killer, too, a secret even the best psychiatrist in the country must have somehow missed.

So… shit.

It was supposed to be a romantic dinner date. Vyn came home earlier than usual (he had to call off his assassination schedule that night) so he could cook his husband’s favorite dinner. The ever-so-loving Vyn Richter even lit candles on the table, did some last-minute flower arrangements, all so they’d have a good time (He even had half a mind to light candles and scatter rose petals across their bedroom, for a change). It had been a while since the last time he’d eaten a proper meal with Marius, anyway.

But there was something amiss, and Vyn was upset. Upset with the fact that he couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Or what could possibly go wrong.

Although he was quite certain it involved his husband. And involved he was indeed because Marius was all but suspicious that whole evening, asking this and that, inquiries Vyn himself often utilized whenever he questioned a target or a client. And he wouldn’t have been a renowned psychiatrist if his husband’s dubious actions went unnoticed. Marius. I did not know he would be this daft.

Until the bottle of wine Marius was holding suddenly slipped from his grasp, and Vyn—who was seated, his back turned away, his attention wholly fixated on anything other than Marius and his wine—caught the bottle swiftly with one hand.

It was then he realized he’d made a grave mistake, because if anything his husband’s grip was always firm, and not in this life would Marius von Hagen let a million-stellin wine slip from his hands.

Marius let it slip on purpose.

And now Vyn drove his Mercedes the way a lunatic would their car, ramming on the trash bins and fences and even some of the patches of roses from his beloved garden, all to escape from his husband. Because apparently, his dirty secret’s out, and Marius is out to get him (perhaps).

The car screeched as he took a sharp turn, finally out from their mansion. Was he a free man, now? Not exactly—Marius von Hagen suddenly appeared in the middle of the road, running. Vyn muttered under his breath. Goddammit. He took the shortcut. I forgot about the shortcut—

A bang sounded, and the next thing Vyn knew, there was a crack on the windshield. The car halted abruptly.

Vyn scrutinized the crack. A bullet.

“Did…” he mused—hissed, rather—as his eyes trailed to where Marius was knelt on the ground, slowly helping himself up. “Did this bastard just try to shoot me?”

Marius almost flinched when Vyn, just a meter or two from him, slammed his hands on the car horn repeatedly. If it wasn’t his pretty little husband Marius would’ve just shot the car until the tires go off and the driver dead; but then again it was Vyn inside that car, and—

And the windshield… has a crack. And I have a gun. And I…

Marius swallowed. And he must’ve accidentally pulled the trigger when he hopped out of the bushes from the sidewalk and tripped. And now Vyn thinks he tried to shoot him.

“Baby, accident.” Marius now stood in front of the car, and the sight of his husband—who looked angry as hell—could be seen clearly from his line of vision. He hoisted both arms, the way a cornered, guilty criminal would, and repeated his words gently, “Baby, accident. Accident.”

Marius gestured to his gun. “I tripped. Accident,” he shouted. Marius didn’t really give a damn anymore whether or not the neighbors would hear him. “Baby, accident—no, stop!”

Marius inhaled sharply as he heard the engine rev—and it revved loud, as if a warning, more than enough to tell Marius if he didn’t step out of the way at that very moment Vyn would drag him to death by way of a hit and run.

And he did not hesitate.

“No, stop! Wait!” Marius waved his arms frantically, almost throwing away his gun just so he could show Vyn he wouldn’t dare hurt him. However it was his mistake that he pondered it at all, because Vyn Richter was the pettiest man alive, petty enough to actually hit the gas and hurl the vehicle towards Marius.

Oh, shit. Is this my end?

The car steered forward, its speed almost inescapable (for anyone in Marius’ situation). Marius gathered all his weight and lunged at the car, and Vyn then piloted the steering wheel in a rapid pace, left and right, in an attempt to haul his husband—probably ex-husband soon—out of the car, but to no avail. “Get off my fucking car!” he yelled irritably. “Marius von Hagen!”

Marius even managed to smirk as he held onto the side of the car (for dear life). “Stop the car—” he shouted back, his face almost hitting the windshield. “Vilhelm von Hagen!”

“Fuck you.”

“When?”

“Saturday, if I have not killed you yet by then.”

“Sweet.” Marius took advantage of Vyn getting carried away by their banter—Vyn could only hiss out in frustration as Marius broke the passenger seat window with the handle of his gun. It didn’t take long before he was halfway inside the vehicle, and Vyn was fumbling with his seatbelt.

But Marius was a second too late. The moment he’d gotten inside entirely, Vyn had already thrown himself out of the vehicle, and the Mercedes, along with Marius, was heading straight to the dark woods.

“Fuck you,” Vyn spat, still lying on the asphalt, catching his breath. He had wounds and scratches all over his skin—so much for all his skin routines—but that did not matter at the time. He fished out his phone from his pocket and dialed a number.

“Good evening,” he greeted rather blandly. “Yes. Please fetch me, and bring something sweet. I need my sugar levels to spiral.”

==

Present times.

And so they are here, trying to shoot one another’s head. Marius had initially come to gather his hidden weapons, only to find them gone. Vyn must’ve found out. The psychiatrist, on the other hand, returned home and got his guns ready. Heck, Marius even considered the great possibility of his husband setting up traps within the house.

Now we can tell who loves who more.

Yeah. That would be me, Marius would say. I love this sick fuck more than he loves me.

He peeked at the stairs. Marius caught Vyn claiming the opposite wall as his barricade, swore to god heard his muse wince at what could’ve been new bruises. He chewed on his lower lip as he crouched and stalked along the hallway with confident precision—he moved the way shadows would devour the night, utterly soundless as he coursed towards their dining area, which was also a connecting room to their massive kitchen.

To Vyn’s kitchen, his mind noted, almost like an instinct. His beloved had always been the one to cook all their meals, bake mouthwatering desserts and mix their cocktails and most times they’d end up hot that Vyn would find himself bent over the counter with Marius railing him from behind. Sometimes atop that long table, where Marius would feast on his husband the way he would his favorite meal; in return, Vyn knelt on the carpet under the table and sucked Marius’ hard cock until he moaned and screamed his name and squirted his cum on Vyn’s crystalline smooth face.

Marius was never in the kitchen, that sacred place. Sacred to his husband, at least, but when he did go there, it was always to admire Vyn while he prepped their meals.

He let out a bitter chuckle as he entered the dimmed space. Good old days.

Marius scanned the room, one he was most familiar with, before he proceeded to check under the table and chairs, ran his hands along the wall, removed the exquisitely-framed portraits hanging on them as a precaution. He knew Vyn couldn’t have been here for long; he wouldn’t have ample enough time to set up his baits within the house, but just in case.

He’d learned well not to underestimate Vyn. Vyn Richter, of all people.

Keeping his steady stance, Marius trod towards the high archway that led to the kitchen hall. He moved with a spy’s practiced grace and quiet, walking about the area as he quickly drafted a plan in his head. It was safer here, he thought, for almost little to no lights were switched on, and none of them would dare, since the lights could only be opened with two claps or a snap. Even without Marius’ careful movements, Vyn won’t be able to locate him that quickly. Especially since their house was a goddamn mansion.

No, screw that. A goddamn castle. If Vyn had not declined his husband’s initial offer with regard to housing, their residence would have looked like Buckingham Palace, except it was in Stellis.

Well great. How nice would it be to reminisce while your husband’s lurking in the same house, trying to kill you? Marius blew a sigh through his nose, frustrated. Couldn’t this be resolved with yet another delftware imported from France—

Marius went cold. “Fuck.”

He went cold because somehow, he’d forgotten that he didn’t really own this kitchen. That even though he’d been here a lot of times to fuck his husband on that table and over that counter, he wasn’t there enough to fully know and memorize each tile, each wall, each delftware that perched on display. Because somehow, Marius had focused on the possible threats that he’d missed the most unsuspecting yet lethal ones: Vyn’s decorative collection of teacups and teapots and plates.

And perhaps the odds were not in his favor tonight, because Marius accidentally bumped into one, and the teapot—even though he had caught it with his hand at first—proceeded to take its fall and break itself into hundreds of tiny shards. Marius stilled, his blood thrumming in alarm.

At first, there was silence. The eerie kind.

And then rained a series of bullets from the dining room entrance.

“Fuck fuck fuck—”

Marius dived into floor, clutching his silencer. He crawled swiftly under the long table until he reached the archway to the kitchen. He stood on his feet and snatched his other pistol from its belt holster, scanning the kitchen—a fucking enormous kitchen—for efficient shields, weapons, or if the heavens somehow favored him again, a possible way out. An escape from his deranged husband.

He’s too beautiful for someone demented, though.

He heard footsteps. Slow and steady, its familiar, elegant cadence enough a warning for Marius to keep his guard, his guns hoisted and at the ready. In one stride, he took refuge beside the fridge, the opposite side of it facing the entrance.

And then there was a distant, honeyed voice. “You dare break my delftware.”

“You fired because of a fucking teapot?” Marius sneered, but cackled all the same. “You’re crazy.”

“Your fault for marrying me.”

“A horrible decision, really.”

Vyn pulled the trigger and fired, the bullet merely grazing past the fridge. A warning. “I gathered. Seeing how you are out almost every other night, only to a foolish spouse will that go unnoticed,” Vyn uttered, his voice laced with venom—bitterness. “Tell me, darling. How many ladies have you fucked while you were gone?”

Marius resisted the urge to step out of his hiding spot and confront his husband head-on. “Fucking stop it, Vyn. Are you serious? This again?” he complained, the grip around his silencer tightening in his simmering anger. “I never cheated on you, godammit. I told you—I was out for business. How many times do I have to drill that into your head?”

“Ah, yes. Business. And what exactly is your business, Marius?”

Marius chuckled. “I could ask you the same, baby,” he said in his smoothest, sweetest voice, then strode out from his refuge, aiming his silencer at Vyn. In those few, shared seconds of conversation he’d noted where his husband stood, where he was facing, the appliances which surrounded them—Vyn won’t be able to duck anywhere, and could not possibly sprint too fast to shield himself from Marius’ attack.

But then again—he shouldn’t have underestimated.

Because when he’d stepped out, Vyn was not there.

He was already behind him.

“Shit—”

He did the most possible, most horrible thing he could think of: as he swiveled round to Vyn’s direction, Marius hooked his fingers under the fridge’s recessed handle, pulled it open, then slammed its massive steal door against Vyn.

“Scheisse.” The fridge door rammed against him face-first—Vyn’s nose throbbed with a nasty pain, and he sensed hot liquid leaking from it, tasted the coppery tang of blood when it drifted further into his mouth. “Fucking. Swine.”

He knew the fridge door would be a serviceable shield, knew the bullets he’d fire would protect Marius no matter what and doing so would only be a disadvantage. However Vyn blasted back that instinct, that knowledge, and proceeded to rain yet another series of bullets towards Marius (or the fridge, actually), all because of sheer aggravation. How dare he slam that door into his face—was he not his muse, his darling? Was he not this ethereal man Marius had always drawn and sketched and painted on his canvases for he wished to preserve his beauty?

Goddammit—the curse looped inside Vyn’s head, his nose flaring with rage. His nose fucking hurt.

And Vyn screamed along his firing, both weapons aimed toward the fridge. The kitchen was dimmed, with no lights on and so all he could see were the blazing yellows and oranges and reds, could only hear the all-too-familiar bangs and booms as the shots blasted through the metal.

He stopped attacking. Vyn wept the blood from his face with the sleeve of his once immaculate, white coat, wincing as he did. His nose stung so much and it rendered him so very, very furious. “Marius von Hagen,” he said. Hissed.

A low chuckle. “Vilhelm von Hagen. Or would your surname be back to Richter now?”

And there was silence, utter silence, before Vyn’s life flashed before his eyes.

The psychiatrist could only slide back as the fridge—which was a whole lot bigger than him in all aspects possible, completely towering over him—started slanting from above and down to crush him. It was too swift that he could only clumsily stumble back, almost slipping on the tiles and making a fool out of himself.

Marius heard Vyn curse in a vague, foreign language—German, no, Svartian, probably—as he scurried to save himself and dodge his husband’s pretty little trick. Actually, screw that, Marius thought. Pushing this goddamn fridge might very well be his disadvantage: one, it was too heavy it took a lot of effort and energy, and two—the kitchen was a spacious room and he threw his only barricade away.

No matter. He will just have to remedy that, in whatever way he can.

Like taking advantage of his disoriented, recuperating rose by means of taking their electric stove and throwing it in Vyn’s direction.

He’d turned away before that stove hit his husband.

No. He didn’t want to see that.

Didn’t want to see his husband hurt.

He released a sharp breath and looked skyward, then blinked his eyes repeatedly, well-aware of the stinging tears threatening to flow. He ran to the exit all the same, his only goal to escape—he didn’t wish a violent shoot-out with his love, inside their home, no less, but he needed to return the act lest he got killed.

All this—the thought of killing Vyn would kill Marius just the same, anyway.

Heh. He didn’t seem to hesitate shooting me, was what roved in his mind as he made his quick escape. God. That hurt. That fucking hurts.

And he was now well on his way out, finally, with only a step before the archway when Marius peered over his shoulder—then regretted it shortly after.

A kitchen knife had grazed past his ear, the tip of its blade hitting the wall with a dull, slicing thud.

Marius stood there for a while, utterly shocked. Vyn hurled the blade too skillfully that blood trickled down his ear—only a slight brush with the knife, truly, and there was only a minor sting—and Marius recalled it again and again, the way that knife went past him so swiftly, almost like a soft winter’s breeze.

Maybe he deserved it. He’d broken not only Vyn’s delftware but his nose, too.

“Just to remind you, my darling.” Vyn stood steady far across him, his gun hanging by his side, his other arm still held forth after throwing the knife like a sports dart. He was bleeding, his nose and his arm, yet his poise was much like a prince’s, still, as if he hadn’t partaken in this chaos of an indoor shoot-out.

Oh and despite himself, Marius swooned when Vyn had addressed him darling.

“That you destroyed my fridge.” He leveled his gun, his aim at Marius’ direction. “And inside that fridge were all the pastries I had worked so hard for this goddamn week—more particularly that matcha cake.”

Ah, Marius thought, almost nodding unconsciously. I’m thoroughly fucked, then.

The psychiatrist fired another time, only once, but close enough to shoot off Marius’ ear.

Thoroughly, completely, perfectly fucked.

If that bullet blasted a few inches down Marius was sure he’d only have one serviceable ear left. Fuck it. Vyn’s aim was as good as his so thank the heavens the odds somehow favored him tonight because if they didn’t, his head would be pounding with a static burn at this very moment for he got his ear blown off to oblivion.

Marius sprinted. Not out, because the hallway was narrow and with how accurate Vyn’s aim is, he was certain he’d get shot at some point. So instead he darted to the side at lightspeed. “Goddammit, Vyn!” he shouted as Vyn fired constantly, following his every stride; thank goodness there were no kitchen lights and Vyn couldn’t see clearly even with those ugly glasses. “You’re really going to blow off my ear? How am I to hear your needy moans then?”

“You will not hear them again.”

“Not of pleasure,” said Marius as he slid behind the mid counter, hiding away from Vyn. He tugged open the small cabinet and swiftly made a slice on the gas hose before he slithered away like a madman and out to the archway. It would be nasty with that leaking gas and Vyn’s shotgun.

Wow, thank god we weren’t all into electric shit.

When Vyn fired, the kitchen exploded in flames.

Vyn threw himself back, and he crashed into the wooden floor, breaking his glasses in the process. Every part of him ached, and his head pounded; his vision was obscured without his glasses, the narrow hallway a distant horizon he was not sure he’d reach because he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe—

His thighs burned, a hot, searing pain pulsating within his loins, and it was only then that he realized he was on fire. Like it was his second nature the doctor halted thrashing and crawled to the nearest open space, that area near the archway, and rolled himself across, exhausting the flames on his person.

He wouldn’t dare glance at his burns. He couldn’t stomach them for sure.

Not because they were gruesome, no, but because he cared greatly for his vanity, and now his efforts had been all in vain. So much for face and body value.

He snatched his gun, then, and hastened out of the burning kitchen and into the dining area.

Vyn didn’t mind the burn, the throbbing, the pain that wished to devour him. Not when his adrenaline was spiraling and begging to be put to fucking use. His instinct—an assassin’s or a husband’s, he couldn’t discern—led him out and around the lobby, up the stairs, to that one, distinctive chamber his husband treasured most.

The Atelier.

The memories rushed in with each step, every soundless stride. He’d designed that room with Marius, had decorated it day and night with him. Had baked cookies and delivered them there, so Marius would have something to eat as he worked on his new opuses; had stayed by his side as he recounted stories with his paint.

Had taken off his silken robe as he perched on the chaise, naked, looking so ethereal as Marius painted him, brought his beauty to canvas.

The reward? Marius had fucked him silly all through the night, on that very same couch.

Vyn took deep breaths. He acknowledged those memories, accepted them. Then locked them all away.

He hoisted his gun, and tiptoed close, closer. No signs told him Marius was inside, but Vyn steered forward, trusting his gut as it churned at his intuition—he is here. I do not know why, but I know he is here.

He ticked that box with a check.

As he entered the room a silencer shot, hitting just behind him. Marius stood by the opened windows, his weapon in hand; a thick cable wrapped around the atelier’s metal handle and it fell outside, down to Vyn’s precious garden. He was escaping.

“Heh.” Vyn aimed his gun at Marius, the smirk on his face menacing. “Planning for escape?”

Marius threw him an annoyed glance. “You put the house on a fucking lockdown.”

Vyn shrugged his shoulders. “You were able to open that window,” he said. “Whatever happened to the alarms?”

“Switched them off first.”

“And the window?” No one was supposed to open any part of the house when it is on lockdown.

“I know shit on this house that you don’t know of.”

“Ah. Well, that does not matter.” Vyn trod forward, careful. The weapons were still aimed at one another as he neared a small, circular table where Marius’ rarest pigments sat in glass bell jars. “What matters is… oh, look. These are your pigments.”

“Vyn.”

“Such rare pigments,” mused Vyn, eyeing the expensive, imported, rare set of paints atop the table.

Marius took a cautionary step forward. His hand reached towards his husband, the gesture as if attempting to halt whatever deranged thing Vyn framed out to do. “Vyn—”

“Imported from Italy, yes?” The older man trailed, his finger brushing against the glass. “Ah. And this one was from our Grand Tour—France, if I remember correctly. From Louvre.”

“Don’t shoot it.” Marius’ voice shook. “Don’t fucking shoot it.”

Vyn stopped. He chuckled—then looked up at Marius. “All right,” he said with an innocent smile, “I won’t.”

Then struck the table’s legs so it tumbled down, onto the floor, the special paints now mere, vibrant stains that tarnished the wooden tiles.

Vyn sneered at Marius. “Screw you.”

And proceeded to fire not to his husband, but everything inside the atelier: the canvases, both empty and brimming with colors, the vases and the chairs and stools, the portraits on the wall, the unfinished sketches and all the works in progress—the Seti Falls among other brilliant landscapes of their travels in Skadi, in and around Stellis, all the way to Europe.

Marius seethed, and one may even argue he was about to breathe out flames. “You fucking fiend—”

Vyn halted his advances when his aim pointed to an unfinished portrait of him.

Gods, he looked beautiful in it. Like the image of a prince, one of which a hopeful maiden would see only in the fairytales she reads, wondering if she’d ever snag a man as handsome as him. His lips were curved into a half-smile, all so lucious, and Vyn felt that familiar, rancid guilt tug at him—only a little, he wanted to deny it—as he wondered the many hours Marius had worked to capture him as beautifully as he could. Not that it was a hard task, for Vyn had always been a most spectacular muse, but still…

He lowered his gun and spared that portrait from his rage—saved himself from his own, unfettered violence.

But soon enough, Dr. Richter would realize that only portrait Vyn had been granted salvation.

Vyn nonchalantly aimed at his husband another time, did not hesitate, even a sliver, as he pulled the trigger toward Marius. But Marius dodged and rolled to his back, deftly until he tumbled against the wall under the window, and with a terrifyingly calm expression poised himself to kneel on the tiles.

Vyn reloaded his gun. “What are you doing, kneeling there?” he seethed. “Have you given up, darling?”

“No,” said Marius, a chuckle rumbling down his body. His amethyst eyes had darkened, and Vyn tensed, feeling gooseflesh all over his skin as Marius took something out of his person—a hand grenade.

“You know what,” the young von Hagen began, his voice low and cold, “I shouldn’t have tended your garden during the days you weren’t here.”

“You are to stop this instant.”

“What do you say? Fuck off and say adiós to your precious little garden.” It only took a split of a second as Marius pulled the pin with his mouth, and tossed it behind him, the grenade hurtling over his husband’s precious sanctuary of roses and lilies.

Only a split second before Vyn Richter’s garden exploded into a thousand, splendid fireworks.

And if it weren’t for his unmitigated, passionate fury thrumming with each breath, each step, and every thunder of his heart transcending over the harrowing, golden flames burning in the dead of night, of which singed the beloved flowers he’d tended to for years, Vyn would’ve fallen to his knees onto the wooden tiles, and cried his heart out in heavy grief.

But Vyn stood there, not moving an inch, as he watched the scorching fire. The flares flickered in his eyes, round and round the deepest trenches of those golden hues, until all he could see and feel was…

Well, nothing. As if unbothered.

However his mind, his brilliant mind toiled clearly—too vivid, the thoughts smooth-sailing in his ocean of schemes.

“Dieser verdammte Marius,” he muttered—that goddamn Marius—as he strode near the doorway, opened an emergency cabinet, and pulled the heavy, metal handle, activating the manor’s fire sprinklers.

Wet chemicals erupted from the ceilings, all over the house. Vyn navigated the halls and the rooms with precision, checking the bedroom, the lounge, the bar, in a search for a certain von Hagen.

He hoisted his gun as he trod to each chamber, each corridor. Vyn went down the stairs and proceeded, with much caution, to the main living room—

When a click sounded behind him.

“Let’s stop this now, Vyn,” Marius said quietly as he drew closer, his silencer only a meter or two away from his husband’s back.

“Unlock the house, and we can separate in peace—”

Vyn swung around, pivoting on his heel, and knocked Marius’ weapon out of his grasp.

Marius stumbled to the side, but maintained his balance almost as instantly. “What the—”

“You are naive to think that after all this, I would let you out.” Now it was his time to brandish his gun, leveling the weapon slowly to Marius, who now had both hands raised in surrender. He was on the farthest corner of the room, trapped; his only escape was the very path Vyn stood on, getting in his way out, deliberately so. “Well, well. What do we have here?”

“Your loving husband.”

Vyn’s brow raised, and his features scrunched into disdain. “I would not say that—”

He was cut off by Marius pouncing onto him with all his weight, Marius’ hands wrapped around his own, restricting him and the gun. And before Vyn could even try to get away Marius sent him to the ground—Marius had forcefully slid his leg against Vyn’s, and when his husband lost his balance, the two of them plunged into the floor.

At the impact, Vyn’s grip loosened, and Marius kicked the gun away from them as he helped himself up.

Oh, zounds. Why did I kick it away? I should’ve taken it—

A flower vase came hurtling toward him, and Marius shielded his face from the glass, letting it break into tiny shards as it fell to the floor. And his jaw might’ve been broken, too, for Vyn had suddenly appeared in front of him, and threw Marius the best jaw-breaking punch he had ever received.

“Fuck—”

It was painful, to be sure, but he had no time for such. He caught Vyn rushing to the doorway.

What’s he doing?

Marius’ face scrunched and he winced, the pain in his jaw utterly excruciating.

Oh.

Oh.

Fuck.

He’s going for the gun.

“No way in hell.”

Marius the nearest object he could find—a mini coffee table—and hurled it in Vyn’s direction.

He stood on his feet and sprinted to the doorway. The table had hit Vyn’s torso, the impact heavy on his waist, and he dropped to the floor, groaning in pain.

But before Marius could reach for the gun himself, Vyn held him by the leg.

He landed face-forward. His arms, thank goodness, saved him from rendering his handsome face wretched. Marius rolled onto his back, only for Vyn to lunge at him.

Vyn first threw a punch to his jaw yet again, but Marius caught his wrists. With a mighty force Marius was able to toss Vyn to the side—he was the stronger one, after all—and Vyn ended up with his back against the couch.

Vyn was still recuperating when Marius came to wrap his hands around Vyn’s neck, restricting his breathing. His hands went instinctively around Marius’, punching and pulling and desperate to get away. At last Vyn gathered enough strength to move away from the chaise and to the side, bringing Marius with him; Marius who, despite his strength, admitted to struggling with Vyn’s futile attempts to escape.

But the next thing Marius knew, he was throwing his husband across the room.

Vyn flew directly to the massive grandfather’s clock, the glass shattering and raining over him.

Blood now stained the doctor’s face, his body. But at that very minute he wouldn’t feel any wound, any injury. Just the unfaltering will to fight to death with his husband.

He felt betrayed.

He was scared. He was so scared he would lose him—to a woman, to PAX, to this. Add the five consecutive nights he’d prepared dinner for them and Marius never came home.

He’d rather end the marriage here than in court.

Marius dashed towards him, ready to pounce. Vyn caught sight of the expensive wine bottles on the table beside him.

And so he snatched two of the wine bottles and smashed them on either side of Marius’ head. The bottles crashed, and Marius bellowed in pain. Crimson leaked in his skin, his clothes—was it the wine? His blood? Vyn swallowed as took in the sight of his husband, hands on his head, moaning in deep pain; he looked away immediately and strode out from Marius’ reach.

Marius chuckled. “Of course you’ll go for the gun.”

“Do you not think it the easiest way out?” Vyn merely said, his voice higher, obviously vexed. Yet the way he spat those words was honeyed, still. “I shoot you, I win.”

“Is that what this is all about?”

“Yes.”

“Ah.” Marius staggered, but pressed onward. “Then you’re not getting that gun.”

In quick strides Marius threw himself at Vyn, but the older man rolled himself easily over the couch. Marius pushed the chaise to the side with one swift move, and only the oval glass-lined coffee table separated them.

Like that table’s gonna do shit.

And it all began with footwork. In his fighting stance, Marius assessed his husband, the two of them circling around the table slowly, vigilantly. Waiting for the other to hint at their weakness, to give away their hidden cards—neither knew the other’s tricks, having only found out their secret careers this evening.

But goddammit, Marius cursed inwardly as he observed his muse with that perfect sparring form, however his bearing elegant, still. The lock of his shoulders, the way his forearms were bent to his elbows, his knees curved just right; that determined face, his brimming confidence—goddammit, goddammit, goddammit.

Perfect.

He’s perfect.

I love him.

“Well fuck me. You always made me carry your heavy stuff, but now you look like you’re ready to carry me to my grave.”

Vyn smirked—then pushed the table with his foot.

The force was too strong that Marius knew he wouldn’t be able to stop it on his own, and that he’d only hurt whatever part of him that met the table’s edge. The table slid forward, launching straight at Marius, and all he could do was leap on top of the table.

It was small, that table. Marius lost his balance and fell face-forward to the marble tiles.

“Fuck it,” he groaned, his elbows stinging. “I fucking hate you—”

Vyn gripped his shoulder and swung him around, his back now on the floor. “Hello, my love,” he purred as he pinned both Marius’ hands atop his head, then straddled him. “Do you like this?”

Marius smirked. “You on top? Hell yeah.”

Vyn’s fist went flying to his face.

“FUCK—” Marius groaned, his nose stinging. He could almost taste the metallic tang of blood. “I can’t believe you ordered me to carry your shit around when you can punch this hard.”

“You betrayed me.” Vyn landed another punch. “You are a liar! You lied to me!”

“Look who’s fucking talking!”

“Go to hell.”

With his weakening grip on Marius, the young von Hagen was able to snatch his arms and finally turn the goddamn tables. He wrapped his legs around Vyn’s torso and flung themselves to the side.

Vyn gasped. Marius now sat on top of him, towering over him. His grip on Vyn’s wrists was too tight they could’ve been red with the mark of his fingers, or a nasty purple because of bruising—god, they could’ve been a pale blue for that grip might as well halt the blood from coursing through.

“Now, now, sweetheart.” Marius pinned his lover’s wrists on the floor. He noted the slightly frantic tussling, Vyn’s… sexy labored breathing. “I think I like this better,” he whispered. “Me on top of you.”

And Vyn could only gasp as Marius grappled his throat. Not to kill him—to weaken him, somehow. To make him lose consciousness. And then he’ll decide from there.

“Hck—” Vyn’s choking filled his ears and, even when he wanted to, he couldn’t look away. “M-Marius—”

Stop it. You’re hurting him.

His grip did not weaken.

“Hck… P-Please—”

Don’t say it. Don’t.

Say it. Vyn hurt you. You’re just returning the favor.

I can’t...

“Look at you. I love choking you like this,” Marius spat, his eyes dark and wicked. I’m going to hell for this—I’m sure of it. “If only this were a different circumstance.”

He caught Vyn’s arm flailing to his sides, and Marius wondered why he’d suddenly stopped grasping the hands that throttled him—until Vyn seized something and smashed it to his head, sending him backward.

A lampshade this time. From yet another small desk drawer just beside them.

Well, Marius thought. I should’ve seen that coming.

Vyn was, however, still frail from Marius’ attempt to strangle him. His breathing was strained, his face breaking out in cold sweat.

And hot tears rolled down his pale, bloodied cheeks.

However his adrenaline pumped again, and again, and even when his head pounded a fire burned from within, and he tried to go on all fours, a futile attempt to stand.

Marius now stood, albeit unsteadily due to the impact of the lampshade on his temple. “Come on, honey,” he managed to say despite himself, imitating a sparring stance, “come to daddy.”

Vyn inhaled a sharp breath.

He turned on his back, then, and used all his remaining strength to kick his husband’s groin.

“Fucking fiend—” Marius moaned in agony as he fell to his knees.

“Heh,” Vyn chuckled darkly. “Who’s your daddy now?”

“Ahahaha,” Marius managed a laugh. For some reason, it did not sound even the least sarcastic. In fact, it sounded so… genuine. “That’d still be me, Vyn,” he breathed, “still me.”

Then he rolled to the side, Vyn the other way around.

When they got up to their feet, nimble as men who were yet to be injured and beaten up, Vyn and Marius found themselves in a rather precarious situation:

Their guns on each other’s heads.

Blood coated their faces. Some trickled down, some already dried from earlier’s violence, the crimson-brown marking their skin as if pinpointing just where they had tried to inflict pain on one another. Desperate breaths filled the thrashed room, heaving in attempts to ease the thumping hearts, seemingly beating for something other than the desire to kill—perhaps beating for love, still.

The room had now quieted. No more crashing and shattering and heavy thuds brought about by relentless kicking and punching and hurling. The once catastrophic space was now but a peaceful one, at least in terms of sound and every other external force of nature.

“Let us end this here.”

Vyn’s tone never wavered. It was still as honeyed, elegant. But neither had the strength to actually ask, is that what you really want?

“Baby.”

“Stop,” he said, or rather breathed, as if Vyn had drained all capacity to speak, and Marius almost didn’t hear it, but he did. He always did. “Don’t you dare call me that.”

“Okay.” Marius nodded. His gaze remained fixated on Vyn, who so determinedly held out his gun, although Marius wondered why his finger was a little far off from the trigger. He took that as a good sign—something to hold onto. “So,” he began, his silencer still aimed towards his husband, “what now?”

I do not know, he had the urge to say. But he wouldn’t say it. Not in this life.

“Are we to stay like this the entire night, Vyn?”

“No, of course not.”

“Should I worry now?”

“As you should.”

“You’re going to kill me?”

Vyn’s eyes snapped to him, meeting those eyes of dark amethyst, and Vyn realized he hadn’t been looking at Marius this whole time, only to a random part of his face so it would seem like he was strong enough to take this head-on. But when their eyes met he felt his breath catch, and gods did Vyn want to whip everything back in time just so this didn’t happen. Just so he would have him back.

It is still him, he told himself. This youthful man, so willingly returning his gaze even though Vyn bore some brutal promise, always the man who could see him, who chooses to see through him and accepts what sought refuge beneath the facade—still Marius.

My Marius.

Vyn gasped, more loudly than he’d intended, when the silencer dropped to the floor.

His line of sight panned up to Marius. “What are you doing?” he hissed with unmistakable, rising fury. “Pick it up.”

Marius raised his arms, slowly, in surrender. “I don’t want to.”

“Pick up the gun.”

“I can’t.”

He inhaled sharply that the air could cut his throat, which was painfully drying, his heartbeat starting to race another time as he attempted to persuade him, “Pick it up, Marius! Pick the fucking gun—”

“No,” Marius said, shaking his head in regret.

“FIGHT. FAIR. THIS IS NOT FAIR.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you?”

“Believe me.”

He was pleading, and Vyn knew that. Not pleading for his life, but pleading his love.

Until Vyn asked, “Why did you do it?”

His eyes lit up. It didn’t matter whether Vyn would accept his answer, he didn’t even care if he would believe him, but he was so damn happy Vyn was at least interested to know. And he deserved the truth—he ought to grant his husband that.

“I’m…” He breathed in, his line of sight entirely on the floor, trying to find the perfect explanation. “I don’t know. I guess I just love—”

“Killing other people?”

He looked up at Vyn. “Bloodlust—that’s it, yeah?”

Vyn scoffed. “Bloodlust. Are you kidding me?”

“I had killed someone for Giann. Accidentally,” he began, “an act of self-defense, to save myself and him. He was drugged and unconscious and we were alone, and we were kids.

“And I felt like a different person, you know? Stabbing that man to death. Torturing him until he begged that I end his suffering. Instead I got a blunt knife…” He trailed, his voice now dripping with that familiar longing, that familiar tone of satisfaction Vyn so knew about him, “started carving the family insignia deep into his skin while I listened to his pleas, his screaming, and watched the way his blood leaked from his cuts…

“It was, to say the least, a feast to my senses.” Marius chuckled, his voice dark, almost evil. As if Vyn’s kind, youthful husband had gone, had turned into someone unspeakable, someone he didn’t know. Or perhaps, a Marius he has yet to meet. “That was when I realized I let another me live within. He’s someone who loved drawing blood, someone who craved for violence. All of this, Vyn—I do it all for fun. I couldn’t get it out of my system. So, yeah.”

“You could have told me,” whispered Vyn. Marius wanted to believe he saw those golden irises soften, even only for a passing beat. “You could have trusted me.”

“I trust you, baby. But no,” he said resolutely, “I love you, so damn much, and I wanted to be perfect for you.”

Marius took a step forward. Vyn’s grasp tightened around the gun.

But Marius pressed forth. Arms falling heavy on either side he took yet another step, his mouth curving on a slight, sad smile as he walked closer, and closer, dangerously closer to the beautiful man who carried such a hideous promise.

“I want to be the perfect man…” Marius halted, just a few breaths away from the gun aimed directly at him. He crouched a little, leaned forward—

Vyn gasped. His whole body tremored, a sudden chill running all over his skin.

Marius wrapped his long fingers around the gun’s barrel, tugging it towards himself, pressing his chest against the hot muzzle. “The perfect husband for you.”

He observed as Vyn continued to nibble on his lower lip, biting it hard that it reddened with the threat of blood, and Marius’ chest tightened as he saw those golden hues now glossy with emerging tears. Vyn’s breathing had gone from composed to ragged, and soon the hand which held the gun started to shake.

“Vyn,” his husband called softly, “I love you, okay?”

He was surprised to feel hot tears filling his eyes, a stray of it rolling past his bloodied cheek. “Marius…”

“Vyn?”

“I…” he paused, grasping for words, suddenly losing all the vigor to fight. His heart shattered at this, at everything—at himself for being such a petty husband who never truly gave Marius the chance to prove himself, all because of some missed dinners. Who never gave Marius the benefit of the doubt even when Vyn saw in his eyes a flicker of hope.

He was so lost swimming in his ocean of thoughts that he never noticed Marius, who started easing away the gun ever so calmly, and Vyn—exhausted and drained out of his wits—allowed him his weapon to make its descent, down until he himself decided to drop it to the floor.

And he seemed to be in a daze indeed as Marius pressing closer to him went unnoticed, until Vyn realized, only after almost a minute, that Marius had gotten their bodies closer, almost skin to skin…

Marius knew he was quite awake now—from all his little reveries—and while he expected Vyn to land another blow or finish him once and for all, he was surprised when his husband’s gaze flitted from his lips before it settled up to his eyes, his pale, slender hands sliding to his chest as he whispered, “I love you too, Marius.”

Then Vyn was pushed onto the couch.

The doctor gasped, too surprised that it was a pitch higher than usual, and for a moment he was afraid that Marius had gotten the upper hand with his trick and now he ought to strangle him, but his gut believed otherwise, and his gut turned out to be right because Marius leaned down to kiss him—rough and wet, hungry as his tongue lapped in his mouth, a quiet sentiment of how Marius would rather kiss and touch and fuck him instead of sending blazing bullets all over their house.

“Mm—oh, Marius…” he whined as Marius pressed against him, almost straddling him, his hands relishing the softness of Vyn’s face and disregarding the feel of dried blood there, and now making their way towards the back of Vyn’s head, fingers brushing, tangling, pulling on those silver locks.

He felt his pants tighten at the sound of Vyn’s moans, and he grabbed a fistful of his hair and dragged his head back, suddenly feeling the lust of tasting Vyn’s exposed neck. Marius leaned down, his mouth pressed against his neck, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses along soft skin, tasting blood and hot sweat. He bit lightly at the hollow of his shoulder—

“Ah!” Vyn cried in perhaps both pleasure and pain, his fingers clutching desperately on Marius’ sleeves—sleeves that were rolled all the way up near his elbows and it was so sexy Vyn almost wanted to wave the white flag, in the middle of their shoot-out, just so he could fuck him. So he could kiss him, kneel in front of him, fulfilling his husbandly duty of sucking his cock. “Marius…”

“We literally just started,” Marius said as he looked up to meet Vyn’s eyes, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips.

“Fuck you.”

“Darling, I’m about to.”

“Well why don’t you get on with it? Or would you rather waste my—oh, fuck—Marius!”

Vyn could only screw his eyes shut, and Marius could only let out a satisfied groan as he ground his hips against Vyn’s, biting his lip as he felt that hard erection, the proof of his husband’s growing need and oh, how he’d love to satisfy him. “What was that?”

“Will you ever stop talking—”

Marius shut him up with another kiss on the mouth. Vyn tasted sweet, as usual, however Marius made out the metallic flavor of blood, but it’s not like he would mind. It’s his husband’s blood, anyway, and he’d be most willing to take a sip of it, drink it, chug it until it sank down his throat the way he would his chocolate drink.

Ah, but Marius loved it more when it was Vyn who did that with his cum.

As he kissed Vyn he continued moving, grinding his hips until all he could hear were the melodies of Vyn’s whines and sighs, and gods was he so distracted Marius failed to notice Vyn already taking the matter into his own hands unbuttoning Marius’ shirt, and with fervent speed at that.

He suppressed a laugh as he bowed his head, watching in awe as Vyn fumbled with the buttons of his black shirt, breathing so hard and sensually as if he could wait no longer. In fact it felt like Vyn would be very much happy to just tear his shirt apart—not that his husband would mind, either.

“You were so determined to kill me earlier,” Marius said as Vyn unbuttoned the very last one, “but now you’re so hot and horny for me. I told you I did like your mood swings—hmph!”

He was cut off by Vyn’s mouth claiming his own—much to his delight—and soon he found himself hooking his arms under Vyn’s spine and the back of his legs, his feet then making way to their bedroom on the second floor. Vyn wrapped his arms around Marius’ neck instinctively, even pulling him closer as if he needed more, plenty more of him, and Marius loved the way his husband craved for his kisses that it must have given him some omniscient power to navigate the halls and the stairs in the dark so precisely.

In a minute a heavy thud reverberated, echoing across the massive bedroom as Marius opened the door—or rather twisted the knob then kicked the door—and went towards the bed with much haste. He’d licked, bitten, lapped at Vyn’s mouth one last time before he dropped him to the king-sized bed, covered in midnight-lacquered sheets, and proceeded to take off his shirt—

“Wait,” Vyn protested, but before his husband could respond he hooked his two fingers round the belt loop of Marius’ pants, and tugged him closer. It was so damn hot Marius’ cock twitched.

Suddenly he wanted to grab a fistful of Vyn’s hair and make him suck his dick. He’d fuck Vyn’s mouth so well with his hard cock the man would be a beautiful, crying mess the moment he swallowed his cum.

“I…” Vyn turned a little red. “I want to suck you.”

Marius swallowed as he hurried to comply, feeling a certain heat within him intensify. Vyn was already kneeling on the bed, making quick work unbuckling Marius’ belt and letting his cock spring free and fuck, Marius’ cock was heavy and warm and slick with precum, and Vyn felt his own twitch against the fabric of his pants.

He did not waste time. Vyn wrapped his long, slender fingers around his husband’s cock, feeling Marius throb against his palm, his cold fingers. He had sucked Marius dry since god knows when, but suddenly he felt like this was all new, that he was nervous and shy again, and it was as if he was taken back to their first night as two married men. That first night after Vyn said Yes, I do, I shall marry you, and Marius beamed and Vyn thought his husband could rival the sun. Funny what some husband quarrel and house violence could do to you—

“Just so you know, Vyn.” A low, impatient voice pulled him away from his thoughts. “I’m this close to shoving your face down my cock, if you don’t mind.”

Vyn bit his lip as he saw yet again that massive, hard cock staring right in front of him, waiting to be devoured. God, his husband’s cock was so beautiful, thick and velvety soft that his breath caught. And realizing once again that someone was getting impatient, Vyn leaned in and licked gently under the crown of Marius’ dick.

“Fuck.” Marius’ head dipped back, feeling his cock twitch against Vyn’s tongue. “Please—”

He rasped as Vyn complied, letting his mouth close around the head of his husband’s rock-hard cock—

“Fffuck,” Marius breathed, panting as Vyn made swirling motions with his tongue as he slid halfway down his length, “Fuck, Vyn!”

His eyes screwed shut, his hands clutching onto Vyn’s silver locks, and moaned out a broken cry as Vyn sucked his whole length, deep throating him, his wet, warm lips touching his Marius’ hot skin. “Fuck, Jesus.”

Vyn moaned around his cock, and as Marius felt it vibrate around him he dipped his head back again, seeing the goddamn stars. Vyn’s moaning didn’t stop even as he sucked his husband’s dick, Marius’ cock moving in and out of his mouth. Marius tasted so good. Every time Vyn sucked him it seemed he tasted even better and better, as if there were new flavours to his taste of clean sweat, of salty skin, and god even his precum seemed heavenly to Vyn’s tongue, melting like chocolate. His eyes fluttered shut as he sucked. God, he would suck this man’s cock forever.

Until Marius tugged Vyn’s head back, “Fuck, wait.” He panted heavily, and as he saw Vyn lick his lips—still glistening wet from his own saliva and Marius’ precum—Marius wanted to plug that pretty little mouth with his dick again. But he held himself together and said, “Wait. I’m… I was about to…”

“I’d swallow everything, Marius.”

“Fuck, stop it. Stop it or you’ll have to choke on my dick the rest of the evening.”

“What is the matter?”

Marius’ cheeks tinged a bit pink. He looked much like a teenager who wanted to try sex with his crush. “I want to… I—”

“Too good?” Vyn smirked.

“Fuck you.” A smile tugged at the edge of his lips. Marius caressed Vyn’s hair, as softly as he could. “I want to come inside you.”

Vyn swallowed, his mind once again drawn to their little memories of fucking every night until both their legs had given in, and Marius thought the same. God, he  couldn’t stop staring at his husband. Vyn looked ethereal bathed in the bedroom’s soft orange glow…

However this time it was Marius who was stripped—so quickly—from his reveries as he was pulled, thrown to the bed, with Vyn taking off his shirt, leaving his necktie around. His shirt was hauled off to the floor in a second, and now Vyn looked like some fallen angel as he straddled Marius, untying the silken tie with deft fingers, his wet lips parted in awe…

“What are you gonna do with that, huh?” Marius’ hand slipped round his husband’s waist. We’ve been married for years but goddammit, your waist is so fucking small.

“You’re gonna use that on me?” he added, whispering against the shell of Vyn’s ear, making his husband shudder. God, he loved it when Vyn did that. Loved it when his ministrations, even the smallest ones, had a great effect on him. “And look at you, don’t you think you’re a bit overdressed for the occasion?”

“I—ah—”

His cock twitched again that it almost hurt, as if begging to be hilted inside Vyn’s ass. Vyn had the sexy habit of whining and making those kinds of sounds whenever he’s surprised or caught unawares, like that very moment when Marius stripped him off his vest with one go, the buttons clinking on the floor in unison. Marius didn��t waste a second and gripped the sleeves of his doctor’s coat, tugging it off him.

Until Vyn caught his wrists and said, “Let me.”

The muse started taking off his vest—slowly, tantalizingly. He knew all too well this act was a feast for his husband’s eyes, for his cock. The slutty bottom that he was, Vyn removed his clothing alongside his heavy, sexy breathing, his mouth slightly ajar, with some stray, silver strands falling over his eyes.

The vest went abandoned. Thrown to the floor just like all else. The shirt followed, Vyn making sure the sounds he made were heard, acknowledged—oh acknowledged indeed, what with his husband’s erection poking against his leg—and he couldn’t help but suppress a smile knowing Marius was having a hard time keeping his hands to himself.

When everything was unbuttoned, Vyn let the right sleeve slide down his arm, revealing some skin on his chest, his collarbone, his shoulder. Marius had seen it all, but still he thought he looked so ethereal, and so hot all the same that he was torn between treating him right—sweetly, gently—and fucking him so rough and so hard he won’t be able to walk the next day.

By instinct, Marius looked away. He bit his lip as he did, setting his sights away as he was suddenly so overwhelmed, so doubtful—do I even deserve this, he asked himself, realizing that it had been his fault why the shoot-out occurred in the first place: he missed a lot of dinners with Vyn. He was always out for his business of killing other people. He hurt him in all ways possible, especially tonight.

But then, “Marius.”

His gaze returned to Vyn. “Darling?”

“Do not look away.” Vyn’s hands, soft and cold, reached to caress his face. “Just look at me,” he said, his voice like that of an angel’s, “this is all yours—all of me. I am yours.”

Marius made sure that shirt was off his husband immediately.

He’d kissed him again, a mix of love and dominance, of lust and longing. Arms tight around Vyn’s waist he pulled his muse close to him, skin to skin, but he wanted them to be closer. He wanted to be inside him—to own him, body and soul.

He loved Vyn. Marius wouldn’t know who he is without him.

“I love you,” he grunted as Vyn ground against his erection, “I love you.” His hands wandered up his spine and down his ass, squeezing it, eliciting a moan from Vyn. “I love you.”

But it wasn’t long until Marius took his black, silken tie, staring intently, lustfully at Vyn before he hoisted it in between them, “May I?”

Vyn raised his wrists in answer. “And my tie?”

“For your eyes,” Marius said, his eyes darkening. “I was thinking your mouth, but I love hearing your noises.

“I love hearing your moans. Your whines. I love it when you scream my name.”

Marius licked his lips, and his chest swelled with triumph as he saw Vyn shiver again, turned on by a few words. Vyn gasped in surprise as Marius finished tying his wrists, pulling on the knot a bit harshly than he’d intended.

“Now,” Marius said as he worked on Vyn’s red tie, “you love the dark, don’t you darling?”

A whine escaped his lips as he was pushed to the bed. He couldn’t even recall how Marius looped and that red, silken tie around his eyes. All he knew now was he’s on the bed, on his back, his hands tied in front of him. “Ah, Marius…”

“What was that?”

Vyn could only nibble on his lower lip. “Please… oh!”

He moaned as he felt his husband’s mouth, warm and wet, close around his nipple. His toes curled at the sensation, especially at how Marius knew just how to kiss, lick, and suck his nipple and make him cry and moan so loud. His body moved frantically, the pleasure almost maddening now that his vision was obscured, and not knowing what Marius was gonna do next was killing him.

However soon he felt large hands grip his thighs, hoisting them, and Vyn most willingly submitted by wrapping his legs around Marius’ hips. He was now on top of him, could feel his hot, ragged breaths against his skin.

“You’re so hot,” Marius whispered as he kissed Vyn’s beauty mark, that one on his collarbone, “I just love fucking you so much,” he said, before unbuttoning Vyn’s pants and sliding his hand down under, wrapping his fingers around Vyn’s length.

“Oh! Marius, ah—”

“Yes, just like that…”

“Please!”

“You like that? Damn, you’re actually making this harder for me… let me just…”

Marius stopped, his hurrying hands fumbling on Vyn’s pants, in much haste to get inside him. Oh how badly he wanted to fuck his husband when he all but looked like a willing captive, writhing underneath him—he let his fingers travel down under, lingering on Vyn’s back, then trailing further south, massaging his arse, lifting Vyn a little in the process.

Marius did not waste any more time and took the head of his own cock, moving his hard-on closer until it rubbed softly, carefully over Vyn’s hole. He rasped as he did a little push inside. “Shit.”

“M-Marius…”

Marius took that as his signal to push further, letting out a small grunt as he moved another inch, then another, and he took satisfaction witnessing Vyn’s mouth parting as he whined, silver brows furrowed in pleasure. “Ohh, Marius—”

Marius gripped on his husband’s waist and hilted his entire cock inside him.

Vyn whined again, so loud Marius wondered if his voice reached the outside, even with their windows closed. Vyn cried as Marius moved inside him, his thick, warm cock fitting perfectly in his ass, hilting deeper and deeper with each thrust that Vyn couldn’t stop muttering curses and Marius, Marius didn’t have any words for it—just sounds, low and needy. Just grunts, and moans, and whines and cries.

Marius thrust again. Harder, deeper—

“Ohh, just like that!”

“Yeah?”

“Mm—ohh, f-faster please—!”

Marius nodded frantically, and he thought how much Vyn had an effect on him that, despite Vyn being the one tied up and writhing underneath him, Marius was actually the one in his mercy.

Good. Deservedly so. Vyn Richter was his Saving Grace and he’d worship the man forever.

“Ah—fuck! Marius…!” moaned the older man, biting his lip as he welcomed the familiar pain—and pleasure—down his nether part. It was only then Marius realized he had been too excited to claim Vyn that the thought of using a lubricant or even covering his dick with saliva never crossed his mind.

“Fuck, Vyn. Does it hurt?” he asked, but never stopped moving, pulling and pushing back in.

“N-no! It feels good. You feel good…” he moaned as he shook his head, “I’d rather you—ah!—fucked me hard.”

And it was enough to make Marius pin his husband’s hands atop his head, cursing as he thrust in, and out, so hard and so deep tears started rolling down Vyn’s pale cheeks. “Faster?”

“Y-yes!”

Marius gripped hard around Vyn’s wrists, railing the man as hard as he could, making Vyn cry with each powerful thrust. The sounds of wet, forceful squelching echoed across the room and, partnered with Vyn Richter’s needy moans, Marius thought damn, I should’ve brought a recorder.

Well, it’s not like he couldn’t do that soon. Pretty sure Vyn would be most willing to film all their blasphemous activities together. “I’m close.”

“M-me too…” Vyn bit his lip, his back arching in ecstasy brought about by their bodies, skin to skin. Marius pounded faster. It felt like fire, really, and he felt his stomach surging and ebbing and surging again and again with pleasure. They moved in sync now, Vyn’s hips thrusting to match his husband’s pace, and he knew he was close when he felt that electric sensation zipping through his veins, his loins, his cock. “M-Marius…!”

His balls drew up tight as Marius slammed into him, again and again. Vyn could only let out a broken cry as he sensed Marius’ hand grasping his cock, jerking it as fast and as hard, perfectly matched with the way Marius pumped his dick inside him in a relentless rhythm.

Vyn came. Loud, majestic, his hot cum spurting on Marius’ stomach and making a beautiful mess there, much like the way he was one. His head was fucking spinning and he thanked Marius for it. And he kept on crying out even as Marius came, his fresh seed filling Vyn up like he was always meant to.

He kept on going. Grinding in him so deep, so sensual, thrusting again and again and letting his very hard cock feel inside Vyn, helping both of them through the very last of their orgasms. Again, then again. One last time, until Vyn croaked weakly, and Marius grunted as he fell on the empty space on the bed, beside his husband.

Despite the exhaustion, he shifted to his side. Took the blindfold off his husband. Vyn’s eyes fluttered open immediately, albeit blearily, the fringe of his long, silver lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. He gave Marius a weak smile. “That was…”

Marius let out a soft laugh, feeling the last bits of his energy dripping away. “I want to fuck you again.” He relaxed, but felt himself stiffen at the sight of his husband: ethereal. Beautiful with his cheeks flushed and mouth parted, his neck and chest gleaming in sweat. Vyn Richter, once again, in the afterglow of mindblowing sex.

“I love you,” he whispered, though he was not sure if Vyn heard. His eyes were already closed, and he looked like he was fast asleep. Marius smiled and snuggled close to him, with Vyn’s soft breathing lulling him to slumber.

==

Sometime around his dream, if he ever truly dreamed, he heard a silken voice say, “I love you, too.” Felt a gentle kiss on his forehead once, twice. Then another, “I will love you forever.”

When he awoke in the middle of the night, the quiet surrounding them, he saw Vyn was sound asleep. He rested his head against the hollow of Vyn’s neck, inhaling his sweet scent, and wrapped his arms around him. “Vyn,” he whispered, “I’ll love you forever, too,” before he kissed him on the cheek.

Somehow, Marius knew he hadn’t dreamt it.

==

Vyn awoke three hours earlier than usual, his eyes bleary, almost blind as he stared at the digital clock which blinked 5:58 AM. He wouldn’t be up this early, but his phone rang so alarmingly in the distance—atop that couch beside their bed where Marius fucked him the whole night—and with a ringtone he wouldn’t dare not pick up, lest he received yet another lecture. An hour or two of it, even if that lecture came from his, well… not his superior, because he was the superior.

He sighed—it was his junior calling. “Good morning, my rose.”

“DON’T ‘MY ROSE’ ME, RICHTER-VON HAGEN!” came his beloved junior’s rather sweet response, and Vyn instinctively pulled his phone away from his ear, unless he wanted his hearing damaged forever. “WHAT THE HECK HAPPENED TO YOU?”

“Language, beloved.”

“VYN!” Ah, there it was. He knew she was suppressing those sobs. It was conspicuous she had been pulling back tears the moment Vyn answered the call, the moment she’d heard his voice and confirmed he was alive, although not much well. “I was so, so worried about you… I thought… I thought you were—” she paused to take a light sniff, “dead. The squad is on their way. What happened?”

“I… I cannot tell you right now. I am sorry, dear,” he said, his gaze drifting to his husband who was still snoring in his sleep, and gods did Vyn thought Marius looked ethereal even during his most vulnerable moments. He fucked me so well last night…

“And please, Rosa,” he said, “tell the squad to halt their mission. I am all right—harmed, but I am faring well. And so is my husband.”

“Oh, my god. Mr. von Hagen was a witness?”

“Sort of. I shall tell you all about it when we meet.”

“Which is when, exactly?”

“Tomorrow,” he replied, his fingers running across the bare skin of his chest, wincing at the hurt from where Marius bit him. “You are in charge for now. Make certain the HQ is still up and about,” he said, “you are my second-in-command, so do what you must in my stead. Meet me tomorrow, same place.”

“Oh, uh—tomorrow, you said?”

“Yes. Is something the matter, dear?”

“Er, well…” she trailed, and Vyn’s brow arched in curiosity. He tried to rewind their past conversations, see if she’d mentioned anything she ought to accomplish tomorrow. There was nothing in particular, and Vyn was about to tell her twice until she cleared her throat and answered, “I actually… have a date tomorrow, Vyn.”

Ah. Understandable.

However, “I have taught you of the risks which comes along with our line of work. I hope you do keep your emotions out of your job—”

“What a hypocrite,” Marius muttered beside him. Was this idiot fake-sleeping the whole time?

“Never you mind. I am not against your relationships. I will meet you in two days, then,” Vyn continued—not without glaring at his husband first and foremost in the morning—and added, “but of course, what is this lucky lad’s name? Age, hair colour—”

“Luke Pearce, thirty years old. Coral eyes, chestnut blonde, and very cute.”

“Make certain you put up his records in the office. That aside—please enjoy your date, Rosa.”

Vyn pressed on the end button. He was thinking whether to check up on his husband or do a background check on Luke Pearce first, but he heard another phone call—this time from Marius’ phone—and even though he never truly meant to listen… well, however could he not?

“Hey, Luke?”

Vyn’s ears perked at the sound of his name. Luke.

“Yeah, sure. Wait, you can’t tomorrow?” Marius asked through the phone, his voice getting inaudible as he yawned, “oh, man. Congrats on bagging your first date—oh, wait a minute. Is this girl Rosa you’re going out with?”

“Who is that?” Vyn mouthed to him with those piercing golden eyes. My junior, his husband mouthed back, shrugging his shoulders. It’s not like I can hide it anymore from you.

Well, Luke was not his junior since Luke was older by a few years, but Marius had been an assassin earlier than him. And, well… he was Luke’s boss.

Vyn didn’t need to do a background check. He’d have to pester Marius for it. Just great, what are the odds that their juniors were going on a date?

The first thing Marius did when he ended the phone call was tackle Vyn into a hug, which the older man reciprocated much lovingly (despite his grumpy morning face). He was still scowling, but it was a contrast to the warmth which he gave Marius in return, and the eagerness emanating from him as he pressed closer against Marius’ exposed chest. It wasn’t very soon that Vyn had started nuzzling his face against his husband’s cheeks, like a cat trying to be sweet.

“Vyn.”

“I thought you addressed me as darling or love or baby, but I suppose we—”

“Really, Vyn? This early in the morning?” Marius laughed as he cuddled him more. “You know, I was just gonna ask you something…”

“You want to fuck me again?”

And there it was, that familiar pout and puppy eyes, all too powerful even for Vyn that he knew immediately he wouldn’t be able to deny him. Well, it’s not like he’d decline some more good fucking. “Don’t you want me to?” Marius said, his pout much guilt-enducing now.

But not until Vyn pushed the sheets down until it reached his thighs, revealing his now bulging erection, his sudden craving for Marius. “Whatever are you waiting for?”

“Fuck. You sure know how to—”

Another phone call.

Vyn sighed and took the phone. His eyes widened, only for a fraction of a second, upon seeing the caller ID.

“Please tell me you’ll ignore that.”

“Unfortunately for us—” he slid a finger down the green button, “we cannot decline this one.

“Good morning, Captain Morgan.”

“This is Artem,” came that deep, familiar baritone, and Vyn felt himself shiver from the way Artem sounded in the mornings. The senior lawyer had always been a morning person, but there were times too wherein he was too lazy to get up for work—can you actually believe that?—so Vyn had to do all sorts of things to get him moving. His voice during those moments hadn’t changed at all: deep and husky, almost seductive.

“Artem,” he repeated, and the name seemed to capture Marius’ attention, too. “Good morning. Why are you calling this early in the morning? And why are you using Captain Morgan’s phone?”

There was a sigh at the other end of the line. “Darius forgot to bring his phone,” he answered. “I called to let you know he’s coming, along with his squad. Too many noise complaints last night. They’re going to investigate.”

“Just so you know, Wing—my house is an estate. I am quite certain no one was bound to hear us…” Oh, shit. Marius threw a grenade in my garden.

He shot Marius a glare before he returned, “Tell Captain Morgan to go home.”

“I kept telling him that,” he replied, quite vexed now. “It was supposed to be our day off, Vyn. Our only day off, and you just had to ruin it.”

“It is not my fault you cannot persuade your boyfriend to stay in bed with you.”

“Are we—”

“Hello there, Artem.” Marius had snagged the phone away from Vyn, having felt that impending argument that would probably last hours—he wouldn’t admit that he was only jealous because Artem was Vyn’s only ex-boyfriend, almost husband—and had taken matters into his own hands. “We’ll meet Captain Morgan when he gets here, all right? I’ll tell him to go home, so let’s have peace, yeah? Bye!”

“I could have handled that, Marius,” Vyn spat, but not before Marius hopped out of bed and went to browse through his cabinet. He got himself a clean set of sleepwear in pastel green, Vyn’s most adored colour, and threw the shirt in Vyn’s direction. “Give me the pants as well.”

“No,” said Marius, already in the process of wearing it, “you take the shirt, I take the pants. It’s too long for you, anyway.”

Vyn crossed his legs, folded his arms. “What are you planning?”

“We’re gonna give ‘em a show.”

==

When Vyn opened the front door to their house, he was met with the rather hot welcome of flashing lights, towering video cameras, fully-dressed reporters and papparazzis in all black. He could make out the faint sirens coming from the police cars parked outside the estate, and he only hoped no one was able to round the bend leading to his recently-bombed garden.

“Vyn Richter, is it true there was a shoot-out here last night?”

“Vyn, did you have a quarrel with Mr. von Hagen?”

“Vyn, the people are curious—is divorce on the table yet?”

“Are you and Mr. von Hagen are going to be available in the marriage market again?”

“Vyn, rumors say that you and Mr. von Hagen are involved in matters of Mafia and secret services. Is that true?”

“Vyn, are you pregnant?”

His eyed widened. “I beg your pardon?”

“VYN!”

If he really ought to be true to his role of being a… babygirl who would pretend to be lightheaded or unwell after coming across crazy reporters with no sense of privacy, he would’ve done it after a few more moments or so. However Vyn truly was made unwell by said blinding lights and mad interviewers, and by instinct he pressed a palm against his temple and leaned against the doorframe, suddenly dizzy at the commotion. “Please…”

“Give him space, everyone. Move, move!”

Oh, dear. Thank goodness for Captain Morgan, he thought as Darius practically shoved the reporters out of the way as he reached for Vyn. A strong hand gripped him by the arm, enough to steady his slowly unstable body. “You okay, Richter?”

“von Hagen,” he corrected. “And not quite, Captain.”

“You can hold onto me,” he said, then faced the crowd of reporters again, “stop it with the cameras. If I see another shot I’ll have you all arrested—”

“You better listen to him.” Marius stepped beside Vyn, and in a heartbeat slipped his arm around his huband’s slender waist. Vyn felt his cheeks grow warm at the feeling of Marius’ hand holding him around the waist, in front of all these people—not to mention he was only wearing a green button top and Marius only in his pajamas. Thank god the cameras had stopped—courtesy by Darius who threatened an arrest—because those dark red hickeys and bite marks were clearer than the clearest of blue skies.

This man, Vyn thought as he leaned against Marius’ chest, he really likes to show off, doesn’t he?

He tried to hide a chuckle. It was true Marius loved to show off, but he loved it most when Marius showed him off for everyone to see, for everyone to know who owned him. At this moment, the message was pretty clear. Even the most senseless person would make sense what Marius wanted to say—that Vyn was his, and Marius was Vyn’s. It was written all over the young von Hagen: from the smirk on his lips, the red marks on his exposed chest. The top which covered Vyn’s probably hickey-filled body.

And so Vyn acted the part, pretending to be nauseous as he rested his head against his husband’s shoulder this time, and hooking his arm around Marius’. “I am not feeling very well…”

Marius squeezed his waist gently. “I’ll get you inside,” he said, and Vyn nodded faintly. Marius then turned to Captain Morgan, who was staring at them rather incredulously. It was conspicuous he never wanted to be here, to witness all this—he’d rather spend the day fucking Artem. “Sorry, Cap. I’ll give you a call and help you fix our mess. For now…” he paused and gestured to an exhausted Vyn, “my husband needs rest. You’ll handle this for now, yeah?”

Darius sighed, massaging his temples. “Yes. I’ll also let Artem know.”

“You better go home to him. He was pretty pissed with us this morning.”

“And whose fault is that, Mr. von Hagen?”

“Ehh ~” Marius pouted, but before he could say another word Darius asked, “What am I going to report? There were a lot of noise complaints. Some said it sounded like a grenade.”

“The answer is right in front of you.” Marius winked. “You see, this is what happens when you’re away for work too long. You tend to really, really miss your husband…”

Darius wanted to roll his eyes—no, he wanted to punch Marius. Does this brat really expect me to write ‘very loud, earth-shattering sex’ as the reason for those noise complaints?

Whatever could he do, though? He couldn’t possibly deny the Marius von Hagen of all people. Besides, he was not anointed as the newest NXX member for him to report Marius and Vyn just like that. Fine—he was going to write that unreasonable reason.

Marius seemed to know Darius was not going to deny him, and so the captain was met with the von Hagen’s signature, youthful grin that seemed to say: Hehe, you can’t deny me, can you?

Darius eyed Vyn one more time. He didn’t seem as sick as he appeared, but Darius knew he was indeed exhausted. However he wondered, as he waved the couple goodbye and ordered the reporters and paparazzis to keep out lest they get arrested, how can Richter—er, von Hagen—be this radiant after that violent shoot-out?

The moment Marius closed the door, Vyn muttered:

“Tell Vincent to arrange you an appointment with me,” he said, almost half-moaned, “based on my findings last evening, you need psychiatric help.”

… This hypocrite!

[pinksmonkey]

Update on my anti-Byler bestie

Here's the post if you missed it.

First of all, thank you to everyone who shared their favourite Byler evidence, it made me very happy and it was funny sharing it with my friend.

Now, unfortunately my friend cannot be convinced. I'm autistic and have trouble understanding people's intentions and feelings, so I can't tell if he's being fully serious, half serious, or completely unserious, but to me it seems most like half serious. He's strongly in denial and won't really give me a reason as to why, he just says, "No, not happening."

So there's no getting to him, he believes without a doubt that Byler isn't happening (and said he'll start a riot if it does happen, but Idk if he was serious). And he says he's going to find evidence, but his only proof so far has been, "Nooooo." XD

So I've been dealing with that. It's kind of frustrating because I feel like he's not really listening to anything I'm saying, he just denies everything. And I understand sort of because he actually bet me $50 Byler won't happen in season 5 (I didn't bet anything, he just gets to keep the money if he's right). So he doesn't want to admit defeat to that, which is fair, but it was a stupid bet to make in the first place since he didn't have all the information (the proof for Byler).

Additionally, at lunch today we were talking to a girl who's also in our anxiety support class, and I was talking about Byler stuff (Mike's official playlist songs, the way he looks at Will, their flirty scenes in season 4, Mike using the "we're friends" trope, etc.). She agreed with my friend that Byler isn't a thing and said Mike is so straight.

I can argue with them as much as I want but it gets really frustrating and even kind of annoying that they just don't understand all the evidence. I'm just venting here, so absolutely no hate towards people who don't believe Byler is canon, but as someone who cares so deeply about it, it can make me kind of emotional trying to argue that I'm not delusional.

In the end we agreed to disagree, which is fine and valid and I respect that. But with my friend, it's kind of a big deal, because to me Byler is a big deal. I admit I'm obsessed, Byler has been my biggest special interest since I watched season 4 and found out it was a thing. I can't really help it, I'm just so passionate about it and it gets stuck in my mind. You could say I'm hopelessly devoted to Byler, one of my friends online has even said they think it's unhealthy, but how can something that brings me so much joy be wrong?

Ok this has devolved significantly, but what I'm trying to say in this whole rant/vent thing is that yes, I'm very invested in the relationship between fictional characters, because it's important to me. Representation matters, and even though I'm not a gay man, I still love seeing other groups be represented, especially in a show this popular, with a story this deep. The beauty of Byler's story transcends everything.

So it's frustrating trying to argue for something I care so much about. Byler makes me happy, it motivates me, it inspires me. I'm not going to apologize for loving the things I love and being passionate about my interests. Of course I try to be open minded, respect different opinions, and listen to other points of view. If my friend actually had evidence against Byler, I would listen and respond as constructively and respectfully as I can.

Basically, shipping Byler is valid, and not shipping or even being anti-Byler is valid (unless it's just for homophobic reasons, homophobia is not valid). But I love Byler and it does kind of hurt to have something I care about be adamantly denied and torn apart. And you know, as I'm writing this I'm actually empathizing with Milevens. This doesn't just go for Byler, it goes for all ships (as long as they're not messed up obviously), people should be able to enjoy what they enjoy without others trying to tell them why they're wrong.

There's nothing wrong with analyzing Mileven, talking about why it's unhealthy or not going to be endgame, etc. But that should stay in the proper places, we don't need to constantly remind Milevens that they're ship isn't going to end up together. Just let them be happy, and I'd expect them to do the same for us.

Idk how this turned into talking about Milevens and respecting different ships, but it did somehow. Anyway, back to the point, my friend may be wrong about what will happen in season 5, but his beliefs on it are still valid. I just wish we could talk about it in a way that doesn't make me feel bad about shipping Byler and believing it's endgame. Does that make sense?

This isn't that serious or anything, and take everything I said here as just a random vent/rant, I'm just getting out all my thoughts and feelings, because I need to after all the arguing with people today.

If Byler doesn't happen, I'll be sad, but I know I won't be alone because I have my fellow Bylers, my Byler family and community here. We can all be sad together, and support each other. When I feel bad about something, I like to remember this quote:

That's how I feel about Byler not being endgame.

But on a lighter note, I'm pretty sure Byler will end up together, it just makes sense. So yeah, feel free to share any of your thoughts and feelings about this, I'd love to hear them. :)

I just needed to share some Byler positivity at the end because I'm tired of being surrounded by Byler negativity in my class.

Byler rights forever. 🏳️‍🌈

[tired-lamb]

rating tlg ships for fun

replies/screenshots are from this post

Beshte x Baliyo

10/10. ADORABLE. I can see it and it is also two of my favourite characters together so why the heck not!!! I could also see them becoming best friends too if not romantic partners :D they’d be cute and awesome and lovely

Kion x Rani

5/10. Neutral, honestly. It’s cute and I like the way they go together but there are definitely some ships I prefer over this one for both characters.

Tiifu x Zuri

6/10. Cute! I can see the both of them having a crush on each other but too scared to admit it. Kiara is just there like KISS ALREADY x]

Kiburi x Ushari

7/10. Crack ship for me, but then again I’m new to outlander ships honestly. I don’t exactly see it happening but I *could* be persuaded, yk?

Ma Tembo x Makuu

8/10. NOW THIS. THIS I LIKE. What made them like each other? Are they the oldies that bicker all the time but secretly like each other? Romantic tension? They bicker 24/7 and all the others are like just kiss already? Too good. I can’t see them ever being in a relationship status like bf gf but I can see them being like.. yea we’re definitely Something. They dunno what, but absolutely Something. They have a love hate relationship.

Thurston x Himself

9.5/10. Few points away because I still think his name being Thurston is Weird (/lh), but to each their own. Anyway top tier ship AND it’s canon too! Ah Thurston how we all envy your relationship <3 /silly

Kion x Jasiri

9/10. I see the appeal, plus I think this ship has potential for a lot of outlander pridelander relations and whatnot but I don’t actively ship it. I think it’s . idk. aesthetically pleasing? not sure if I’m using that right. I like to see Jasiri and Kion’s dynamic as older sister younger brother type of dynamic sometimes so that’s there too. no hate to this ship, it’s cute!!

Kion x Baliyo

7/10. GAY LIONS!! I wish we got more of these two in general. I think they’re silly :3. I feel like if there were enough content for this ship I’d ship it. Also the only other gay Kion ships I see are Kion x Bunga and Kion x Janja so this ship is kinda nice in that way. Give Kion his adorable himbo of a boyfriend, you know!!!

Shupavu x Ushari

8/10. Okay now THIS I can say is aesthetically pleasing!!! Is it weird I ship Shupavu x Njano more? Idk. Unfortunately not much content of these characters or the ship in general (apart from your own posts ofc, Nikki) so not much for me to go by :’). I think it’s cool tho :D

Kiburi x Ushari

(already answered)

Shupavu x Njano

10/10. CUTE!! Shupavu and her silly bf. Njano and his girlboss of a gf. I can see them relying on each other a lot when times get tough (esp with Scar.. eugh) and think they’d be an absolute power couple >:). I see their dynamic as Shupavu being more comfortable being herself with Njano and Njano loving all the memories and time they spend together. Njano loving his girlfriend no matter what and Shupavu always finding a safe space in Njano!!!! More content of these two ples :3 /silly.

[otaku-tyriq]

Hi again.....Thanks for answering my ask. Do you mind if I ask your top 5 (or top 10) favorite moments from any anime (can be series or movies)? Sorry if you have already answered this ask before.....

Ohhhh this ask is fun but also pretty hard to answer cuz there are so many anime I love! Anyways: SPOILERS FOR THESE SPECIFIC ANIME UNDER THE CUT: Promare, Trigun Stampede, Classicaloid, Yuuri on Ice, Moriarty the Patriot, Tiger and Bunny, Scott Pilgrim takes off, Vanitas no Carte, Naruto and DGray Man

1) The kiss of life from Promare

This and Galo saving Lio after he had been kidnapped just gives Galo and Lio as a ship major classic disney couple vibes like Sleeping Beauty or Snow White and has essentially sedimented Galolio as one of my favourite ships of all time for the rest of my days.

2) Because I am Vash the Stampede from Trigun Stampede

Literally the moment this entire series had built up towards, the two twins’ ideologies clashing and Vash proclaiming that no matter what he will always love humanity.

3) Every time Schubert says Beethoven Senpai from Classicaloid

It’s just pure comedy gold and cracks me up EVERY TIME!

4) Victuuri Proposal from Yuuri!!! on Ice

I mean…. It’s a canon gay proposal and one of the most influential queer representations in all of Anime. How could I NOT love this???

5) Live Liam from Moriarty the Patriot

I will admit this was a hard choice between the first time Liam and Sherlock meet and the "catch me if you can, Mr. Holmes” scene, but my final decision ended up being this one. Just the build up and Sherlock being too damn stubborn to even think about letting Liam become a Martyr. The speech of talking Liam out of committing suicide for the greater good and that he is not the monster he thinks he is aaaaahhhhhh i love it all. But I love this scene especially because I am a slut for characters jumping of high places to save their loved one.

6) You are not dying, Kotetsu from Tiger & Bunny

Literally the main reason why I ship these two and believe they’re in love. Just beautiful and tragic and Barnaby having learned how to cook Kotetsu’s favourite dish aaawwweeeee.

7) Wallace’s husband from Scott Pilgrim takes off

Is it the best joke in the anime? Nah there are objectively better ones out there. Does this line live rent free in my head regardless? Yes

8) That gay ass Dance Scene from Vanitas no Carte

Gay

Gay

Homosexual

Gay

9) Gaara vs. Rock Lee from Naruto

I had loved Rock Lee since the very moment he had shown up on screen the first time, but this moment right here, especially when he took off those weights, solidified him as my favourite naruto character for eternity. Just this boys unyielding determination to achieve his dream even without being able to use any ninjutsu is remarkable.

10) The Earl plays the 14th melody from Dgray Man

It’s …. Idk how to explain it, to hear a song previously associated with the hero of the show, being played slightly off key by the main antagonist sends chills down my spine.