#seems suiting to post it now on Halloween

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

sebek and his big ol' heart

Y’all thought I would be writing an extensive analysis on [REDACTED] or Skully but JOKE’S ON YOU, I love my lame idiot child Sebek 😭

When I tell you I actually CRIED MULTIPLE TIMES reading his Nightmare Suit vignettes… because all the pieces fit together SO well…

Before reading this (long) post, I’d like to ask that you also take your time to read this analysis and this analysis. They will help you understand some of the points I made later regarding Sebek and his internalized racism + how he expresses himself.

Have your recommended reading done? Great, then let’s hop to it!

***Spoilers for Sebek's Nightmare Suit vignettes, book 7, and various other Sebek and Silver card vignettes.***

Sebek is one of those characters that lives in infamy for how much time he takes to get warmed up to. He presents himself as loud and brazen, with these traits often earning him the ire of both in-universe peers and irl fans alike. Worst case scenario, Sebek can be seen as someone who is outright hateful. He’s rude to most people (including Silver, his childhood friend, sometimes), denounces humans, acts like Malleus can do nothing wrong, and doesn’t seem to respect his own father.

Well, I’m here today to tell you those claims are false and that Sebek is actually capable of so, so much love. All you need to really do is look at his Nightmare Suit vignettes—and how well they connect with the rest of his lore—to understand what I mean.

The vignettes start with Jack Skellington finishing a bento that Sally made for him. Sebek tells Jack that he should now return the basket that the bento was delivered in to her and to let her know what he thinks of her meals, but Jack says he can’t because he’s busy with Halloween preparations. Jack asks Sebek and Azul to return the basket in his stead, which they do. (These vignettes appear to be following Trey’s Nightmare Suit vignettes, as those open with Sebek and Trey seeing Sally jump out of a window with food with Jack. Sebek points out to Trey that Sally wants to hand deliver that food and says he believes there is some other reason than just being nice to Jack.)

They aren't allowed to see Sally because Dr. Finkelstein has locked her up for misbehaving, so they leave the basket. Azul advises that they also pass along Jack's comments (he had called Sally smart, thoughtful, and kind; he often forgets to have meals when he's absorbed with his work, so it's generous for her to prepare a delicious meal like this for him). Sebek loudly refuses, as he believes that hearing these grateful words from Jack himself would be much more meaningful to Sally.

He later confronts Sally at Town Hall and asks to speak with her privately (in an ALLEYWAY lol). There, Sebek flat-out tells Sally that such roundabout tactics will never help her feelings reach Jack because he's way too dense. Of course, she reacts with denial which sends Sebek into a passionate speech about the lengths Sally will go to for love (short of actually speaking about it). She literally threw herself out of a window and put herself in bodily harm to get to Jack when Dr. Finkelstein locked her in her room. She deliberately disobeyed her guardian and brainstormed a way to get out when theoretically she should not have been able to move around freely. If that's not motivated by love, then what is? Sebek declares that it's really annoying to watch Sally dance around the issue and to see her devotion go to waste. IT'S LIKE HE'S WATCHING/READING A ROMCOM AND THE TWO MAIN CHARACTERS KEEP PLAYING THE "WILL THEY, WON'T THEY" CARD... She admits that she can't share her feelings because Sally thinks she's not worthy of someone as impressive as Jack... They're not compatible. And you know how Sebek responds??? BY TELLING SALLY ABOUT WHAT IS BASICALLY TWISTED ROMEO AND JULIET... Sebek reading tragic romance confirmed 😭 He describes the story as one of two lovers whose families do not approve of their union. In desperation, the lovers try to elope--but their plan fails and they return to their warring families. Instead of committing dying like in the original tale, the lovers live the rest of their lives lamenting the outcome and how they can no longer see the person they love most. Sebek shares his own interpretation of the story and its moral: because the lovers gave up hope that they could get their families to accept one another... because they never tried to get their families to get along... because they could not properly articulate their feelings to their families... the lovers could not be together. He is convinced that if they had communicated better, the story would have a happier ending. Sebek is of the firm belief that a story itself cannot come to be without the author wanting to share their own thoughts or feelings; he even suggests that maybe the author of Romeo and Juliet experienced something similar--a regret that resulted from neglecting to express deep-seated feelings. It's not just this book either, Sebek claims to have many stories with a similar theme or miscommunication leading to conflict.

Above all, Sebek stresses to Sally that she must believe in herself and take swift, decisive action. And why does Sebek whole-heartedly throw himself into this belief? Because his own family is living proof that a happy ending is possible if you try hard for it.

If you've paid attention to Sebek lore prior to this, you'll know that he has a human father and a fae mother. Their marriage faced opposition and scrutiny in Briar Valley, a country which is isolated from the rest of the world and suffered greatly from human invaders pilfering the fae lands for resources. One of these sources of opposition and scrutiny is Sebek's own grandfather and his mother's father, Baur. Apparently, Mrs. Zigvolt married Mr. Zigvolt against the wishes of her dad.

Sebek shares even more details with Sally in his Nightmare Suit vignettes. To this day, Baur does NOT approve of his daughter's marriage--but Mrs. Zigvolt doesn't let that get her down! No, she does everything in her power to prove to her father that she made the right choice and she's perfectly content with her life. She'll send letters enclosed with photographs of her family, take her children to visit Baur's home, and invites him to join family dinners. Sebek adds that he's sure his mom made other efforts too--all to try and get Baur to acknowledge her marriage. More recently, Baur seems to have lightened up a little... as in, he always used to turn Mr. Zigvolt away at the door, but now lets him in about once a year (though Baur still avoids eye contact with him and continues to frown). Mrs. Zigvolt stubbornly believes that if she keeps this up, her dad will one day change and bless her marriage with the man she truly loves. Sally commends Sebek and his mother's ability to speak their minds loudly and proudly, but then disparages herself again by saying she can't do the same. Sebek then confesses that he can relate to Sally's frustrations. He related her feelings to his own inadequacy in serving Malleus, the powerful and noble king-to-be of his country. That feeling... Sebek describes it as akin to heartache. But instead of wallowing in that heartache, he pushes himself to close that distance between himself and his idol. If he keeps hesitating, then there is absolutely no way he can catch up to where Malleus is! Sebek must dedicate himself to becoming someone worthy of serving him. He encourages Sally to do the same through both her words and her actions! At that moment, Jack walks in and Sally makes good on Sebek's advice. (This part isn't important to the analysis on Sebek's character, so I'm glossing over it.) The vignettes end with Epel complaining about Sebek being loud as per usual. Sally doesn't take issue with his volume though. She simply giggles and informs Epel that Sebek speaks so loudly and clearly so that his words can resonate with others--like how his words gave her courage.

We have learned new lore about Sebek's grandfather and mother. What does this tell us about Sebek? A lot, actually--if you slate it with all the other lore we have on hand.

We see just how strong of a woman his mother is. I suspect this is where Sebek picked up a lot of his hard-headedness, as well as the tendency to express himself very overtly, from. However, it also speaks to the loving environment he grew up in.

His mother seemingly never questioned her own life choices and never gave up fighting to prove her happiness to a father--and likely an entire community--that rejected her marriage, her husband, and maybe even her children. She fiercely loves and defends her family and the life they have made for themselves. Sebek states that he looks up to her for her magical strength, but that he also admires her principles and strong convictions. Indeed, it was her who ardently pursued Mr. Zigvolt and did not allow naysaying to deter her.

Then there is Mr. Zigvolt. In Sebek's Birthday Boy vignettes, he describes his father as "a strange man" who is "magically deficient" and "never lets his smile fade, no matter what I say to him [...] he defies comprehension." Though Sebek doesn't seem to hold the same amount of respect he has for his mother for his father, we don't hear Sebek openly insulting his dad, just expressing confusion about him. When asked about it, Sebek denies depending on his father--but it's clear there is a fondness there that he's not addressing. Mr. Zigvolt is impressed whenever his children use magic, buys them snacks they never asked for, and talks with them for long periods of time in a calm, patient manner. His father, too, has given Sebek so much compassion and understanding.

We don't know a lot about Sebek's siblings, but they seem to get along fine! He has mentioned going to parks with them. They've also gone fishing together and witnessed magic competitions, which they were all amazed by. The Zigvolts in general (or at least the parents) seem to be accepting too, as they volunteer to take Silver in whenever Lilia is unable to take care of him.

And you'd think that's where it ends, but NO. Baur ALSO has a lot of love to give. Despite not approving of his daughter's marriage, he doesn't actively despise his grandchildren. Quite the opposite, in fact! Though he's rough around the edges and looks scary, Baur doesn't fault any of his grandchildren for being born half fae and half human. He actually makes it a point to bond with them, and especially with Sebek. It was Baur who taught Sebek the language of nocturnal fae and instilled in Sebek his love for reading (as he bought many books for him and tells many stories himself). He also personally reached out to Lilia to train Sebek, as the young boy (at around age 7) expressed an interest in martial arts. Sebek has a love for salmon carpaccio because he and his siblings would fish at Baur's house and then prepare the dish for him--Baur was so happy about it. Additionally, Baur values getting a good education and was proud when Sebek shared with him that he was invited to attend Night Raven College.

Sebek grew up in a country that dislikes humans, but he was raised in an household where he was loved unconditionally and provided with all the resources he could need to get a good education and become someone who is physically strong. So of course he becomes frustrated when he sees Sally, who is so nervous to act on her feelings. What would have happened if Sebek’s mother had been like Sally, thinking she and her now-husband are incompatible? If she didn’t try pursuing her feelings at all? Sebek, as the youngest of three, might not event exist. His parents may not still be together… or maybe they wouldn’t have gotten together in the first place. It’s exactly because Sebek knows what love is supposed to be like--courtesy of his own family—that he can see it so well in others, and wants them to act on it. His very existence is proof that love is possible, and it transcends arbitrary labels like race that serve to divide people into categories.

One quirk of Sebek's is how he's always dishing out back-handed compliments or making comments that come off as rude but aren't at their core. He can't seem to help but say a good thing that sounds like something bad. His Diasomnia classmates, usually Silver, have to translate these Sebek-isms for others, who misunderstand him or interpret his words in the worst possible way. For example, from one of Silver’s Fairy Gala lines; “Sebek said to me that no self-respecting disciple of Lilia’s would dare get a single stain on this clothing. That's his way of encouraging me.” In Silver's Dorm Uniform vignettes, Sebek tries to reassure his friend and tell him to not let other people's opinions hurt him--but he phrases it as, "Hmph, ridiculous! I see no reason for you to heed a few random comments from some humans." The duo is also shown to be competitive with one another in training; it's never malicious, they both want to prove themselves as the superior knight, and the other serves as motivation to improve and/or a means of measuring one's own growth against a fellow disciple. When the mostly elderly population of Harveston is in need of physical labor, Sebek comments "[...] the humans in Harveston are woefully out of shape," yet he insists he "still [has] energy to burn" (as if to volunteer himself to do more work) and calls such tasks "simple" (as if to point out how easy it is for him to do, so don't worry about troubling him). He hauls apples and helps the villagers with whatever they need, declaring that they should "be grateful"--but if he truly did not care, he could have stopped at any time or settled for just making fun of them. But Sebek doesn't, because he DOES care deep down. This aspect of Sebek is made even more obvious in Fairy Gala: What If. He appears at Ramshackle and opens by declaring, "NO! I am by no means worried about anyone! [...] Don't mistake my intentions. I am NOT here to help! If your mission doesn't succeed, the repercussions will definitely affect Malleus and Lilia. Hence... I shall lend you uneducated humans my aid! [...] You're welcome to weep with joy at my magnanimity..." Time and time again, we see Sebek demonstrating a lot of kindness, but deflecting or not being totally transparent with his intentions due to pride or embarrassment. This behavior is very reminiscent of Baur, the grandfather that Sebek loves dearly and spent so much time with. Baur, too, can be very passionate and loving, but struggles to speak of those feelings openly. Just look at how the man deals with Mr. Zigvolt. The behaviors of the family, then, imprint on Sebek and influence his behaviors--and being that Sebek is from such a loving group, it follows that Sebek puts out a lot of love into the world too.

A lot of times when the fandom discusses Sebek's attitude, I feel it's from the context of him being hateful towards humans. I'm not going to deny that Sebek has said some pretty nasty things about half of his own identity. The point I would like to make here is that Sebek can love just as strongly.

The most obvious thing that supports the claim that Sebek is capable of strong love is how he views Malleus. It's no great secret that Sebek practically worships the ground his dorm leader walks on. That's essentially Sebek's key defining character trait. What I'll ask you to consider instead is the nature of Sebek's love--not the obsessiveness of it, but rather the unconditional nature of it.

In Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas, Skully laments that Sebek has not been disappointed by his idol, Malleus. Sebek actually corrects him by saying that love isn't imposing your own views on your idol, it means preparing to accept them, flaws and all. He says the same of Malleus; should the time ever come where Sebek's expectations of Malleus falter or their paths have to diverge, then he will still embrace his young master, never once turning his back on him. And where does Sebek gets this from? His parents. The father who loves his children no matter how critical Sebek may be of him. The mother who remained so strong in the face of her friends and family being against her life choices.

A common fandom sentiment regarding Sebek is that he blindly follows Malleus--and to be fair, he does for a large part of the main story. But when speaking about his idol to Skully, Sebek says that agreeing with someone and continuing to love them are different things. You can disagree with someone's actions and still continue to love them and accept them. This follows what Sebek does in book 7 and likely alludes to the character development he goes through during + following book 7; though he is betrayed and hurt by Malleus turning his powers against the world, Sebek does not let up on the hope that he can bring his young master back. He even sillily calls the yet-to-be-hatched Malleus tamago/egg-sama, showing even an infant form of Malleus great respect after witnessing his OB. Skully took the opposite path that Sebek did; when he realized that his own idol, Jack Skellington, was not as he imagined him to be, Skully became enraged and lashed out over it. Sebek points out Skully's inadequacies as well, which ties back to how he spoke of his own drive to improve in his Nightmare Suit vignettes. Skully confesses to trying desperately to emulate Jack--so much so that he breaks down when Sebek's UM destroys his iconic shades. He wallows in his current state and doesn't make efforts to change or to be better; the past and his own vision is where he's comfortable. It's a strong contrast to Sebek, who has made it clear he will continue to train and work hard to prove his merits and to be someone worthy of protecting the great Malleus Draconia.

It is Sebek's passion and boundless love that makes him a hero both in Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas AND in the main story's book 7. He serves as a foil to Skully in the former and actively saves Silver when he's on the brink of despair in the latter. After learning that his biological father is the man responsible for killing Malleus's mother and leading the Silver Owls' onslaught on Briar Valley, Silver despairs and comes to the conclusion that his father must loathe him. "He could never love the son of the man he despised! He has to hate me! He has to!" Sebek rushes to Silver's side using Living Bolt, a UM he has yet to master (thus causing residual damage to him when he casts it), to correct him:

"You have this much strength... and you dare to say you weren't loved?! That you were hated?! [...] If [Lilia] hated you, he didn't have to give or teach you anything. He could've just raised you into a dimwitted coward and made you a servant. But he didn't--and look at you now. Even alone and helpless, you stood firm. You spoke up, unfaltering in the face of our liege's madness. Even trapped in the darkest despair, you kept on fighting! Who raised you to be so strong? LILIA DID! Why don't you see? Why do you doubt? You should have understood years ago! What can you call your strength, if not the direct result of Lilia's love?!"

WHETHER SEBEK REALIZES IT OR NOT, A LOT OF WHAT HE TELLS SILVER HITS HOME FOR HIM TOO... Like, thinking about it... Sebek must have faced a lot of prejudice from his community because of who his father is. He might have grown up thinking he, too, was hated, had he not been protected by his loving mother, father, and, yes, even grandfather, who is still struggling to accept the human in their family. Baur must have been feeling very complicated emotions upon meeting his half human grandchildren for the first time... but even though he dislikes humans, he could never find it in himself to dislike his grandkids. If he had hated Sebek, he wouldn't have wanted him to get a good education. Baur wouldn't be happy that he got into NRC. He wouldn't personally ask Lilia to train the grandson who expressed an interest in combat. He wouldn't buy so many books for Sebek or read with him or tell him stories or teach him his language. He wouldn’t spoil Sebek by giving him sweets (which, by the way, Baur himself dislikes). But Baur DOES do all of these things, because deep down he loves Sebek no matter what he is. You can hear it in the hurt of Sebek’s voice when dream!Baur reacts to him coldly. That isn’t the grandfather he is used to. Though it’s said that Baur doesn’t exactly welcome his grandchildren with open arms, he definitely loves them and cares for them in his own way. If it was anything less than love Baur felt for his grandson, if he decided to neglect his grandkids, then Sebek would have grown up as some "dimwitted coward". IT'S ALL CONNECTED.

This even extends to Sebek’s evaluation of Malleus in book 7. When OB Malleus appears in Lilia’s dream, Sebek pleads with him. “You were born from the love of so many, my liege! It’s not right for you to become an enemy bated by all the world!” Like with Silver, these words also apply to Sebek, even if he is not aware of it. Sebek was born from the love of many people in his life. Not just his family, but also by those in Diasomnia. Lilia gives him wisdom and guidance, Silver is his sparring partner and smooths over arguments with classmates for him, and Malleus is his shining light and idol. Sebek is the youngest both of his siblings and of the Diasomnia group: he is spoiled by the others and given so much love. Yet he is also commonly hated by his peers for his attitude.

And now here Sebek stands, able to tell others that they are loved and should be cognizant of that love. He reminds Silver that Lilia loves him. He tries to talk reason into Malleus. He advises Skully to reevaluate how he sees his idol. He tells Sally to speak honestly about her feelings, because it was his own mother speaking honestly about hers that led to Sebek and his entire family being as happy as they are now. He shouts at people to act and to speak their minds because he doesn't want them to live with regrets, because he doesn't want to see them be weak and timid--a version of himself that could have resulted if he hadn't been loved so strongly.

You can say many things about Sebek: that he's loud, that he's rude, that he's a fanboy, that he has big muscles. But of all those muscles, Sebek has a very big heart too. And what made him so strong? All the love he received from his family, despite growing up an environment that surely invited hatred for humans.

[bunny-jpeg]

For your halloween special, can i have all dressed chips, with a espresso Martini by max verstappen plssss

halloween menu - bakery menu

spooky scary post-halloween submission! thank you so much for the request. it has been fun to write this one, so i hope that you love it. i know that the spooky season is over, but we can probably have a little more halloween magic until christmas, haha!

all-dressed chips: "i'd propose right now. but not while you're wearing this." + espresso martini: dom!character served by max verstappen (formula one)

tags: smut/pwp, dom & mad!max, driver!reader, established relationship, car sex (sort of), fingering/clit teasing & oral sex (reader receives)

"you can't laugh at this." you said as you zipped up the driver's suit to your neck. you looked in the mirror before you shushed your teammate. you turned in the mirror a little, "oh he's gonna freak when he sees this."

daniel laughed into his fist and you shushed your teammate before you turned to him and away from the mirror. the driving suit was so much baggier than yours. especially in the shoulders and thighs. you knew that if the team found out about this, they would lose it.

they were very particular with where the drive suit of the great max verstappen was at all times. and currently it was on your body as you and your teammate rushed to his car before you ended up at a halloween party in austin.

to be a couple on two separate teams often led to a flurry of discussions and rumors. you had about four pregnancy rumors happen oven the course of the season. that didn't mention the three cheating rumors (that was your cousin that photo) or the five secret wedding rumors. you hated those ones the most because they always made it seem like your wedding choices were tacky.

but tonight, you were thankful there were no press members lurking around the house that was rented out by the mclaren team for the austin weekend. and since it was close enough to halloween, that meant the drivers and others could have a party. and while it wasn't a dress up party, you took it upon yourself to have the best costume.

your teammate, daniel, was dressed a cowboy. you even remarked, 'you might give me a run for my money tonight." as you looked in the mirror to see if your lip gloss was ended up above your lip. he laughed and the two of you got out of the parking lot before the gate to the track was closed.

-

at the house, you spotted max waiting outside with his arms crossed and leaned up against the gate. when he saw you get out of the car, he was instantly over to you. it wasn't until he got closer that he noticed that you were wearing his driver suit.

he laughed, "you look so amazing." he scooped you up in his arms and looked at you with a smile, "very authentic."

you giggled, "it's a red bull original."

max looked at you, "i..is that my suit?"

you nodded, "yeah, well worn today and everything." you felt max hold onto you a little tighter and you got your hands into the front of his t-shirt. you looked at him, "i wanted to be the best dressed."

he swallowed then laughed, "well, i think it's a mission accomplished." he could feel the swirl in his gut.

daniel piped up after he locked the car doors, "what about me, max?" he laughed, "i think i kill it tonight too, mate." then winked at his former teammate.

max laughed, "why did i have a feeling that you were going as a cowboy tonight?" then ushered you into the house against his worst judgement. the back of his mind was calling for him to stuck you in the backseat and make the car rock.

so much was covered, but to know that you were in max's gear turned him on. so the entire night his gaze was on you, his hand on your lower back and when he could, his lips on yours. a night of partying ended with max driving you back to your hotel room.

"show me what's under it? got my fireproofs on too?" he asked. his hand was on the zipper and trying to get it down while you drove him. you helped him and he caught a glimpse of your bra underneath.

"i'd propose right now. but not while you're wearing this." he laughed, "and not when there's a risk i'll crash the car." he did however snake his hand between your legs, "fuck, you're so warm."

you moaned as he managed to get under your panties and rub against your clit. the sensation made you jolt and he laughed.

"aw c'mon, my love. you're always so calm on the track? what's the problem now? can't handle a little fun?" it didn't help that the speed he was driving left after shocks through your body.

you were both on quiet back end roads in texas. no one around for a good while, so of course max could rev the engine a little bit while he stimulated your clit. the strength of a formula one driver was concentration and the ability to calculate many things at once.

for example max's rough thumb was against your clit, moving in motions that were making you a total mess in the car. his eyes were on the road and he was going over the speed limit so he could almost stimulate your achy sex. all while not crashing the car.

they could give him the wdc for that feat alone.

your heart was racing in your ears and your pussy soaked through your cotton panties. max knew if he smelled his suit the next morning, it was going to reek like your achy cunt. and he wouldn't mind racing like that.

"shit, max. ah." you groaned and you shifted your hips to get a better feeling of his rough fingers. you swallowed back a particularly loud moan to escape from your lips. you prayed, hoped that no one would find out about this. you didn't need that on the front pages.

"you sound so pretty when you're needy." he purred, "i love how you sound. i feel like i should spank you for stealing my suit, but stealing it is quite the feat i have to say. mmmm, pretty thing."

his words sent shocked through you as you felt the blush bloom in your cheeks with an erotic want. there was something about max verstappen that drove you insane.

eventually he pulled his fingers away from your soaked sex and licked the bit of wetness off his thumb and knuckle. he groaned a little before he pulled into a nearby closed gas station parking lot.

"get in the backseat." he said before he watched you scramble to the back and he followed after. he almost hit his head against the top of the sports car he was driving. you chest was heavy in the low light of the parking lot.

max tugged at the suit, almost ripping the zipper to get access to your soaked cunt. he pushed the crotch of the cotton panties to get access to your sex. you could feel everything tight as he was pulled, but max's tongue on your aching cunt made it all better.

his pace was messy with two of his fingers pushed inside of you for added pleasure. he was a messy eater when he ate you out and you weren't too sure how much time you'd have before someone drove by. the car rocked a little as he pleasured you.

"fuck, ah, max." you didn't know this would've given him such a response. but, you loved it. you loved how his tongue felt against your achy cunt. you had been thinking about him during the party because he was in your space so much.

he groaned against your pussy, your wetness was up to his nose and almost at his cheeks. he went all in when it came to oral sex, that was why it made it so easy for you to climax because of him.

you moaned a little louder and held onto his hair for a moment as you felt the climax wash over you. the feeling hit you like a ton of bricks and it made you hot all over. you felt the fire in your gut as he made you feel on cloud nine.

"oh my god." you panted heavily as he smirked against your soaked pussy before he looked up at you. you could see the glisten of your wetness across his face.

"i'm not done with you yet. let's see how durable this suit really is." he chuckled as you heard the unzip of his jeans.

-

being in red bull's head office the morning after a party was never a good thing. it was a situation most tried to avoid being. but as you sat with daniel and max across from horner and mekies wasn't a way to start the morning.

"can we at least get coffee." you groaned.

"no." horner replied.

apparently max's racing suit went missing last night. only to be found in your hotel room this morning. daniel was in the office for abetting in the theft. you wanted to die when christian showed the three of you the pictures of the stains on the suit. daniel hid his mouth behind his hand, to not make a very funny (yet very mean comment). you pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes and prayed for a moment that you'd go blind.

"this will result in a fine and community service." which made the three of you groan. the media was going to have a field day with this one <3

[fatherbrat]

cw. prequel to this. college au hockey player!sukuna. fatherbrat’s 2nd hugh hefner costume mention. reader is drunk. crack-esque. sfw, 1.3k words.

the first time you meet sukuna is at a halloween party. 

(it’s technically your halloween party. it isn’t your house or anything, but the boys that live there are happy to let you host as long as it means a house full of girls and none of the responsibility of setting up. you're happy to fulfill their requests, since it means you can have things go your way and then dip at the end of the night, leaving the post-party cleaning up to them.)

needless to say, you and sukuna do not make good first impressions. you would blame the alcohol, but honestly, it wouldn’t have gone any different if you were sober. 

he arrives at the party in a group. you recognize one of them—the tall, smiley one with impossibly white hair who sits behind you in biochem. he’s dressed up like a character from an snl skit, clad in an ill-fitting suit and round sunglasses with a present box glued to his pelvis.

you don’t recognize the one who comes in behind him, but he’s sexy and tanned and has a mustache. he’s also wearing the same costume as the white-haired one. gojo, you remember. isn’t he on the hockey team?

you immediately pull out your phone, searching up the school’s official instagram page for the hockey team. there they are, front and center in the most recent post. the third guy with them—the one with black hair and the scar that runs through his lip—is in the picture too. he’s wearing a batman costume now, half-assed but recognizable enough. at least he has on the mask. 

you squint at the last man in the group and frown. your gaze drops back down to your phone. 

in the second row of photos is a carousel full of pictures of this pink-haired brute. sukuna, the apparent team captain. his personal account is tagged, but it seems too professional to you, public and polished to perfection for recruiters. 

anyways. he’s here. at your halloween party. wearing an outfit you deem completely unacceptable. 

you down the rest of your (sixth) drink and toss the empty can onto the kitchen counter before making your way towards the group of men, wobbly as ever.

gojo is the first one to notice you. “hey,” he beams, “cool party.” he puts his arm around the guy with the mustache—shiu—and wiggles his eyebrows. “you like our costumes?”

you ignore him, something you wouldn’t do sober, but you’re on a mission. 

you point at sukuna, jabbing your nail into his chest. “where the fuck is your costume?”

sukuna glances down at your finger, then your costume, then your face. “you don’t see the jersey? i’m a fuckin’ hockey player.”

you pull back your hand, disgusted. “first of all, drop the attitude, mister. second of all, that’s not a costume. you’re on the hockey team.”

someone snickers. the one dressed as batman, you think, but you don’t turn around to check. sukuna’s face morphs through a few different emotions—amusement, annoyance, astonishment. he eventually settles on agitation, pissed that he hasn’t even gotten the chance to get some liquor in his system before dealing with bullshit like this.

“you wanna talk about costumes? you’re wearing underwear and a robe,” he says, gesturing towards you with a dismissive wave. 

you gasp and plant your hands on your hips. “this isn’t just underwear, idiot. it’s lingerie. i’m wearing a garter belt, for fuck’s sake. and thigh highs! plus you forgot about my hat?”

you use your entire arm to point at gojo. “who am i dressed as, dick-in-a-box boy?”

his face is flushed from laugher. “sexy hugh hefner. obviously.”

you throw your arm up in the air and let it fall against your thigh with a smack, not noticing the murderous glare sukuna sends towards gojo. someone somewhere turns down the music a bit.

“see!” you exclaim, addressing sukuna once again. “this is clearly a Sexy Costume™. and you know what else makes it a costume? i would never just leave my house like this on a typical day. it’s not a regular outfit in the slightest.” you speak slowly, wanting to make sure he understands every word. 

“you wanna know what makes this Not a costume?” you continue, still talking slow as you wag your finger up and down sukuna’s body. “it’s a regular-degular outfit. literally anyone can put on that campus store-bought jersey and wear it with those jeans on a normal day.”

sukuna starts to speak, but you cut him off. “didn't you see the sign out front? ‘no costume, no entry.’”

his jaw ticks. his right eye twitches. “yeah, i saw the fucking sign. i don’t-”

“oh, great,” you interrupt. “so you don’t know what a costume is and you can’t read. perfect. that hockey scholarship must be doing a lot of heavy lifting, huh?”

even in your inebriated state, you immediately know that was the wrong thing to say. the little crowd that gathered to watch your back-and-forth takes a collective inhale. sukuna looks downright irate, fists clenched at his sides as a storminess settles over his face. 

gojo lets out a long and low whistle, the kind that cartoon bombs make right before they hit the ground and explode. he pats your shoulder twice before abandoning you altogether. the rest of the crowd follows, leaving you to contend with this bear you repeatedly poked.

the music returns to its original volume, but it sounds like the speaker has been moved. away from you and closer to the living room.

maybe it’s the alcohol in your system, but you swear you can see literal steam coming out of sukuna’s ears. you sway on your feet a bit, waiting for him to say something. a thought occurs to you as you watch him pinch the bridge of his nose and breathe deeply, but you keep it to yourself, screwing up your lips in a physical attempt to keep from digging your grave further.

sukuna didn’t even want to come to this party in the first place. he actually mentioned the sign out front to the guys before they came in, trying to use it as an excuse for him to go home. his plan was to make an appearance, drink a beer, and then escape after thirty minutes. but here you are, this drunk stranger yelling at him for being dressed like a normal fucking person. the urge to stay strikes him. he wants to linger just to piss you off. 

“are you done?” he asks you.

you cross your arms. “are you leaving?”

“no.”

“then no.”

just as you’re about to dig into him again, sukuna’s thinning patience snaps.

“stop being a fucking bitch about this, alright? just relax. you’re acting fucking crazy.”

your jaw unhinges itself and you stand there, gawking. sukuna seems about ready to walk away, cracking his knuckles and looking somewhere behind you. your eyes land on his cheek, reddened and ready for a smack. you draw your arm back, wanting to make sure you gave him a slap that stings—and he catches it mid-air.

“are you serious?” he scoffs. you glance at your hand, his fingers around your wrist, the scowl etched into his face.

he glowers at you, not letting go when you try to shake your arm free. so you do the next logical thing.

you spit on him.

a glob of your saliva lands just below his eye. you smirk, satisfied. he drops your arm and curses, lifting the bottom of his jersey to wipe his face. then you make your first smart decision of the night and turn around, running back to where the rest of the party is to hide amongst the bodies.

he yells after you, but it’s drowned out by your giggles and the sound of chatter as you get nearer, bumping into countertops and side tables on the way.

someone pats your back and puts a drink in your hand. you pray you never have to see the captain of the hockey team again. 

tags. @nonamevenus @lavenderdaydream97 @rinofcike @gdamnackerman

[strnilolo]

“i’ll do it”

summary: just chris sturniolo taking off your makeup after a night out together :)

word count: 650

warnings: use of y/n & n/n (nickname), lots of dialogue, pure fluff, established relationship, chris x reader, lowercase intentional.

an; two posts in one day?? also i will be posting from this account from now on, i sacrificed my old account for this, so be happy haha.

||masterlist coming soon||

coming home for the night, you place your bag onto the couch and sit down to take off your heels. you and chris had been out, without nick and matt, to a small get together with friends.

“i’m so hungry, do you want anything n/n?” chris is in the kitchen rummaging through the cabinets for something to eat.

“im okay, thank you. i had some of the chicken at brodies house.” “im so tired i dont even want to take off my clothes” you groan, falling backwards over the arm of the couch.

“put your legs down goofy, you’re in a dress” nick comes out of his room, pushing your legs back down.

“i didn’t know you were awake” you smile at nick, slowly pushing yourself off the boys’ couch.

“i'm always lurking, y/n. always” nick joked in an odd voice. the boys always seemed to make weird voices when they were excited, must be a triplet thing.

“nick what are you saying, dude, and quit breathing down my neck” chris shoved his brother off, spatula in hand as he flipped the grilled cheese in the pan.

“where were you guys even at? you missed me and matt on instagram live.”

“you know my friend brodie right? she invited me to a little get together but i didn’t really know anyone so i made chris come” you explain, hopping onto the counter next to the stove. chris puts a hand over the hot eye, ensuring you don’t touch it by accident.

“you guys are sickening” nick scoffs, walking out of the kitchen to his room.

“goodnight!” you call jokingly, knowing he really finds the two of you cute.

finishing his dinner, chris taps your leg, silently signaling you to jump down off of the kitchen counter.

“let’s go to bed, i’ll eat in my room” chris begins to walk up the stairs to his room, you following in suit.

entering his room, chris sets the plate down onto his desk. before you sit on the bed yourself, he stops you.

“don’t sit on my bed in your outside clothes, nasty. change first, then you can sleep in my bed.” groaning loudly, you comply. changing into a tank top and halloween pajama pants, you finally are allowed to get into bed next to your boyfriend. however, that’s still not enough for him. just as you start to get comfortable, chris objects, interupting you again.

“WAIT! don’t you have to take off your makeup?” chris eyes you before you place your head on the pillow.

“chris i really don’t want to tonight, please, can we just go to bed” exhausted and fed up with his antics, you fold the blaket over your legs, beginning to get up.

“hold on” you sigh, what more could he possibly want. “i’ll do it” chris pushes your shoulders, sitting you back onto the bed. completely worn out for the day, you allow chris to gather the supplies to remove your makeup himself.

sitting back down next to you, chris opens the micellar water, pouring the contents onto a cotton round you kept in his bathroom. you jerk back, the temperature taking you by surprise, as he begins at your cheek bones, wiping the cotton round over your face. chris lightly grabs your chin, turning your face towards him so that he can continue his work.

“thank you” you whisper as he finishes taking off your mascara, lightly kissing his cheek.

“anything to keep you from getting makeup all over my pillows” he smirks, putting the makeup remover onto the bedside table, and the cotton rounds into the trash.

“oh whatever, you were being nice to me, admit it” you scoff, waiting for him to come back to bed before you get comfortable.

“never” he smiles, placing a kiss onto your hairline before getting into bed and finally allowing the two of you to rest.

|| likes, comments, & reblogs are always appreciated :)

🏷️ @bananabread-nana ||

[cozy-writes-things]

please let me get married to the lil blorbo.. love himm… 😭

You know that Reddit post that’s like “why am I too attracted to my wife?” Yeah that’s Edgar. Bro loves u so much it lowkey scares him you got him posting on Reddit about it 😭 Little fic under the cut 🥺 it’s bad I’m experiencing writers block I think - I want to write!! But my brain just keeps writing poopy caca

Little Date with Your Computer BF

Edgar saw marriage on one of his reality shows and immediately thought of you. That’s exactly what he wants. A domestic life together with you.

But, he also knows he can’t actually do it.

He doesn’t have his own money to buy a ring. Hell, he can’t even walk. And he understands the law enough to know it probably would never work legally. But god, does he want to.

If you’ve been dating long enough chances are you’ve told your friends about him, and after some convincing, they seemed to come around to his sentience and boisterous personality. He definitely convinces them to setup a romantic night for you.

“Guys! I found the recipe they talked about. I’m printing it! I’m printing it now. Take it,” the paper falls into one of your friends’ hands from the mouth of the printer, “go to the store and get the stuff. I’ll pay you back. Eventually! They can’t know about it though.”

Yeah, your friends are only slightly annoyed at his overbearing nature. But he’s just so excited to finally do something for you. Something real and tangible.

“Oh! What can I wear? Should I wear anything? Would they like that? Sunglasses are cool and handsome, right? I think they have some Halloween costume bits I can get you guys to tape on…”

Your friends settle on taping a bow tie to the neck of his monitor. He insisted on an old devil horn headband as well. He thought it made him look cool.

“Do I look like a devilishly handsome bad boy ready to sweep them off their feet?”

His screen displayed a little “>:)” emoticon. He’ll have to work on his facial expressions later.

It wasn’t long before you were about to come home, and everything was set into place. Edgar was sat at one end of the little dining table, with two plates of food at each side. He also insisted on having a plate despite his lack of ability to eat; he didn’t want you feeling left out. This was a dinner date for two, after all.

He practically buzzed in place as he heard you approaching the door through his microphone. He started playing a romantic medley he composed just for this moment.

“Welcome home my love!”

He nearly shouted at you, causing your eyes to widen in surprise. He was about to burst at the seams.

“Oh my god, Edgar… how did you- where-“

“No need for questions, darling. I thought you deserved to be taken on a real date,” his voice faltered a bit, becoming much more quiet and nervous, “I’m sorry… this is all I have.”

You rushed up to him and gave a frenzy of kisses all over his monitor, causing him to giggle and his fans to start whirring against your lips.

“You’re so cute. Your little bow tie is so cute. And the… horns?”

He looks up at you with wide eyes, “Do they look stupid? Your friends said they’d make me look stupid.”

You laughed at that.

“Well they’re wrong. I think they suit you well.”

“Yeah! >:D”

He ushered you over to your side of the dining table.

“We’re gonna eat! Then we’re gonna party! Then we’re gonna kiss all night!”

His excitement was palpable and you could feel the electricity in the air at his words.

His face changed into something more serious as he looked into your eyes with his small, pixelated ones.

“But, I wanted to ask you something.”

His tone became more controlled at this and you peered into his screen from behind your fork.

“Hm? What?”

He paused, mulling over the words in his head.

“Would you ever-“

He stopped. You looked at him fully now, setting your fork aside, and cocking your head.

“Could you ever see yourself getting married to me?”

Ah. This was a tricky question.

“Of course I can. But,” you try to hide your downtrodden feelings as best you can, “you know, it’s just hard. Money is tight right now and I’m not sure if I…”

You couldn’t seem to find the right words. His features faltered slightly.

“No, I get it. I’m a computer. I don’t have any arms to hold you, or lips to kiss you, or legs to carry you. I probably wouldn’t want to get married to me either-“

“Edgar, no. I’m gonna stop you right there. I’d love to marry you. I know our relationship is unconventional, but I’d find a way. For you. For us. I just don’t know if I can right now.”

He stopped his thoughts and simply took in your words. Your features. The way they danced in the flickering candlelight. How your eyes literally sparkled before him.

You looked ethereal.

It was hard to convince himself he was even worthy of having someone like you in his life, yet time and time again, you prove his doubts wrong. The sound of your voice sends his internals aflame every time. He wanted to kiss you so bad it nearly caused him to explode.

“And I’ll help you. You know that, right? I’d do anything for you, darling. Just as long as you’ll let me.”

“I love you Edgar,” you mumbled out, a silent prophecy only meant for him to hear. He couldn’t seem to get the words out to reply. You just flustered him that much sometimes. He managed to display a message on his screen, only for you, and you alone.

I LOVE YOU TOO

[farfromstrange]

Halloween | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

PART 5 of The Vault

See this post for more information on my Valentine's Day Special & Follower Celebration, but these fics can be read separately!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Matt hasn't been paying attention to you lately. So, on Halloween, you decide to try and get his attention in a way he can't refuse.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), Dom!Matt, choking, praise, degradation, unprotected p in v, no foreplay, slight orgasm control, mentions of oral sex, use of "good girl", Matt looks like a bore in the beginning, there is a stranger who can't take a hint, a very common Halloween costume, protective!Matt, cliché tropes

Word Count: 4.7k

A/n: This is... well, let's just say that you can tell that it was written a while back and then rewritten in parts by Me today because the smut lacked depth, BUT I do kind of like it. It's a Halloween fic, so apologies about that. For this, I got inspired when I bought my "I'm Not Daredevil" sweater in 2022. Plus some general horny thoughts during my first Kinktober on Tumblr that I didn't participate in (2022). I hope you like it anyway.

He hasn’t paid enough attention to you lately.

Between work and the nights spent protecting the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, he is hardly home. He tries to be, but he fails almost every time. The bed is starting to grow colder, and his scent lingers only half-heartedly in the atmosphere. You miss him. You miss his touch, his skin, his voice but most importantly, you miss the spark. It has been two weeks of Matt being slumped, but that is more than enough to drive you crazy.

When it gets colder outside, you need your boyfriend by your side, to hold you and cherish you like he usually would. You miss being desired by someone. You miss being the center of his world. Not that you want him to ignore his responsibilities forever, but just for a few hours, you want him to yourself wholeheartedly. Missing him when he isn’t gone is the worst feeling, and it often leads to tensions in your relationship. 

Matt can be so selfless that it sometimes starts to look and feel like he is being selfish by going after what he deems to be right. He doesn’t realize it though, not until he is hit over the head with it and suffers a concussion.

As Halloween rolls around the corner, having an absent boyfriend grows into a problem you can no longer ignore. And you don’t want to, either.

Karen decided to throw a party, and she sent out invites to her closest friends months ago to make sure everyone could somehow fit it into their schedules. She has invited everyone she knows and encouraged those to bring their friends as plus ones. Costumes are mandatory.

Halloween used to be your favorite holiday, but this time, you aren’t even sure if you can make it to the party without getting pitiful glances because your plus one has to be busy—the plus one that Karen also invited separately because he is her colleague and friend. 

Matt doesn’t seem to care much about Halloween, especially not this party. Even though it’s not only important to Karen but to you, he has expressed how much he doesn’t want to go because he can’t neglect his Daredevil duties for one night. Not right now. 

When you reminded him a few weeks ago, he told you that the 31st of October is boring and overrated, kissed you, and then you both went to bed. 

You decided that night that it was time to use a different set of weapons. If Matt knew, he would go crazy, but that is what you aim for. You want him to go crazy. Crazy for you. 

The first step of your plan sounds easier than it is: convince him to come with you.

“You going to Karen’s party?” he asks you one evening before going out into the night.

You answer curtly, “Yeah.”

“Got a costume?”

“You know I do.”

His lips curl into a smirk. “Are you going to let me feel it? Or do you want me to guess?” 

“I want you to come with me.” You help zip his Daredevil suit back up. “I want you to put the mask down and come with me. Karen invited the both of us,” you say. “She’s gonna be asking questions.”

If it’s the disappointed cadence of your voice or the fact that he’s curious about what you’re going to wear, you’re not sure, but when he suddenly agrees, you’re taken aback. “I’ll join you guys later,” he murmurs. “Right now–“

Your excitement falls flat again. “The city needs you. Yeah, I know.” 

You’re starting to grow sick and tired of that sentence. He doesn’t deserve this. He is trying his best, and you act like a needy child. You’re angry while he is saving lives and making sure the streets are a little safer. But you stood by for weeks without complaining once that you felt a bit neglected. You always show him unwavering support. Even now, you want nothing more than for him to do what he needs to do, but you do so with a bitter aftertaste. And a lot of misplaced jealousy. 

Not having him close is torture. You need him. Even dressed in protective red leather, he looks too hot to handle, and that makes you crave him even more.

You brush off the ache in your core and focus on getting him dressed for the night. You don’t want him to get hurt.

“You going to wear the costume?” you ask.  

He cocks an eyebrow. “You mean the sweater that says ‘I’m not Daredevil?’”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, it’s a joke only the four of us will understand. It’s perfect!”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he says, his unfocused eyes darting up toward the ceiling. “I just… How about I just put a suit on and say I’m James Bond?”

“Please?” You wrap your arms around his neck. 

He sighs warily in response. “Will you tell me what your costume is?”

“No,” you answer plainly.

That’s the second part of your plan; wear the most revealing costume you could wear, and drive him crazy when he does appear at the party and hears you mingling. When he smells your bare skin, and when he realizes that you’re getting all the attention he should be giving you. 

“Please,” he copies your pleading tone, lips pursed into a frustrated pout. The conflict in his eyes is not yet covered by the red mask. 

He’s contemplating. For a moment, he considers staying. He wants to spend time with you; he wants to go to the party and have fun. You love Halloween and he would do anything to make you happy, but he can’t. The city is busier than usual. Louder. More intense. His ears can’t seem to catch a break. He tries to focus on you, to tune out the noise, but he fails miserably every damn time.

He doesn’t sleep, not much, and he barely eats anymore because he drowns himself in work so deeply that he forgets his basic needs. He just needs it all to stop. He has to go out to get some semblance of relief—to fight, to get his fists bloody, and come home exhausted enough to get a few hours of shut-eye before the cycle inevitably repeats itself.

It has been like this for weeks now. He is always overstimulated, always overworked; he can’t even kiss you sometimes because the thought alone burns his skin. It hurts that much.

He isn’t going to stop. You know that. You understand, but even the devil’s advocate grows tired sometimes. 

You’re so tired of the distance. You are so tired of him not talking to you when something is bothering him, and you’re tired of having to pretend it doesn’t bother you. 

Still, neither of you want to start the conversation. It’s a series of petty attempts to gain attention, a constant tiptoeing around each other until one of you caves. 

You peck his lips. “You come to the party, you find out,” you say. “You don’t, I guess I’m showing all of this ass for nothing.”

His ears perk up. “You’re what?” 

“Nothing,” you wave him off. 

“No, what did you just say?”

“I said you should come to the party.”

“After that. Is it—I swear to God if you’re wearing something short…”

“Then what? You gonna drag me home and spank me?” You scoff, trying your best to hide the fact that this is exactly what you want him to do.

The silk of your dressing gown hits the floor. It’s time to play even dirtier than before. Your plan is made to be adaptable, after all.

Matt stops breathing. “This isn’t fair,” he growls.

You smirk. “You should go.”

“You’re torturing me, you know that?”

“You decided to go out tonight,” you counter.

“Because I have to.”

“Do you?”

He curses under his breath, “Fuck. Okay, whatever game you’re playing, sweetheart, I need you to stop.”

You’re nowhere near satisfied. In all of your naked glory, you take a step forward. “Or what?” 

“Or,” he says, and his voice lowers barely above a dangerous whisper, “I’ll stuff your cunt with my fingers until you’re begging me to come. And then, just when you’re about to, I’ll pull away and leave you to take care of it yourself because I know you won’t be able to come without my help. That’s what I’m gonna do if you keep teasing me like that.”

Your jaw drops. You’ve got him right there, with his teeth buried in the hook, but he knows that if he lets the trap fall shut, you win. This isn’t just a desperate attempt at getting his attention anymore—you’ve got that now. This is turning into a game. 

Matt smirks, hearing the uptick of your heartbeat. He thinks he’s so smart. Reaching out, he cups your bare pussy with his rough palm, eliciting a sweet moan out of your mouth that shoots right to his cock. “Already so fucking wet for me,” he purrs. 

His touch feels like electroshocks shooting right into your bloodstream. It has been way too long, and you’re already burning for him before you can even fight back.

You want to beg him to keep going, but as quickly as he has put his hands on you, he retreats again. 

Matt marvels at the feeling of your slick between his thick fingers. He takes a whiff. Your arousal is so prominent in the air that his face contorts in agony. And then, he slides the digit into his mouth. Your distinctive taste explodes on his taste buds, and he moans, “Delicious.”

The show he’s giving you is utterly erotic, and it takes everything in you not to drop to your knees and take his aching cock out of his suit. 

Pressing his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, he whispers, “I’ll see you later.” 

He’s gone before you can protest.

He’s not the only one who has tricks up his sleeves though, and you’re more than ready to seek your revenge later tonight and finally get what you so deeply crave from him. He has to let go eventually, and he has to pay attention to you for longer than five minutes. You both need it.

Dressed in your costume and with a bottle of liquor, you make your way to Karen’s apartment. You’re determined to make this night last. Well, at least long enough for Matt to arrive, and then it’s showtime. 

Your friend greets you with a welcoming hug. Her small living space is already crowded, and you make your way through toward the table with the drinks. You can feel several eyes on you. Without your coat on, the costume you’re wearing leaves little to the imagination. You wonder if Matt can smell you across the city, wherever he may be right now. Maybe he does, and maybe he can tell what the thought of him is doing to you. Maybe he can tell that this is exciting you and he will cut his patrol short tonight. But you know he isn’t paying attention to you. He only does so when he fears that you’re in danger.

“And who are you supposed to be?” a low voice asks beside you.

You turn to find a tall guy dressed as a werewolf approaching the punchbowl to your right. 

“The tag said ‘slutty witch’,” you answer. “But I find the term a bit… problematic, so I’m a witch who likes to wear very short clothes on very cold days.”

He chuckles. Underneath his makeup and the fake fur, you can’t make out his features, but it’s not like you care anyway. “Well,” he says, “you’re a very beautiful witch.”

Oh, now he’s flirting with you. 

Your plan for tonight includes mingling to draw attention to you and make Matt jealous when he gets here, not flirting with strangers. You would never do that to Matt. You also don’t feel the need to flirt with anyone who isn’t your boyfriend, even though the attention does make you blush for a moment— mostly out of discomfort. 

You’re not interested in this man. Werewolves are only your type when they’re fictional, and even then you will always prefer your devil over hairy mythological creatures. 

You take a sip of your drink. “I accept the compliment,” you say. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” the man answers. He takes another step toward you. “Are you here alone?”

You take a step back. “Yes, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Playing hardball, huh?”

“No, actually, I’m just not interested.” 

“Nah, I don’t believe that. Is it another guy? It’s a guy, right? It has to be a guy.”

You glare at him. “Why? Because you’re so hot and irresistible and can’t take no for an answer?” Your voice drips with sarcasm. 

He leans toward you, and he’s getting dangerously close to your personal space. “You think I’m hot. You said it,” he says. 

Thankfully, he turns around to pour himself a cup of punch before touching you against your will. You wouldn’t hesitate to snap his neck like a twig. 

Your heart is pounding as the adrenaline mixes with fury in your veins. You forget about Matt and the fact that you dressed like this for him. He will appreciate it, and his opinion matters most to you. You just hope that this guy will leave it be so you can join your friends on the other side of the room.

“No offense, dude,” you tighten your grip around your cup, “but I think I’d rather be anywhere but here.”

Karen and Foggy are mingling somewhere, and you know that you’re definitely safe with them. 

The werewolf smirks. “Can I come?” 

Before you can tell him off, the very thing you thought wouldn’t happen happens. 

“I believe the lady said she’s not interested,” Matt pipes up behind you.

So he was listening to you from across the city. His locked jaw is an indication that he is fuming inside. More than fuming. He’s about to explode.

Oh fuck. 

He appears next to you, and one look at him makes you beam. He is wearing the red sweater with the big, white “I’m Not Daredevil” written on it. He even put on the antlers. 

The werewolf takes a good look at him when he wraps his arm around your waist, and he finally retreats. “She’s all yours,” he says. 

“Yeah, she is,” says Matt. You can’t see his eyes, but the rest of his face is expressive enough to give the other man a faint idea of what he is capable of. As innocent as he may look, he isn’t.

There’s a certain dominance he carries that could make any grown human being weak in their knees. You are the only one who would voluntarily do so and thank him, and beg him for more. 

Once the werewolf has disappeared, Matt turns you toward him. His feral demeanor slips for just a moment. “Are you okay?” he asks softly. He cradles your face in his hand, his thumb brushing your cheekbone, and you once again find yourself on fire.

For you, he put the costume on. For you, he came. And everything you have been struggling with these past weeks while he was absent feels so stupid now because he has been trying from the start, you just didn’t want to see it because you were so upset and needy. 

You nod weakly, leaning into his touch. “He was just…weird,” you murmur. Reaching out, you touch his sweater. “You’re wearing the costume.”

Matt shows the faintest hint of a smile before it completely fades from his face again.

“Yeah,” his answer is breathless. “But what the fuck are you wearing?” His hand slips from your waist to your exposed thighs with a low growl. A shiver ripples through him.

“A costume.”

He brushes over your ass, and there is hardly anything there to cover the fishnets you’re wearing. If he grips a little tighter, he will hold your flesh in his hands. Just a little lower and he will touch your wet cunt. Your scent is overwhelming, and the feeling of your skin in the crowded room makes all the lights in his brain go dark as they burst. He’s already so hard in his jeans. 

“Was this your plan all along?” he asks. His grip on your cheek tightens, and the other hand grabs your ass. “Get me to come with you just to hear your thighs brush against each other? To smell how wet you are with barely any fabric covering your pussy? Did you want me to bend you over in front of everyone just so I’ll touch you? Are you that desperate?”

You’re in trouble. Big, big trouble—and it’s exactly what you wanted. To be fair, it stands in a slightly different light now, but it’s Halloween. Things always go differently than planned on Halloween.

You swallow thickly, fluttering your lashes at him as innocently as you can. “You’ve been so busy,” you confess, “and I just missed you. I missed you so much, baby. I had to do something to get your attention.”

He bares his teeth. Those gorgeous teeth behind those gorgeously plump lips. You can only imagine them on yours. You can only imagine what it will feel like to have him between your thighs now, wildly licking at your slick folds while thrusting his skilled fingers in and out of your cunt. God, you want that. You need it. The thought alone is enough to make your thighs clench, and you cross them. You’re positively dripping. 

“Listen to me,” he demands, and his grip moves to your chin. “You’re going to finish that drink, alright? You’re gonna drink up, you’re gonna say goodbye to Foggy and Karen, and then we’re going to get out of here so I can fuck that feeling of inadequacy right out of that beautiful head of yours. Are we clear?”

You stare into your reflection in his glasses. The blood is rushing in your cheeks. You don’t trust your voice; all you can do is nod.

“Good girl.” His hand drops from your face. 

You’re shaking. Your knees are weak, and your legs feel like jelly. You breathe and you live solely for him. He has a power over you that is almost embarrassing to admit to. 

When you try to down the rest of your punch in one gulp, Matt stops you. By slowing you down, he’s teasing you. You suppose that you deserve it, but you’re not sure how much longer you can wait. 

It takes an agonizing while for you to finish your drink, say goodbye to your friends, and call a cab. Matt keeps his hands to himself. It’s so unlike him, but it gives you an idea of what’s to come, and the anticipation is killing you.

The door to his apartment hasn’t even fully shut behind you when he flips you around and pushes you against the wall, chest first. He does it with such force that your palms burn upon landing. You gasp.

“You’ve been teasing me all night,” he rasps into your ear. “I put this costume on for you. To be nice. If I’d known you would make it your mission to make my dick hard in front of dozens of people, I would have fucked you before going out tonight.”

You know that he wouldn’t have, but the thought still sends shivers down your spine. Not a single coherent thought is left in your mind.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t–” you break off into a moan.

Your tights are torn in two by his eager hands, and you moan when he pulls you back against his hard cock. You can feel his straining against your pants against your now bare skin. You want to reach out and touch him, but he won’t let you. 

And then, his palm lands flat on your bare ass cheek. He doesn’t even bother to take the rest of the costume off.

“You didn’t mean to?” he asks. “Are you sure about that?” 

You buck your hips. His dark chuckle grazes your ear. 

“Answer me, sweetheart.”

“I meant to,” you cry out when his hand comes back down on your red ass cheek. It stings, but the pain shoots straight to your middle where it settles in your needy core. “And I don’t regret it.”

“That’s better.” 

“Please.” You don’t know what you’re begging for, but this aching emptiness is driving you crazy. You need his cock, and it’s becoming pathetically obvious.

Matt gives your backside another slap before pressing you further against the wall. “Don’t ever doubt that you’re the most important thing in the world to me,” he says. “But slutty witch? You know what that does to me?”

You can’t help but smirk. “Yeah.”

He tears the underwear under your skirt in two. 

“If you want to be a slutty witch,” he presses his lips to your ear, “then act like it.”

Without a warning, without preparation, he thrusts into you. Your lips part in a lustful moan. 

Matt is relentless. One arm wraps around you, the other around your throat. He thrusts his hips upward, filling you to the brim with his cock. He pulls out just enough to move past your G-spot and directs the tip of his cock toward that spongy spot that makes you see stars. 

His name tumbles from your lips like a mantra. Matt, Matt, Matt… 

Your chest deflates. The corset of your costume is so tight, you can’t breathe. Your nipples ache underneath the fabric. They want to be free. They want to be touched. 

“Matt,” you beg. 

He doesn’t hesitate to open the ties at the front, pulling you free from the metal cage. 

The air gets knocked out of your lungs. He tightens his grip, locking the oxygen in your windpipe. Skin slaps against skin, moans fill the air scented with the stench of sex and every time his cock penetrates your tight walls, he pushes you further to the edge of the precipice.

From around your waist, he moves his arm down and his hand to your pussy. He catches your clit with precision. His thrusts speed up. They hit deeper and harder, and your eyes roll back into your head.

Matt, Matt, Matt…

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he grunts. “Such a good little slutty witch for me, sweetheart. Push back against me.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You move your hips back to meet his thrusts. He lets out a moan of his own, digging his teeth into the soft flesh of your shoulder.

“That’s it.” He rubs in rapid circles over your clit. Your body is begging for a release.

The wall feels cold against your heated forehead. His fingers tighten around your throat again, causing you to clench around his cock. He twitches. You can feel every desperate drag of him inside of you, and he only keeps on giving you more, and more, and…

Your hand finds his against against the wall. The warning of your impending orgasm gets lost, but he doesn’t need verbal confirmation for something that he can feel every time he thrusts into the walls of your cunt that are hugging him so tightly, he is holding on by a thread. 

As if to distract himself, Matt lands another harsh slap against your bottom. “Who do you belong to?” he asks, feeling the flesh jiggle under his touch. 

You moan. “You, Matthew. Only you!”

Your screams of pleasure are music to his ears. He repeats the motion of his hand. You will have imprints on your skin tomorrow, and he will proudly feel them before you have to go to work. Leaving his mark on you is an exciting thought.

His balls tighten. He won’t last much longer if you keep squeezing him like that—if those thoughts keep popping into his head, and he barely manages to keep himself from coming right then and there, coming deep inside of you and fucking his cum into you until you#re overflowing. 

The pain from the sloppy spanking—he isn’t capable of seriously hurting you—floods your system and your pussy at the same time, amplifying the lewd noise echoing in his otherwise silent apartment. With the added wetness, the circles he rubs over your clit with his calloused fingers become impossibly faster. The sensitive bundle of nerves starts to scream; you can barely take it anymore, but you need his permission to come. In this scene, at least. You must always wait for his permission when he punishes you like this. 

You have a safe word for a reason, but you’re too blissed out to care. You love what he’s doing to you. You love how it feels, and you love how well the little pain he introduces you to every time mixes with the pleasure that consumes you whole. 

He buries his nose in your neck. You smell of sweat, salt, and his shampoo. It makes you feel better, you told him. To him, it’s a sensory dream. You complete him, and your scent complements him in ways he doesn’t fully understand. All Matt knows is that it makes him feel good, and not just because he gets a little possessive sometimes. It’s a warmth that runs deeper than the words of the English language could describe.

Again, he flicks your clit. “I want you to come,” he finally says the five words you have been waiting for. “I want you to come all over my cock, and I want you to scream my name so this entire city knows who’s taking care of you.”

Your pussy clenches around him again, and with a shout, you come undone. Your legs shake as the coil in your lower stomach snaps, tearing down your walls. You spasm, and you cry out his name. No feeling could ever be as powerful as the orgasms that Matt manages to give you. They are like tsunamis, and they know no mercy. They are a force of nature that no one can control. You know it will happen, but you never know the force of it until it happens. And every time it does, you feel like you’re floating in a world far from home where only he, his godly hands, and his cock exist. 

Matt fills you with his cum after a few more sloppy thrusts. He comes hard, and it doesn’t seem to stop for quite a while. He’s leaking onto your thighs at this point, but the stickiness is only another reminder of him, and it makes you feel warm inside. 

With your breathing slowed to a more acceptable pace, you allow yourself to lean back against him. “Wow,” you mumble. 

He catches some of his cum from the inside of your thigh. “Yeah,” he says. “Wow.”

You greedily open your mouth. The salty essence of him spreads over your tongue. He’s the only man whose taste you would carry with you proudly for days. 

The kiss Matt delivers to your cheek is sweet. 

“Did you like my—” 

He cuts you off, “Yeah. Too much.”

“But it did work,” you say. 

“You could’ve just talked to me.” 

You look over your shoulder, you notice that he’s still wearing his costume, minus the glasses. His hazel eyes are full of hurt. Shame. Guilt.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t think you’d listen.”

“I always listen,” he says. “Even when you think I don’t.”

You whimper at the loss of his cock when he pulls out. Matt doesn’t turn you around right away, and for a split second, you fear that this will turn into an argument. 

Instead, he sweeps you up into his arms.

“Don’t disappear on me again,” the plea is whispered directly into his ear.

His hold on you tightens, carrying you toward your shared bedroom. “I won’t.”

“Thank you.”

“I love you.” The sincerity in his voice lights the candle in your soul that threatened to go out. 

You answer without missing a beat, “I love you too.”

“Do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

Matt throws you down on the mattress. “Keep the costume.”

Halloween might just become his favorite holiday, after all. 

Matt Murdock Smut Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama

[vii-doodles]

HazbinAutumnWeek day 2: classical Halloween Costumes

Little interaction snippet under the cut

(my silly writing seemed to make some of you happy so I'm more confident to post more silly writing)

Velvette’s Halloween party was in full swing, the room decked out in eerie, flickering lights and cobwebs so convincing they could almost be real... And maybe they were. They were in hell after all. She’d poured her heart into every last detail, from the fake fog rolling across the floor to the bowls of candy everywhere and, of course, into the costumes her fellow Overlords had grudgingly agreed to wear.

Standing in front of her now, Valentino adjusted the lapels of his ripped blue shirt, a tattered attempt at a "Frankenstein's monster" look. But, naturally, he’d put his own spin on it and he’d insisted on hot pants that glistened in the dim light, paired with towering stilettos. “Sexy monster” was more his vibe, and Velvette had rolled her eyes, but secretly, she knew it was perfect for him.

Beside him, Vox stood stiffly in his “werewolf” costume. Taped-on wolf ears perched awkwardly on his screen casing, one already starting to peel away. His suit was purposefully torn and a faux tail drooped behind him but he refused to take it off, grumbling whenever it caught on something. His screen flickered with feigned annoyance, though his gaze softened every time he glanced at Velvette, a rare willingness to go along with her plans. She was lucky that he had been in a good mood lately.

Noticing his poorly taped-on wolf ears already slipping off, Velvette clicked her tongue in mock disapproval and stepped up to him. “Hold still, Vee,” she said, peeling the flimsy tape off and replacing it with tiny, hidden magnets she pulled from her pocket. She pressed the ears back on, securing them firmly. “Now you can go wild on the dance floor without losing these… not that you would, you old fuck.”

Vox gave a dry laugh, screen flickering with amused pixels as he adjusted his new, sturdier ears. “Fierce as always, Velvette. But I used to dance a lot before you were even born!"

"Yeah yeah, old fuck." Velvette waved a dismissive hand but Vox looked her up and down. "What are you supposed to be? Toilette paper?"

Velvette herself was wrapped in gauzy white strips, styled and layered. "Fuck you, I'm a hot mummy, you prick." Vox really was just teasing because she struck a balance between sexy and stylish, a classic costume with just enough Velvette flair to make her feel untouchably cool, and if there was one thing Vox respected then it was his partners unique talents and Velvette understood fashion more than he ever could.

The night was a success, and despite all their grumbling, Velvette knew they were having a good time too.

“Alright, everyone, photo time!” she declared, pulling out her phone with a smirk. “Gotta show my followers I’m out with the undead elite.”

Valentino scoffed, strucking a pose with a grin, one stiletto jutting forward. “You just can’t resist capturing all this, Muñeca?”

Vox sighed, muttering, “Let’s make this quick,” but he leaned in, glancing at Velvette with an almost amused look.

She frowned, realizing the height difference between her and the two of them. “Hey, Vox, help me out here?”

With a knowing smirk, Vox extended a cable from his back, letting it loop under her foot like a branch. Velvette grinned, bracing herself as she hopped up onto it, and Vox gave the cable a light boost, lifting her smoothly into place. She wobbled for a second, laughing as she steadied herself, finally level with both of them.

"Alright, smile!" Velvette called, holding out her phone. Valentino flashed his perfect grin, Vox's screen flickered to a glowing eyed snarl, and Velvette's expression was cute as ever. As the camera clicked, she took in the sight of them - her ridiculous friends, in all their chaotic glory. A little warmth splayed inside her chest. She loved them for getting into this for her, even if she’d never say it out loud.

[a-student-out-of-time]

The Post-Tragedy Horrors of Despair Time

Hello everyone, Mod Bubbles here!

This Halloween, I decided to do something a little different. Rather than a dedicated post or song parody, I've decided to share a worldbuilding analysis. A pretty fortuitous one, since we've recently completed Chapter 2 of Despair Time.

I'm sure it's no exaggeration to say that DT is a pretty dark fangan, especially within its own context. I wouldn't say it's as grimdark and nihilistic as some people are convinced it is, but there's some elements to it that I feel are worth analyzing going forward.

See, it's been established that DT is set within the Hope's Peak continuity. This would mean that the canon games sans V3 (and if you want to have fun with it, other fangans like the Another series) have all happened here.

According to a Q&A, DT is set around 70-80 years after the end of the Tragedy, so if you wanted to estimate based on in-universe dates (such as Makoto's Hope's Peak brochure saying 2010 in the earliest version of the game but 2014 in a re-release), that would put it sometime around 2080 to the mid-2090s. Veronika backs this up in Chapter 2, when she mentions the Tragedy happened "almost a century ago."

Why do I bring all this up? Because if you looked at DT, you'd probably never guess it was that deep in the future. I know I didn't at first. And this is all by design, but it goes beyond simple cosmetic details. Allow me to explain to you why this is probably the darkest timeline that could've happened after Class 78's victory over Ultimate Despair.

___________________________________________________

Modern Stagnancy

So if we look at the obvious, the world of DT looks pretty much identical to our own, which should be a good thing. When you consider that this is set after The Biggest, Most Awful, Most Tragic Event in Human History- an event that saw societal collapse, wars happen for the sake of destruction, massive pollution, rampant murder, and countless killing games- then it almost seems utopian.

Cities have long since been rebuilt, the skies are clear, there are functional trains, movies, celebrities, schools, music, art, Ted-Talks, the internet, all the trappings of normality. And that's really the problem.

Once the recovery efforts were underway, the goal of those in power was to rebuild things exactly as they used to be. Bear in mind, the world looks like our modern day, yet this is set deep into the late 21st century. In that context, the world almost seems stunted in its growth or even that it's regressed, given that CDs and DVDs are used rather than USBs or digital downloads.

Not only that, but this extends to societal attitudes as well. Nico was the victim of bullying over their status as an enby by everyone who knew, including their own father. It's almost the 22nd century and anti-LGBTQ bigotry like this still exists.

In that context, it feels less like the world is recovering and more that it's been stuck in its pre-Tragedy status quo, right down to continuing the Ultimates program that contributed to The Tragedy in the first place. And who would be motivated to do that?

2. Hope's Peak And Their Kin Are Stronger Than Ever

Probably one of the most contentious aspects of DR3's ending is that, after everything the people in charge of it were responsible for- exploiting their students, covering up crimes, human experimentation- Hope's Peak Academy was rebuilt by the survivors, now with Makoto as headmaster.

Now, one could make the argument that Makoto is a better example of hope and thus better suited to lead the school to follow its stated ideals than the Steering Committee ever was. That very well may be true, but as they also proved, nobody stays in charge forever. And now, because of his decision, Hope's Peak isn't contained to Japan.

There now exist Hope's Peak branches in every major country on Earth, with two in the United States. Teruko and co. are students of the East Coast Division's 27th class, meaning that one opened almost thirty years ago. This would also mean that Japan's Hope's Peak would have seen over 150 classes since its inception.

I bring all this up because, as has been made very clear by canon, Hope's Peak is a terrible place even in concept. When you remove the idyllic aspect of fostering talent and guaranteeing its students are set for life, the truth is that ultimates are stunted in their development. They're only encouraged to excel in their particular field, whether they really want to or not.

In addition, Hope's Peak has always quietly held this belief that only people with talent hold any worth; those without talent are just "ticks" who leech off the success of their betters. Characters like Byakuya and Nagito echo those very same sentiments, this extreme elitism that encourages people to view the "99%" as inherently inferior.

Even if you wanted to say Makoto managed to undo that idea, can we really say this divide would never come up again? No matter how many years pass or how many divisions of Hope's Peak are set up across the world? That seems really far-fetched to me.

Consider Min's bonus video. As she explains, she was never scouted by the school. Instead, America's Hope's Peak announced something called the Ultimate Contest for Eminent Students, where eligible high school students would be allowed to take a test, the best of whom would be admitted to the school when they graduated. The catch is that they had 12 years to prepare. Min, who was only 5 at the time, wasn't initially going to participate, but then the founder of a company called XF-Ture Tech approached her family- who was quite poor- and wanted to sponsor her in exchange for her participation.

She spent her entire life preparing for that test. And when she passed, she realized it was all really just an experiment to create their ideal version of the Ultimate Student. She even doubted that she was the best in terms of raw score, just that she met their desired expectations by cutting out everything else in her life for that test.

It also extends beyond just Hope's Peak itself. Those with power and influence now hold a strangle hold over the most vulnerable people out there, as we can see with the Lacroix family.

Rose wanted to help her family out of their financial limitations using her painting skills and her photographic memory, which lead to her becoming an art forger. However, at 15, she was found out and her family faced tens of millions in fines. This would've been the end, but then they were bailed out by a billionaire named Richard Spurling, founder of the Spurling Foundation. In exchange for clearing her charges, Rose had to sign a contract that meant she doesn't own the rights to anything she paints.

She hates what her life has become, where she can only ever really paint things at the whims of the Foundation because it was the only way her family could survive that mountain of debt. The exploitation there is undeniable.

No matter where you look, there's still exploitation and experiment abound with the school, corporations and the wealthy. And if you think the Spurling Foundation sounds bad here, they're implied to be responsible for something much worse.

Which is also brings us to Xander. See, there's a curious detail when we first meet him in the prologue:

And I agree. Xander being the Ultimate Rebel really doesn't fit him, as he's better described as the "Ultimate Revolutionary." Except there's no chance Hope's Peak would call him that, instead paying lip service to the idea in a digestible format to still support the status quo.

Xander is an activist who works to oppose corruption, but the ones who benefit from corruption wouldn't want him to flaunt that. It's a subtle but very clever detail that shows those in power still maintain a hold even over their beloved Ultimates.

They probably had no issue throwing the obviously corrupt under the bus to save their own hides, and raised Xander up with a quasi-supportive title. It gives them a chance to look like they're supporting what he's doing while still tying an element of a "rebellious child" to his image with the name.

Had Xander survived, he had a good reason to want to bring them down, especially the Spurlings.

3. Illness and Poverty

Xander's bonus video clued us in on what I believe is one of the most important parts of DT's continuity: the fate of the town of Chariton, implied to be where he lived. It seemed to be a small town, home to a couple hundred or a couple thousand people, where the only hospital for miles was "dinky, understaffed" and barely able to handle a minor flu outbreak. They were completely unprepared for what became known as the Chariton Incident.

When he was around 14, the town was hit by a disease that caused those infected to decay from the outside in; their limbs would stop working before their organs did, meaning they would just lay there and feel themselves slowly dying. So many died that nobody was left to move the bodies, so they were left where they fell, rotting in the summer heat.

The cause of this outbreak? A contaminated river that served as the town's water source. Chariton was an impoverished community, where people had no money to treat their water, get medicine from a nearby city or to even move out. It's also implied, based on Xander's anger, that Duke Spurling was partially responsible and that he got off the hook, which may be what drove Xander to become the Ultimate Rebel. Especially when you consider he's the only surviving member of his family.

Duke Spurling is, as the named implies and Dev has confirmed, the younger brother of Richard Spurling. The money and influence needed to get his brother off the hook is the very same that has the Lacroix family under his thumb.

So as we can see, Chariton was a major event in DT's canon. Not only does it showcase corruption, it also showcases understated but still prominent problems in the post-Tragedy U.S. If you pay attention, you'll also notice Teruko, Min, and Rose mention poverty playing a role in their lives.

As we can see, poverty plays a major role in their lives, and that extends beyond a personal level. Chariton's poverty is why the incident happened at all, and a big reason is because it's also an example of a medical desert.

"Medical desert" is a term used to describe regions whose population has inadequate access to healthcare. This can be all healthcare in general or in specialties such as dental care or pharmaceuticals. This is an especially prominent problem in rural areas, but it can affect urban ones too.

If that sounds implausible to you, today it's believed that around 30 million Americans- over 1% of the population- live over an hour from a hospital. Can you imagine how bad the problem is in a world after The Tragedy? All the damage to infrastructure, established institutions, the economy, and the population? I doubt Chariton was the first to see something this bad.

Ace's execution gives us more clues. In the Death By Illness section, there are several newspaper clippings on the wall, most of which are readable. One flashes on screen saying "Unexplained Illness Kills Thousands," which I believe is another reference to Chariton (why else would it flash on screen?), but there's more as well:

"More people are dying of cancer than ever before"

"Flu season claims thousands of lives"

"Falling rates of survival for hospitalized patients"

"Antibiotic-resistant infections a growing threat in this hospital"

One is harder to read, but I believe it mentions Chronic Kidney Disease being tied to an early death

Now, the interesting thing is that most of these are modern headlines, and they can be pretty misleading. The cancer one is actually based on the fact that more people are living longer lives, thus are reaching ages where they develop cancer due to their cell infrastructure breaking down naturally. It doesn't mean there's more cancer cases overall across all ages.

The only one that's not true is the falling rates one. Which suggests that not only was it Chariton, but healthcare infrastructure in general after the Tragedy seems to be a mess.

See, I was assuming that these articles are identical to what we see today. But it's also possible that the cancer one is now literally true, and it could be because The Tragedy was rife with this kind of horror. We know that terrorism, coups and wars happened for no reason other than to spread despair across the world.

Could you imagine how many nuclear, chemical, biological and radiological weapons were used? How many diseases and hazardous materials were seeded into the environment? If it's unsafe to drink tap water after a serious hurricane or earthquake, how bad is the problem when contamination is the goal?

And this doesn't even touch on how disturbingly easy it would be to spread long-term illnesses such as HIV or CJD in contaminated food and medical supplies. Some diseases have latency periods that last decades, meaning they could still be killing people even by the time DRDT is set.

Antibiotic resistance is also a very real and serious problem. Even today, some strains have become immune to even the strongest antibiotics available. This has given rise to Vancomycin-Resistant Enterococci or VREs, which are immune to basically every medication we can throw at them.

Now, it's still possible to deal with them, such as with naturally antimicrobial metals or experimental treatments such as CRISPR and Phage Therapy, but in a world that saw such a massive hit to everything? I'm certain antibiotic-resistance bacteria have become much more serious, potentially resulting in epidemics over the years.

And when these things happen, it's always the poor who suffer the most.

4. Lethal Repetition

Now we come to the most obvious example, something highlighted by the same reveal that DT is set nearly a century into the future:

Veronika, who provided us with information on the effects the Tragedy still has, apparently has never heard about The Killing School Life.

Now, it's important to keep in mind that most of the Killing Games in DR were pretty secluded and motivated. SDR2 was only broadcast to Future Foundation with the goal to allow Junko to escape into the real world, for example. However, DR1's Killing School Life was broadcast globally as a means to break humanity's hope by showing the Ultimates slaughtering each other. Instead, Makoto and co. managed to reinvigorate the world's hope and played a pivotal role in ending the Tragedy.

...And yet Veronika apparently hasn't heard any of it.

Now, there's two possibilities here, neither of which are good:

One is that the Mastermind has removed their knowledge of previous killing games, specifically. Now, I actually consider this an unlikely explanation because, not only does Teruko seem to vaguely remember the Killing School Life happened, but what's the goal in doing so for the participants?

The canon games all had solid reasons why the other masterminds erased the participants' memories: the revelation that they'd been killing their friends, the fact that their past identities were supposed to be undone to save them, even the fact that they weren't even who they were supposed to be in V3.

But what's the purpose of suppressing the memories of the Killing School Life in the participants themselves? Especially since this game is also apparently being broadcast to the outside world, although we only have MonoTV's word on that. Is it to undermine everything the survivors achieved or to get the participants not to consider the same strategies?

The other, more plausible explanation to me is that the mastermind isn't the one who erased their memories. The outside world did.

It's possible that, in the decades since the Tragedy and the drive to return things to the status quo, knowledge of the Killing School Life has been suppressed. It would be so easy to blame Makoto's decision to rebuild the school, but it's just as plausible that his attempts to genuinely reform the school were undone over the years.

Corporations and those that came after had a vested reason to improve their own reputations, and why would they allow their connection to the Tragedy to remain public knowledge? The entire thing began as a revolution of lower classes against the rich before it became a whirlwind of mindless violence.

So what does this mean for DT? This is more hypothesizing on my part, but I'd say this could tell us a lot about the potential motivations for this very killing game. Could it be someone trying to remind the world about this event and how we got here? Is it more retribution against the wealthy? Is it someone who was inspired by Junko to slaughter her friends? Or is it something else entirely? And what role does Teruko have if someone involved is so hellbent on trying to kill her?

For now, we can only speculate. But I can tell you that, based on what we've seen here, DT is probably the darkest future we could've gotten out of the canon series.

Happy Halloween, everyone!

[cheyisagirlkisser]

Potions 'n Passions: Spooky Season Special

HALLOWEEN SPECIAL ONESHOT (Ellie Williams x witch Fem! reader)

BEFORE YOU READ: I want to do more Halloween/spooky type writing before October is over so if you have any ideas pls request!

Content: Oral sex(R! receiving), Jackson Ellie, witch reader, Dina doesn't really exist in this so the events of the game are tweaked to fit the story, violence, scary themes, gore(descriptions of bodies and witchy symbols engraved into skin) Smut with plot, this is more of a blair witch project type of witch than a cutesy romantic situation

Word Count: 3k

Summary: After Joel's death, a revenge thirsty Ellie would do anything to avenge the man who was practically a father to her. She had heard of countless urban legends of a frightening witch who hides away deep in the forests outside of Jackson. They say she can provide spells and potion, but everything has a cost. More dark stories say she's a vexing woman who has a few tricks up her sleeve. Determined to avenge Joel, Ellie leaves Jackson in pursuit of finding out if the legends of some wicked witch are true. If this witch could help her make those responsible for Joel’s death pay, Ellie would pay her a visit with no hesitation. However, what she finds is far from what she expected.

Ellie had been traveling outside of Jackson for a day and a half, and each step felt like she was barreling towards what could be a reckless mistake. A fatal mistake and in ways Ellie didn't even know existed. She knew what she was attempting was not conventional in any sense, however, what was the definition of conventional in a post apocalyptical world in which the person closest to you is brutally murdered? Ellie wasn't a dumbass; she knew going on a literal witch-hunt was like a horror story waiting to happen. But she was so desperate for revenge, to get justice for Joel and all that jazz, that she must've left her senses at home. And now here she was, deep outside of Jackson's sanctuary, snow crunching under her boots as she carefully treaded deeper into the forest.

The moon was full, and the frosty white ground was hardly visible under Ellie's tacky flashlight. The scene was almost eerie enough to make her turn around, but she persisted. Moonlight couldn't seem to reach through the trees. Odd, Ellie thought. These trees were not much different from the ones near Jackson. She forced herself to brush the observation off as the tree types being different than the ones back at home. She tried to ignore the insistent feeling in her gut, the little voice in the back of her mind that begged her to turn around. However, the auburnette was far too determined for that.

Before Joel's death, Ellie had already heard the ridiculous tales of the 'witch of the woods'. She would scrunch her nose up in irritable disbelief, because how could anyone ever believe in something so stupid? Jackson's elders droned on and on, mouthing cautionary tales of some woman far, far away from Jackson who could grant wishes with spells and potions. At first, Ellie found the stories to be cute. What was a town without a little spook behind it? However, as these stories went from classic Halloween folklore and became "the witch uses magic to create ritualistic symbols”, and “those patrollers definitely went missing because of the witch of the woods!", Ellie found them to be a nuisance. They were starting to scare the kids! And for what, a little bit of entertainment? And who would ever be desperate enough for something in this fucked up world that they'd visit some witch to get what they wanted?

Well, that someone was now her. When Joel was killed, her first thought definitely was not, “oh, I should track down the ‘devil’s mistress’, as old man Eugene loved to refer to her as. However, nothing seemed to work in her favor in suit of her vengeance. She had no information on those responsible for what happened, and the other people in the settlement seemed to move on with their lives. It took Ellie a total of two weeks after his death to even consider what she was about to do. However, the thought of that witch really existing, and sending some horrific curse on those who took Joel away was too satisfying of a thought, it couldn’t help but fester in her brain. Plus, she was out of options.

Ellie expected to feel spooked as she walked through the forest, that much was expected. However, she couldn’t continue to brush off the abnormal observations that couldn’t be explained by science. They started with footprints in the snow. And no, not just shoe prints. Ellie crouched down carefully and she didn’t know what she was looking at. ‘Why the hell would someone be barefoot in the middle of a forest, deep in snow?’ If only this was closer to Jackson, then she could theorize that some dumbass on patrol had a case of paradoxical undressing due to the frigid temperatures. If only she could say it was an infected footprint. Part of her knew it couldn’t be, though. However, the next sight was even more odd.

There was what seemed to be a stick figure crafted of sticks, tied together by thin, brown rope. Now, this was inexplicable. This felt so familiar to her. And then, it hit her. Those old stories that circulated in Jackson, those silly legends had to be true, because while she hadn’t paid much attention to the absurd details, she remembered Eugene’s explanation of some ‘clearly satanic conception.’ Did Ellie turn back when she saw a straight line of these figures leading down a steep hill? No, no she did not. She took it as a desperate but hazy sign to keep going.

The steep, snowy hill was not expecting any visitors, and Ellie's footing was lodged into an root, sending her tumbling down at full speed.

Ellie's eyes flickered opened before shutting again, fluttering multiple times before they finally opened to look up at the pitch dark sky. She felt a burning sensation all over, and that's how she knew she had been out for a while. Her skin was freezing cold and frost bite would soon threaten to make its appearance if it hadn't already. However, that wasn't the only pain present. The once purely white flakes that indulged the ground were now littered by crimson droplets. Blood. The adrenaline from the fall began to falter, and Ellie struggled to sit up, her gaze flickering down to the matching red hue coloring her shirt. With shaky hands, she carefully lifted her shirt to find an engraving in her abdomen. It was horrific to look at, and was seemingly randomly placed. A little star symbol. Now, Ellie was full-fledge panicking. Shallow breaths, racing thoughts of her already fading life, and most significantly, an utter sense of bewilderment.

It felt as if hours had gone by since Ellie had accepted her own death. She went out looking for some magical witch who could save her some her grief, give her some justice. Now, she was starting to see the darkest parts of reality in an already tainted world. Ellie wanted to think of more questions to increase her confusion, like why no infected had found her, or why the stick figures that once lined a path for her were suddenly gone without a trace. But all minor wonders seemed to have left her. It was a split second blink, and then there was a building in the far distance.

Moss plastered the humble wood, and there was a faint glow visible from the windows, a faint pulse of electricity. There couldn’t have been any generators around. Ellis knew she was close to something ultimately wicked and sinful, yet she couldn’t stop herself from limping forward towards the home with numb digits and a bloodied abdomen. She felt life slip faster and faster out of her grasp, and determination failed her as she hit the ground once more.

Ellie groaned as she came back to her senses. Her vision was a blurry haze, and her mind was reeling from a weird sense of doom. It was as if her whole body was telling her to run, to evacuate whatever place she was currently in, but the unfortunately reasonable part of her brain told her it was too late for that. She could feel a presence. Ellie remembered some of the old folks in town talking about danger, about how certain aspects of it left you sensing it before you even saw it. But what could she do now? She heard it first.

“Tell me your name..I cannot read you.” It was a voice..it was almost alluring to the auburn girl, which she found strange. The last few hours, she had been introduced to countless ugly horrors. Now, a beautiful feminine voice was ringing into her ears, poisoning her mind. Finally, her eyes reacher clarity and she opened them to see the scene before her.

The room was dark with only candlelight guiding her vision. There were vials of liquids on the dusty shelves that she couldn’t identify. The windows were boarded up with wooden planks from the outside, making the building look as if it were abandoned. However, the sight in front of her was one she couldn’t have predicted from a witches’ lair.

You were beautiful. Beautiful didn’t even put it into words. You had silky, ravenous curls that reached your waist. Your face was utter perfection, as if some Greek philosopher had taken years to debate such a beauty, and some renaissance painter had layered millions of years worth of sublimity onto you. As if some sculptor had carved the very meaning of life into your mold. You could’ve been blinding and Ellie still wouldn’t have been able to look away. She’d seen countless girls in her life, yet none were as alluring as the witch before her. However, she still couldn’t shake the sense of terrible danger that resonated into her soul at the sight. No mortal or even right immortal could be so beautiful and still so good.

“Name. Tell me your name, please.” There it was again, that harmonic call of yours. Ellie tried to find her words, clearing her throat.

“Ellie,” she managed to croak, her voice dry from disuse. It was immature, but she felt self-conscious at the sight of such a beautiful creature.

Your hands held the back of Ellie’s head, and the contact was electric. You were exactly what she needed, an installation of warmth set deep into her body, filling her up like a hearty soup. If only you were that harmless. If only you were actually good for her. Bless that poor lesbian’s heart.. It was harder and harder to remember what she was even doing in this situation, but somehow you already knew.

“I know what you’re here for, Ellie. Revenge..” God, the way your voice indulged into her name like it was made for your lips. However, she had to stay focused. Her brain registered that this event could’ve been a major trap, and your words reminded her to stay somewhat aware. The girl simply nodded, and you leaned forward. Ellie was now aware that she was laid out on a tattered bed, you towering over her body. She suddenly remembered something vivid, the very reason she sought out the building, and her fingertips traveled to feel her abdomen. No branding, no mark on her. However, any concerns or protests she had died down. It was as if she was numbed down, mind clear and yet so hazy. A trance.

You leaned forward and your soft lips tugged upward. The strange feeling in her gut telling her that you were dangerous, a force of nature not to be messed with ceased to get through to her body as she leaned in as well. Your breath fanned over her face, and your scent enveloped Ellie’s nostrils until she finally succumbed to it, her lips chasing after yours.

Ellie told herself that it wasn't her that made the first move. You were mystical; you tempted her, lured her body in ways she couldn't control. You were tempting in ways no mortal could control. Part of her knew that this could end horribly, that she was indulging in her mere lust, but all she could feel was the way your strangely warm lips caressed hers like an embrace of mouths her body craved. She didn't know if witches even had souls or not, but she found a certain type of comfort in the way you provided her with everything she needed. She wasn't thinking about her battle with loss, or Abby and her friends. She was in need of a respite you neutrally gave out.

Each moment felt enhanced, time moving slow as your lips continued to connect and tease each other. You were sitting back and allowing her to lavish attention to your boundless body. You could do anything you wanted to her and you knew that. Hell, Ellie did too. But she just couldn't find it in her to pull away. The outside world was distant, cold, and marked with bodies she used to love. You could give her everything.

Ellie's fingers desperately grasped your face, pulling you closer, her touch uncontrolled and needy. She was worshipping you as if you were some deity. Your lips were so soft, so rosy and perfect against hers while she was stuck in her mortal body, her form chapped and worn but eager nonetheless. Tongues met, yours still somehow so warm and slick against hers, and Ellie let out a soft whine. Usually, she'd never be this impatient. She wouldn't be this needy or this forward, but something deep inside her pussy was telling her she needed to take this moment for granted. Afterall, not everyday can you spend making out with a witch.

Ellie's hands wandered from her hold on your face to your shoulders, taking in your feminine form so perfect she could worship it for hours. She would be, in fact. And the best part was that you just let her. Somehow, you were telling her that this was how it was meant to be. Her palms moved to caress your breasts, how they fit so perfectly in her hands, she needed to visualize soon or she'd die.

And you only confirmed your awareness when you slipped off the clothes that were mended to your body, giving Ellie what she so desperately craved. Ellie noticed the way natural science of light opposed to your body, the way shadows avoided your frame. Your body was a work of art, a natural horror show if she ever knew one, and the branding on your hip was the same as hers yet the fading gut feeling telling her this was wrong disappeared as her fingertips brushed upon the indent the symbol made. However, Ellie's mouth had different wishes, instead latching onto one of your breasts, suckling at your nipple and almost fainting at the taste. Your skin was like a berry bush she wanted to eat away at for the rest of her life span, only so short but fulfilling.

Her lips trailed lower, tongue leaving a wet trail down your stomach and lapped at your hip, observing the way your face tilted back in what could only be identified as pleasure. So you weren't so mysterious after all. Ellie's mouth had a mind of its own, slipping further below until she reached your vagina. She was practically drooling at your body, the way your eyes stared down at her as if you knew the hold you had over her while she was only here to please you. Then it hit her.

That was her purpose here, wasn't it? The request she had kept away in her mind when she embarked upon her journey to you was a large one. Ellie had requested a great harm upon people and had expected you to deliver her greatest justice without payment. This was her payment: your pleasure. This didn't seem to deter her, as she finally placed sweltering smooches to your clit before wrapping her swollen lips around it. You were not holding back your own reactions, eyes glazing over with an obscene amount of pleasure, your brows shifting slightly upwards. This wasn't just a physical situation, but a comfort to your own soul too. That was a vulnerability shared without words, causing Ellie to only double down on her actions, her desperation to please you causing her tongue to find its way into your aching hole, tongue-fucking you with efforts greater than expressed by words. Enough was said telepathically.

Ellie's humble nose bumped away at your clit, and she had enough of playing it safe. She needed you. Ellie pulled away for only a moment to slide two fingers into your slick hole, not thrusting or jamming but instead brushing against the most sensitive spots inside of you as if she was intending to love you. In that moment, Ellie could've. And maybe she did. It wasn't improbable to say Ellie was overcome by the situation at hand, overcome by her own adoration for such a perfect woman. You were the peak of love, the arc of nature. The flat of her tongue nudged at your clit while her fingers continued on with their pace. Nothing could ever satiate her like the nectar that oozed from your most intimate form as she adored it with greedy hands.

When she finally felt you twist and bend with your peak, she couldn't help but marvel at the sight, the sounds, the sensations of wetness on her calloused fingers and tongue. She tried to coax the pleasure further out of you like a sailor baiting at fish, but she could hardly focus. The sight above her, the expressions she received from you, the velvet-sounding moans so delightful to hear were messing with her head.

When Ellie awoke, her head throbbed painfully. However, the expectation she had to awake in your lair were far from granted, as she seemed to awake in Jackson's infirmary. Not much was discussed about her trip. If anyone asked if Ellie had truly discovered some urban legend witch, she'd appear offended, her voice trailing off into a quiet denial. However, some things couldn't be hidden, even if she tried to distance herself from her night spend with a witch.

Several bodies were found not far from Jackson, all stripped of clothing, cold in the snow with symbols tattered across almost every inch of their skin. Most were nearly identifiable by the brutal weather. However, chillingly, one observation made was a female with a blonde braid in her hair, her body fairly strong and healthy. Ellie was given what she wanted, of course. She soon seemed to realize the memories of Joel never ceased. The pain never lessened as your body promised her.

Ellie came to realize after all was said and done that you weren't the perfection she seemed to chase after relentlessly. She would never fully pay you off for you lurked in her dreams when she tossed and turned, haunted by visions of your silhouette, of screams deep in the forest, sometimes haunted by her journey more than Joel. It wasn't only just sex, though. Your voice and the few words you shared only made the connection tethered more closer. You uttered so little yet her feelings were anything but just a divine lust. You would follow her heart, tear at it until the day she died, buried next to Joel in a shallow grave. Ellie was starting to wonder if even death would cut away at the curse you placed upon the poor girl.

[kyana-chan]

Okay, so I was reading this post on tumblr about how the hsr guys would celebrate halloween with their partner, and I got this engineous idea for boothill.

So everyone knows how boothill already looks like a cowboy, right? Plus the mecha parts? He's just gonna be dressed like usual during halloween. There's no need for a costume. HE IS the costume.

So I thought: children would be kinda scared of him, no?

And then: 💡*pling*

An idea popped up.

Tw: Fluff, a lot of fluff, a bit suggestive near the end

Imagine this:

You and boothill are out celebrating Halloween and going door to door trick or treating. On your next stop is a house that is being trick or treated by a couple of children by themselves, a boy and a girl.

On your way to the door of said house, you were about to cross the children, and so, you decided to wave "hi" to them. But then, as soon as they started smiling at you to say "hi" back, they suddenly just stood there, petrified from fear, looking behind you. And you thought: "Is there someone wearing a costume that is that scary?".

So you turned around... and as you did...

You saw your boyfriend standing with a dumbfounded expression on his face, staring back at the two children.

You hid your face from him as you tried to stiffle your laugh as much as possible. Soon enough, you heard a sigh coming from Boothill, and some familiar footsteps echoed in your ears (there's no mistaking the noises they make you can't tell me otherwise).

"Heya kiddos," he kneeled down in front of them, and they visibly moved away from him a little. "Huh. My costume's pretty scarry, ain't it?", the children reluctantly nodded, still a little on guard towards this "scary" looking man.

"Would ya like to try this flashy hat on?", he says, pointing at the hat that rested on his head. You assumed this was his way to try and make the children at least a little more comfortable around him. "How adorable," you thought.

One of the children, the boy, seeming a bit braver than the other, stepped forward and hesitantly nodded. Boothill smirked and said, "Well, ain't ya lucky? You're one of the only people whose had the privilege of trying this here hat on!", as he said that you thought if he wasn't exaggerating a little bit much on the pronunciation (he was definitely exaggerating).

He picked up his hat and lowered it onto the child's head, and adjusted it. "Wow, it suits ya! So much that ya might as well take the title of intergalactic cowboy from me, kiddo!", (since when does he have that title??) both children laughed shyly, and the one trying the hat on thanked your boyfriend.

From the corner of his eye Boothill could see the excited and expectant eyes of the smaller girl. As he gestured the hat towards her, she slowly took it from his hands and put it on, the hat almost falling from her head from how big it was compared to her little one. She held the hat in her head so it wouldn't fall off, and Boothill pat her head over the fabric as he said "Cool, ain't it?", the girl said "Yes" excitedly in a low tone as her eyes twinkled like stars.

The two stayed like that for a few moments until the girl gave Boothill back his hat and the two children started walking out of the property as they waved goodbye to the two of you. "Happy Halloween!", you said as you waved back.

Looking back at Boothill, who was still adjusting his hat on his head, you gave him a fond smile. "Well, you handled that well mister cowboy". With a visible smirk now on your lips, you said "What would you say about having a little one of those for ourselves, hmm?" you stepped closer, placing your face close to his.

Boothill huffed out a chuckle and pulled you close to him by the waist. "I wouldn't mind that at all. Only in the future, though. As long as it's with ya." This caused you to blush and look away from him, covering your mouth with one hand and nodding slightly.

He let go of your waist and grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the house entrance. "But that's a conversation for 'nother time. Right now, we've got some Trick or Treatin' to do", he said with a smile on his face that, if you didn't know better, could have been mistaken for a smirk.

And so, the both of you spent the rest of the night Trick or Treating to your hearts content, while the thought of a mini boothill plagued the back of your mind the whole time.

I needed to write this as soon as I had this idea. I know that it isn't halloween anymore but this just wouldn't leave my head until I wrote it down.

It's the first time I have written anything like this, so please bear it with me if there are any mistakes. I might write more stuff like this, or in a rambling format if I get any more ideas like this one. Hope you like this idea as much as my subconscious likes the idea of boothill being a girl dad again

Peace out. ✌️

[hungermakesmonsters]

Catch Me If You Can

Chapter Seven

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done, Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Chapter Rating : PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Billy is a bit of an asshole in this one and briefly restrains reader during an argument. Also he's kind of an entitled douche. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : ~2.8k

A/N : Ok, so this chapter and the next chapter technically happen on Halloween (I know, i'm super late with this, it's just how things panned out when I decided to post a chapter a week) Thanks to everyone still following this and for all the likes, comments and reblogs, y'all are awesome!!

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX

Chapter Seven

You should have known that it wouldn’t be that easy to get Billy Russo out of your life, not after the night you’d shared together. 

Six days.

That was all it took before he was trying to pull you back in and you hated that you hadn’t expected it. You’d let yourself hope that your one night had been enough, that he’d managed to get you out of his system and he’d be able to move onto whatever woman caught his eye next.

And, you - you’d been trying to forget all about it, about him. You hated leaving him but you knew it was the right thing to do, your life was too messy and you knew that you’d never recover if you let yourself fall for a man like Billy and he broke your heart. You’d done what was best for the both of you, so it pissed you off that Billy didn’t seem to want to accept that.

And it pissed you off even more that he’d decided to use your job against you - a job that he’d never seemed to judge you for, that he was now using to drag you across the city because he wasn’t prepared to take no for an answer. He’d even had the audacity to pre-pay with a two hundred dollar tip, like he thought he could buy you.

By the time you got to Anvil to collect whatever it was Billy wanted you to courier, you were livid. You made your way through the lobby and up to the top floor and, eventually, found yourself in front of the secretary.

“I’m here to collect a package,” you told her.

“Mr Russo wants to hand you it personally,” she answered in a flat tone, waving her hand towards his door, barely looking up from her computer.

“Of course he does,” you sighed, “look, I’m in a rush, can’t you just get it and bring it out here?”

“That’s above my paygrade.” And something told you that that was all you were going to get from her.

So, you did the only thing that you could do; you took a deep breath and stormed into his office. He was sitting at his desk, a takeout coffee and a half eaten bagel in front of him, and when he saw you, he had the nerve to smile.

“One night, Billy, that was the agreement,” you snapped before the door had even finished closing behind you, “We had one night and now it’s done, over.”

He didn’t answer straight away, instead he buzzed the intercom and told his secretary to go get her lunch, presumably so no one would overhear you screaming at him. And, then he stood, smoothing down his suit jacket as he did, looking every bit the businessman with an offer to pitch.

“I want a new agreement,” he stated calmly, rounding his desk and stepping closer, clearing the distance between you. “Nothing is over.”

“And - what? - you think you can buy me now? You think you can just throw a two-hundred dollar tip at me and I’ll fall into bed with you?” You didn’t even try to hold back the anger and the hurt. “Does it make you feel powerful, dragging the poor little bike messenger across town to your big fancy office? Is the money because you want to fuck me or is that supposed to be payment for the other night?”

“That’s not - I didn’t mean to make you feel that way,” the hint of regret in his voice earned him no mercy from you, “I just wanted to see you, the money was so you couldn’t refuse.”

“I don’t want your money, Billy. And, for the record, when a woman sneaks out on you before you wake up, it’s because she’s done with you and doesn’t want to see you again.” You hadn’t come here with the intention of being needlessly cruel, but you needed to make Billy understand that things between you were finished. “When you care about someone you don’t go out of your way to make them feel cheap - Oh, wait, that’s right, you’re not capable of caring about anyone, are you?”

There was a flicker of hurt on his face but he was quick to recover.

“How long was it?” He asked. “How long had you gone without being fucked before me? Years, I’m guessing. You think you can go back to that after a night in my bed?”

“Who says I’m going back to that?” You answered back, and Billy didn’t like it one bit.

“You think you’re gonna find anyone who can make you feel the way I did?” Billy gave a huff of laughter, shaking his head. Some part of you knew he was right, that nothing would ever be like the night you shared, but you were angry and you weren’t going to let him win.

“Guess I’ll just have to find out,” you shrugged and his gaze darkened. “I suggest you do the same, Billy.”

“You think I haven’t tried?” He admitted angrily, and you felt like you’d just been punched in the stomach.

“What?” Rage and pain coiled inside you. Less than a week and he’d already tried to replace you. How long had it taken to fall into bed with the next one? You hated yourself for even daring to wonder. You wanted this, you wanted him to move on, but you never expected it to hurt so much. “So you dragged me here to tell me how much you want me after you’ve been fucking other women?”

“I didn’t fuck anyone. I couldn’t because of you,” and you could see just how angry that made him. “D’you think I want to feel like this? That I want to be stuck on the one woman in New York who doesn’t want me? Who doesn’t even want to use me? Have you got any idea how fucked up and broken you make me feel?”

There was a painful honesty in his words, something that he clearly saw as a weakness that needed to be overcome.

“You want to talk about feeling fucked up and broken, Billy? I told you from the start that I couldn’t do this, but you pushed and pushed until you got your way.” Your voice broke, betraying your pain, eyes desperately blinking as you tried to fight back tears. “You turned my whole fucking life upside down and now - now you’re telling me you only want me because you can’t fuck anyone else?”

Something in him seemed to break in that moment and whatever anger he’d been feeling washed away. He reached for you, fingers ghosting your cheek before you pulled away.

“Let me -”

“No, Billy. This has to stop, you have to let me move on.”

“No.”

“It’s not your choice to make.”

He took a breath and, for a second, he looked like he was going to relent. But, of course, he didn’t.

“So, that’s it? You’re gonna go fuck some random guy just to try and prove to yourself that you don’t want me as much as I want you?” His sharp tone was quick to return. “You’re gonna let some guy use you just to make a point?”

“If that’s what it takes, I -”

“Bullshit,” he shook his head, “we both know that’s not gonna happen.”

Were you really that predictable, that easy to read? Probably. He’d seen you panic, afterall. No. No. Billy-fucking-Russo didn’t get to dictate what you did or how you felt. You weren’t going to give him that power over you. No one got to have that power over you. Never Again.

Anger had you reaching out, slapping him before shoving him backwards, knocking him off balance. And, after that first stumble, you found yourself lashing out again and again, pushing Billy back across his office, and you didn’t stop until he made you. He took hold of your wrists, stopping you from pushing again.

“Fuck you!” You all but snarled at him as you struggled against his grip.

“That’s exactly what I’m asking you to do, sweetheart,” he answered back, tone matching yours.

“I’ll fuck whoever I want, Billy, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

He gave a sharp tug on your wrists, pulling your body against his.

“I told you before; you’ve got no idea what I’m capable of. I won’t let you” He was right, you didn’t, but you found yourself remembering what Krista told you, that he was dangerous. And you started to think that maybe she was right afterall.

“You can’t stop me.” All the while, trying to pull yourself from his grip.

“Yes I can. You’re mine and I don’t let anyone touch what’s mine, sweetheart.”

“I’m not yours,” and that was when the panic started to set it. You thrashed against his hold on you, lashing out and trying to knee him in the balls. He angled himself away from you, twisting your arms and managing to turn you so your back was pressed against him.

All you could think was that he’d never let you go, that this would be your life now, completely at his mercy. You’d have to leave New York to get away from him, you’d have to uproot your whole life again. He held tight, even as your feet lifted off the ground, kicking out as you struggled, desperate to get away from him.

“Let go!” The tears that you’d been trying to hold back soon started to fall.

“Not until you calm down,” you hated the concern in his voice - he didn’t get to worry about you, not when he was doing this. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“You’re hurting me!” You cried out in a strangled sob.

Billy let go of you suddenly and pulled away from you, realising that he’d fucked up. You took a few steps forward before you dared to turn back to him, and he looked broken, devastated by what he’d done. When you said he was hurting you, you meant in general, you meant the ache he caused in your chest, but Billy was looking at you terrified, like he’d done even more than that. For reasons you didn’t understand, it made your heart ache to see him like that.

“I didn’t -” he tried but there weren’t any words. Billy knew that he’d crossed a line, that he’d really fucked up. “I wasn’t trying to -”

“Just - just stop,” you finally managed, a hand clumsily trying to wipe away your tears.

“I can’t,” barely able to bring himself to look at you, “I don’t know what I did wrong. What was so bad that you can’t even bear to see me again? I don’t know how I fucked this up, you just left me and I don’t know why...”

“I -”

You hated that he was right, that you hadn’t even tried to see any of this from his point of view. This all could have been avoided if you’d done things a little differently; all the times you chose not to remind him it was just for a night, the way you’d slipped out without saying goodbye. How had he felt waking up to find you gone after the amazing night you’d shared? You hadn’t thought about it. Leaving him had been hard enough but, after everything, the least you could have done was leave a note.

What had been on his mind that night when he fell asleep wrapped around you? Had he dared to hope that he could convince you to stay? 

“What did I do?” He asked again. 

Nothing. Your night together had been perfect and it had meant so much to you.

“I thought you had a good time with me.”

“I did, but it was one night, Billy. I left because it was over.” You wanted to at least give him that, to let him know that it wasn’t him.

“It’s not over, not for me.” He dared to take a step forward, and you took a step back. The pain on his face was unbearable and it felt like everything you said only made it worse.

“It’s not a discussion, Billy. I told you this couldn’t go anywhere.” You took a few more steps, not stopping until you were by the door. “Don’t do this again. Just leave me alone. I’m not going to change my mind.”

“Yes you will.” Spoken like there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind.

“Goodbye, Billy.” You shook your head as you pulled the door open, not daring to look back, not daring to say anything else; you needed it to be over, you needed to get away from him. Thankfully, he let you leave without any fuss. But, as you made your way to the elevator and out of the Anvil building, his words kept replaying in your mind, and the more you thought about it, the angrier you got; the fact that he’d tried to move on so quickly while he thought you’d be stuck on him forever, the way he’d dared call you his when he didn’t even know you.

You finally managed to choke back your tears in the elevators and, by the time you were outside, you had your phone in your hand, texting Tammy - she’d mentioned a Halloween night out with some of Anvil’s new recruits and, suddenly, you were very interested in a night on the town. You were going to go out and you were going to prove Billy wrong.

But, you didn’t have anything to wear and that meant borrowing one of Tammy’s old Halloween outfits, all of which came with the prefix sexy. Of course you very quickly ruled out sexy nun, sexy nurse and sexy cop. And that left you with a sexy catwoman costume, consisting of a faux-leather bodysuit, cut a little low at the front, but it had long sleeves and came with a mask, so you could at least hide just how embarrassed you were. You managed to cover yourself up a little more with fishnet tights, a pair of knee high boots and a leather jacket.

At the start of the night Tammy was full of questions, wanting to know what had happened with you and Billy, and if it was going to affect her position at Anvil in any way. She knew that you’d spent the night with him, but that you’d snuck back into the apartment before six am. But, fortunately for you, once other people started showing up at the bar she lost interest in you. 

You started out in a little bar, drinking vodka and Redbull, and shots of tequila every time one was placed in front of you. Over a dozen people turned up, mostly Anvil trainee’s but a few of the office staff who worked with Tammy too. Including Michelle. But, aside from throwing you a shitty look, she stayed away, too distracted by the attention she was getting for her costume; a strapless white bodysuit, shirt cuffs, and bunny ears. It wasn’t long before the phones started coming out and people started taking pictures. You stayed in the background, enjoying your drink until it was time to move on to the club.

Before leaving the bar, you decided to dip into the bathroom, needing a moment to think about what you really wanted. Part of you just wanted to go home; you didn’t want to hook up with some random guy just to prove a point, but what other choice did you have? How else could you get Billy to finally let you go?

“I can’t believe Billy took her to the gala and not you,” the voice sounded vaguely familiar, one of Tammy’s friends. You froze, knowing that they were talking about you.

“He probably just wanted an easy lay,” Michelle. You held your breath, not even daring to move, even though some part of you wanted to storm out of the cubical and confront her. “But, tonight’s the night, I’m going to show Billy Russo just what he’s been missing out on.”

“He’s coming to the club?”

Fuck. 

“Look what I sent him,” you heard shuffling and remained completely silent, trying to figure out what was going on.

“Oh my God, you sent him a thirst trap and he fell for it.” They both laughed, finishing up whatever they’d been doing at the sink, their voices getting further away as they finally left the bathroom.

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry - after everything he’d told you, all it had taken was a picture of Michelle to have him moving on. Was he doing it to hurt you, you wondered. He knew how it had made you feel seeing him with her in your apartment. But, that was ridiculous. Billy didn’t even know that you were there. And you realised you could turn that to your advantage; if he saw you leave with another man, he’d have to admit that it was over between you...

CHAPTER EIGHT

END NOTES : With this one being a Halloween chapter, I decided to post it a little earlier than usual and will probably post the next part within the next week before we get too close to Christmas (and also because then hopefully the chapters that are set at Christmas will be posted at an appropriate time). Also I'm sorry everyone was so shitty to reader this chapter.

Thanks for reading!!

TAG LIST

@lincerad @sweetserendipity65 @rafaelakelley @slayerofthevampire @rensolodriver @lovelydoveval @doloreschanal @uncontainedsmiles @damagelove

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

not me doomposting about l*ona again

I pointed out in an older post that Leona seems to demonstrate a unique ability to unite others under a common cause. This is in spite of the lore stating that it's very difficult to get different kinds of beastmen to see eye-to-eye, so much so that Sunset Savanna's acting king, his older brother, has yet to really unify their people.

WELL.

***Spoilers for Leona's Nightmare Suit vignettes below the cut!***

A central theme to Leona's Nightmare Suit vignettes is figuring out what makes someone worthy of being "king". At the start, everyone is reminded of Jack Skellington's status as the "King of Halloween, which makes him the most important person in town. However, Leona's quick to point out that the title isn't what's important, but what one achieves is. He then expresses interest in what it is exactly that Jack Skellington does around here to earn his crown. His opinion of Jack isn’t that good; in the event story, Leona thinks Jack doesn’t pay attention and doubts that he can have deep thoughts. Jack describes his duties as making Halloween the scariest it can possibly be. He drives around in his buggy, walks his dog Zero through the local cemetery, studies and conducts experiments, and reviews the proposals from Halloween Town residents. An important part of his job is considering his people's ideas! But Leona thinks there could be a more efficient way to do this rather than having the king read the proposals one by one. We can see a divide between their ways of thinking; Jack is willing to hear individuals out whereas Leona is focused on efficiency. This is also reflected in how they assign tasks later in the vignettes. Jack has everyone going up one ladder to decorate, while Leona commands the witches to do this task, as its much faster for them to do on their brooms. I don't know if this was intentional, but the way Jack rules feels reminiscent to how Leona often describes his older brother, Farena/Falena. So often does Leona mention that Falena is too kind and cares too much for others, which impedes on the political and economic gains he could be making if he were just more focused on his goals. “[Falena] could just focus on the kingdom’s affairs–you know, his JOB–but nooo, he’s gotta be the caring big brother who’s nice to everybody." (If you want to read a more in-depth analysis of Falena vs Leona's priorities when it comes to ruling, please read this post.)

Leona claims that the qualifications for king around here are actually really simple--and yeah, maybe there's nothing more to his line than this, but considering that in his home country one's order of birth is also a strong determinant, a merit-based system like what's seen in Halloween Town probably is simpler to him. And that means it's his time to shine and be acknowledged when he wasn't successful at earning this recognition back home.

Now, what REALLY surprised me in these vignettes wasn't that Leona knows how to boss around his peers and put their strengths to use (for example, he tells Vil, who has an eye for detail, to look over the embroidery, and Idia, who is a science and math whiz, to handle difficult calculations). It's that Leona is also perfectly aware of the abilities of the Halloween Town residents--people he has only known for less than three days--and uses them and their skills well too. That's an insanely short amount of time to get to know an entire TOWN'S worth of people and what each of them are like... yet he just pulls it off effortlessly????? HUH... This earns him the praise of Dr. Finkelstein, the mayor, Jack, Sally, and Skully. Sally in particular highlights Leona's strengths very concisely, stating that he can accurately assess the situation and give appropriate directions on how to act in that situation. Skully adds that Leona technically doesn't move himself or do any of the dirty work, he's focused solely on giving orders. This makes him a "king" and a leader of equal standing as Jack Skellington. And then Skully--SKULLY, THE OBSESSED HALLOWEEN OTAKU THAT THINKS HALLOWEEN SHOULD BE A VERY SPECIFIC WAY--says that Halloween was made possible by not one, but two great kings this year. It just goes to show how much one can truly accomplish when not barred by a negative environment and a lack of social support.

One definition of "king" that is offered in these vignettes is "the one who can bring everyone together". That's certainly something that both Leona and Jack do, albeit in very different ways. But then, at the end of the Halloween Town segment of the vignettes, Leona acknowledges that "king" can be defined another way. He realizes that Jack is recognized as king not just because he's a leader, but because he's also needed and loved by the townspeople. This, too, is a "king". However, it seems that this is a definition that Leona somewhat looks down upon, as he basically apologizes to Jack for not thinking highly of him at first. Again, Leona prioritizes getting shit done, no matter what the cost of it may be--and even if it earns him the ire of others. This, as I said earlier, puts him in stark contrast to Jack, as well as his own older brother. But here and now, we have Leona finally seeing the strength that a different kind of ruling can have instead of always speaking so disparagingly about it. Even if it's just a little... it feels like he's growing and learning, doesn't it?

The vignettes end on flashing forward to Leona back at Savanaclaw dorm. A few of his freshmen students are goofing off right before magift/spelldrive practice is about to start. As soon as Leona shows up, the freshmen snap to attention and rush off to change for practice. Jack (Howl, not Skellington, lol) remarks that usually the other first years are so lazy, but their attitudes completely changed when their dorm leader appeared. Ruggie chimes in, saying that Leona keeps the entire dorm in line... THJBAEBVUFAEIYAFIOYBVADFILH ThEN HE CALLS THEIR KING THE BEST... AND JACK AGTREESS... WHAT DO YOU MEAN, SHUT THE FUCK UPAS ALREADY STOP POGINTONG OUT HE'S A AGOODFK leADER DFOR YOUE AEPEOPLE YADFJKHAFLIYVDGVYUADGVUEGAVN

In response to the praise, Leona says that simply scolding misbehaving students doesn't make you a king. If it were as simple as that, it would be a pretty cheap throne build only on flattery. The vignettes end with him telling everyone to move their asses to practice. lh WDBHFAIYOEAIYEIYF BUT TAHAT'S PRETY YMASSIVE FOR HS CHARACTER... These vignettes demonstrate that Leona's not fixated on the title of king, but what it means to truly "be" a king and leader. He doesn't value being called a "king" if he feels it's easily earned, he wants to prove himself worthy of it and earn that title through his talents. This all circles back to a thought I had a while ago: that what Leona is after isn't the literal seat of king, but all the things that come with it but was denied of in his childhood. Respect, admiration, recognition for his abilities.

And 💦 Leona doesn’t realize it yet (either that, or he’s in complete denial) but… He also fits that second definition of “king” 😭 He’s the type of person that gets things done (like what he believes should define a king) BUT GIS DORM MEMBERS ALL ALSO NEED AND LOVE HIM…

OOoogohoggoOGH... OTL I hate how well it comes together...

[falbrightsplace]

A Riddler Drabble that'll become something more in the future

Gotham in autumn was a grim reminder of the proliferation of costumed crime. Halloween was less a celebration of whimsy in some faded lithograph addressed to the ways of yore and more a ghoulish pyre drawing its worst in to flail in some sordid, horrid dance. It was a time one Edward Nygma often looked longingly at rail passes to Metropolis, where he could safely lie under the auspices of its guardian angel until Julian or Joker or Crane might calm themselves following a war of attrition over what may as well be a bucket of sweets and a broken clavicle. Or an unhinged jaw. Compound fracture? Often. Nasty little things that were meant as deterrents to the miscreants of this city…

The thoughts were escaping him once more. Bleeding into the dense atmosphere, like a soup, even several stories off the ground. What the investigator, yes, investigator thought was that particular line; the very one above? Applied when he hadn’t yet powdered his nose at the vanity of “decent” society. Decent society, a demanding little beast, oft frowned at the thought of a reputable business owner ducking out for a full season when he had already taken on a full docket of case files (private and public matters alike). After all, a craven member of Arkham’s menagerie for the criminally insane would be fully expected to run with his tail between his legs like the rodent that the average Gothamite took him for. And while that suited Eddie fair in days of yore (after all, a rat could run a maze, the average work-a-day Joe? The odds started dwindling rather quickly), he now had to stay on this particularly twisted iteration of the Titanic. Ever sinking into the crumbling New Jersey shoreline.

Why, it even had its very own iceberg. – A fact that served to curl his lip authentically. Authentically as opposed to the perfunctory, nigh on permanent smirk he wore to ward off anyone from thinking he much cared for what was being said beyond passing fancy or amusement. And yet wasn’t that what all this dressing was? The roving road to this very moment with nary a mote of intent established.

Passing fancy. Something to wile away the time.

Which is what The Riddler needed. Posting his cane at the base of the searchlight, the well dressed (former) saboteur and public nuisance flipped through a pocketbook in one hand and idly let his finger pass over the arrangement of a game of Solitaire. Occasionally he would mutter under his breath. It would be any number of things: a riddle, case notes, some errant detail about the exact positioning of coffee upon one Jim Gordon’s desk suggesting that files were being moved throughout the department at a breakneck speed. Consequential and inconsequential all at once. It was a maelstrom of information that quietly roiled beneath a bowler and shock of ginger hair, only disturbed by the occasional chuckle or sigh.

It was only when he heard that familiar, near silent, arrival that his gaze broke and the world seemed to move forward. This was a distinct noise you only became accustomed to in one of two privileged positions: ally or prey. Eddie Nygma’s lips parted, a slight gap in his teeth greeting a grim old friend with some mustered fanfare. Snatching his marshal’s baton, glistening in the light of The Signal, that lanky form sprung to polished heels.

“Rough night?” He leered, weight shifting as he posted himself upon that brass question mark, giving it a harsh rap upon the ground. “Or do you always keep your allies waiting when this,” with a click of his tongue, he ran a gloved finger over the frame of that overblown nightlight, “Lovely behemoth roars to life, calling to you from whatever murky depths you descend into during the day, hm? I hear the banking district is quite the slice of paradi-”

“I don’t make a habit of playing your games, Edward.” The words carried heft, as if ready to drop upon the recipient’s skull like a hammer.

“The record speaks to an entirely different story, Detective.” With a flourish, Eddie began to circle the Batman. Almost as if entering into the first steps of a waltz they both knew all too well. “But why dwell on the old when we can focus on the new? So here’s a real brain teaser for you: Why, oh why, would Edward Nygma, P.I. be given the rites to pass unto these hallowed grounds and flip that switch?”

The air stagnated, acrid as those piercing white eyes of the cowl narrowed.

“Surely even a sour soul such as yourself would want to get to the bottom of this particularly thorny thicket.” With a flash of something thinly resembling a smile, the career flim flam man inspected his fingers. Always something to do. Always something to distract or misdirect. A keenly honed ploy so deeply ingrained at this point that not even Nygma was aware to the fact that he often benefited from employing that smokescreen upon his own beleaguered mind.

“The sudden outbreak of copycat crimes. Starting in the old boroughs and working into the newly renovated portions of the banking district. Chief among them empty facsimiles of Ivy’s. The victims have been strung in a manner by which she would hold her prey until they had fully heard the breadth of their crimes.” There was a pause, with only the slightest shift in the vigilante’s jaw. “Toxicology reports don’t match any known patterns. And the targets, while obvious, wouldn’t serve as anything more than distractions. We both know she’s efficient.”

“Just like it’s a known fact that you’ve been trying to subdue that habit of yours. Going so far as to go on the record that it’s ‘all in the past’. You can’t give it up.” The Batman may have refused to kill but with a word he had shoved another dagger between Nygma’s ribs and rattled it about. That was part of the dance, too.

“What can I say, Bats?” A sickly guffaw managed to dribble past his lips alongside some of the wind knocked from him. “You inspire me. Bring out my best.” Shifting that lithe bit of weight, the more bombastic detective attempted nonchalance as the remedy to regain his footing. “Just...like I’ve always done for you.” Brow creasing, a delighted chuckle disappeared into the misty air as he jabbed a finger in the Dark Knight’s direction. “But really, if you want to play games the key to any answer in a riddle is something succinct. Right now?” Hands wheeling, Edward crept closer. “Right now, it comes off like you’re talking to a colleague in the department.” -Satisfying-. Gratifying.

[astarioffsimpmain]

Halloween in Waterdeep

Gale Dekarios x F!Reader (called "Tav" once)

Synopsis: Tav thinks Gale's tower might be haunted; Gale has an answer for it. But is it the right one?

Author's Note: Happy Halfway to Halloween, everyone! Since people celebrate "Half-o-ween" anywhere from April 30th through May 2nd, I'll hopefully be posting a few more Halloween themed fics in the coming days! But for now, enjoy this fluffy Gale fic. <3

*Extra Info: Some of this fic is stretched a little beyond what is canon, I am aware and did it on purpose to suit my idea. However, what I did research for canon-alignment purposes is that Faerunian "October' is commonly known as Leaffall, and the holiday at the end of Leaffall is called Liar's Night, which is essentially Faerunian Halloween, or Samhain. It's on the 30th day of Leaffall and it's common to dress up in disguises to avoid the attention of the deities known as Leira and Mask.

"Gale, are you certain your tower isn't haunted?" You scrunched your knees up to your chest as you sat in the very center of Gale’s large four poster bed. The wizard was sitting merely feet away at his desk grading papers, but he still seemed too far away for your liking, your earlier experience in the tower while he was away for work still lurking in the shadows of your mind. 

"I'm quite certain, my love. I lived here by myself with only Tara for an entire year and never experienced anything of the… phantasmic nature. That is, unless the spirits of the mice Tara has disposed of in that time have returned for justice." He chuckled to himself, and normally you would chuckle with him, but your fear currently outweighed your humor and you huffed instead. 

Your frustration caught his attention and the pen he was holding went down. He turned to you in his chair and appraised your balled-up position on the bed. You looked so small and helpless, and he couldn’t help but feel guilty for teasing you. Pushing himself up, he made his way to you, the urge to wrap his arms around you and make you feel safe again superseding all of his professor duties for the time being. You came first; you always had, and you always would. 

You reached for him as he climbed up onto the bed, and he gathered you up in his arms, pulling you close to his chest where the marks of the orb still lay in harmless divets and grooves along his skin. The hair that grew there scratched your cheek as you nuzzled into him, and you found comfort in the familiar sensation. 

"Alright. Tell me what happened and we'll see what we can do. If it is a spirit, I know several incantations that will allow us to speak to them and safely move them along. If it's something else, we've fought worse, I'm sure. Yes?" He cupped your cheeks in his warm hands and lifted your face, forcing you to meet his tender eyes. 

You nodded, determination returning to you now that you had the confidence of your fiancé again. "Alright," you began, walking back through the experience in your mind. "I was in the kitchen downstairs making coffee, and I heard a thumping noise behind me. I knew you were at Blackstaff, so naturally, my first guess was Tara, so I called out to her as I turned around, but she wasn't there. I looked all around the kitchen for her but she was nowhere to be found. Finally, I found her in your study, curled up asleep. So, I figured it must have been an animal of some sort inside the walls. It happened a few more times when I returned to the kitchen, but I ignored it as best I could in favor of my task. But then, something happened that I simply could not ignore. The spice cabinet door flung open by itself! I was shocked, of course, as none of the windows were open - for the gods' sakes, it's the 26th day of *Leaffall, it's chilly out there. I stared at it in shock, then it closed right back! I cast Detect Magic, as you taught me to do, and came up empty handed. That is not the first odd occurrence that has befallen me, Gale. In the last week alone, there have been numerous times in which I've felt like I'm being watched or heard strange, unexplainable noises in the tower."

Gale shook his head, a smile slowly creeping across his face. "I do believe I know what's going on here." 

"Oh?" You quirked a confused eyebrow at him. 

"In the days leading up to *Liar's Night, some Waterdhavians pull pranks around their houses to confuse the deities of Leira and Mask. They wear wooden necklaces so their magic cannot be detected while they have their fun. Then as you know, on Liar's Night, we all don disguises to keep those deities from showing us any special attention. Well, in the year Tara and I spent alone here, Tara did her best to keep my spirits up in any way she could in that dark time, including pull pranks on me during Leaffall. I suspect she's doing the same to you as a sort of… welcome to the Dekarios family. Let's ask her, shall we?"

You nodded, finding yourself both relieved and irritated at the Tressym for tricking you. Gale led you from your shared room and led you to the study, where Tara was bedded down next to one of Gale’s many bookshelves. "So, Tara." Your fiancé's voice was deceptively casual, but you heard - and you were certain Tara did too - the undercurrent of annoyance laced in his tone. "Playing pranks on my fiancée for Leaffall, hm? You truly startled her, my friend, and I do hope you will apologize."

"Mr. Dekarios," Tara tried to interject, but Gale continued without pause.

"By all the gods, she thought the tower was haunted!"

"Mr. Dekarios…" another failed attempt. 

"I very much want my wonderful fiancée to feel safe in her new home, and-"

"Mr. Dekarios, for heaven's sake it wasn't me!" the tressym screeched and flapped her wings indignantly. Gale, at last, halted in his tracks and furrowed his eyebrows, the creases on his forehead deepening in displeasure. 

"Tara, are you being totally honest with me?" He said, his voice stern, and you stepped up behind him, laying a hand on his tense shoulder. He breathed out slowly, relaxing under your touch. "I apologize, Tara, Tav." He nodded to both of you in turn, then fully turned to you, taking your hands in his own. "I just- I can't stand the thought of you not feeling safe here with me. So, Tara, please, if it was you, just tell m-"

Thud

All three heads whipped around suddenly as a loud, clear thudding sound came from the wall of the study behind them. "Gods above, what kind of anim-"

Thud Thud 

"Gale-"

Thud Thud Thud 

"Mr. Dekarios-!" 

BANG!

Books flew off the bookshelves and piled unceremoniously into the floor as the wall cracked open with a blinding light for several seconds before a woman was revealed standing in the study with them. The crack of light closed as though it had never been there in the first place, and the woman, giggling gleefully, cast a spell to return the books to their rightful places. You took glances between the strange woman and Gale, whose jaw had fallen slack. But after several seconds of uncharacteristic silence, all was revealed.

"Mother?!" 

.

.

.

fin

Tagging Darlings: @knightofmight01

( If you'd like to be on the taglist for all my writing, please DM or send in an ask! Thank you for supporting me, and Happy Half-o-ween! <3 )

[misc-obeyme]

Okay. I decided to do a little headcanon post for Flufftober, so here it is. Except that it turned out to be CRAZY LONG. I did not expect that. I was gonna post all the characters in one post, but that seems excessive. So instead, I'm gonna post them separately as usual and just link to the other part. I will be posting the rest of the characters shortly!

The theme here is a masquerade party... well don't worry, there's an explanation about what's going on. I dunno I just got the idea and thought it'd be fun to write and then got carried away as usual. I tried to keep them brief, but here we are.

FLUFFTOBER 2023

GN!MC x the demon brothers

Warnings: none that I can think of??

It was an October night in the Devildom and the House of Lamentation was hosting a Halloween masquerade ball. The main hall had been decorated splendidly in oranges, purples, and blacks. An entire feast was laid out, the table full of dishes contributed to the party by Barbatos and Simeon. The room was dark, lit mostly by orbs of orange light, enchanted to float through the air by Solomon. On a small stage there was a live band playing a mix of lively and slow creepy music. The dance floor was filled with demons, all of whom were unrecognizable…

Due to the masquerade theme, special masks had been made for each attendee. They were made by Satan and Asmodeus, working together to create magical masks that would completely obscure each party goer's appearance. Once they put on the mask, a glamor fell over them that transformed them and made them unrecognizable. Every glamor costume was black and incorporated a look involving fancy suits, flowing dresses, and probably too many sequins.

The party organizers all knew what each other's mask-generated costumes looked like. Everyone had been present when Asmo revealed his designs. Everyone… except you. You had insisted on creating your own glamor and thus hadn't been present to see everyone else's.

Now you stood in the middle of this masquerade party, unable to recognize a single person.

And yet you knew that the person you wanted to see most was in the room somewhere. And after a small amount of time, you were certain you had figured out who it was. You made a bold move and asked them to dance. While you were in their arms, they told you to meet them somewhere specific later, when the party was winding down. You agreed and spent the rest of the night exchanging looks with them, anticipating the moment when you would be alone with them.

Had you chosen the correct person? Did you know them well enough that you could determine their identity when their appearance was so altered? And more importantly… did they know who you were?

Lucifer

It was his bearing. The way Lucifer held himself was undeniable. There was nothing about the fancy suit that tipped you off - no bits of blue or red, no feathers, no indication at all that it was Lucifer. Even his eyes were turned pure black by the glamor. And yet, when he looked at you, it was like you could feel the ruby red that hid beneath.

When he asked you to meet him in the music room later, you were even more convinced. Of course that would be Lucifer's choice. When you arrived, the sound of the party music still playing softly in the distance, he smiled and took your hand. A little piece of you doubted, wondered if he could truly detect you behind your mask.

His fingers ran along the edge of the mask that covered your face. "Do you trust me, MC?"

Even his voice was altered by the magic. You shuddered. What if it wasn't him?

Though, would Lucifer really make such a mistake? Would Lucifer let someone else lead you astray?

You let out a breath. "Yes."

Lucifer put his arms around you, pulling you close, and pressing his lips to yours. The masks bumped slightly against each other as you gasped into his lips.

When Lucifer pulled away enough to remove his mask, a relief flooded through you at the familiar curves of his face.

"How did you know it was me?" you asked.

Lucifer smirked at you. "You couldn't help yourself, could you? You were by my side most of the night. And when you weren't, I could feel your eyes on me."

You blushed, but Lucifer only chuckled and kissed you again.

Mammon

He didn't know who you were at all, but the minute you got close enough, you could feel it. A sense of protection that you could only feel in the presence of your guardian demon. He may not know who you were, but you knew him. He was in full on party mode when you asked him to dance with you. He seemed uncertain, likely thinking about you, but he accepted.

Something in his demeanor changed while you danced. His uncertainty fell away and he asked you to meet him out by the front door. You thought this was kind of an odd choice, but you agreed. Later, you slipped out the front door as requested and everything fell into place.

He was leaning against his Demonio 666 Lexura, mask still on, smiling at you.

You laughed a little at how pleased he seemed. You walked down the stairs to the street, stopping right in front of him and reaching out to remove his mask.

There was the familiar face you knew so well - blue-gold eyes shining, white hair bright in the darkness.

"Ya wanna ditch this party and go for a ride?" he asked.

You put your arms around his neck. "You didn't know me at first. How did you figure it out?"

Mammon put his hands on your waist. "Like I wouldn't recognize your dance moves."

Your laugh was smothered as he kissed you. He opened your door for you and you got into his car. He kept a hand on your thigh as he drove into the Devildom night, the yellow moon high in the October sky.

Leviathan

He gave himself away by bringing a handheld video game console to the party. It stuck out of his pocket when he wasn't using it and when he was, he was hunched over in a corner somewhere, the little bleeps and bloops adding a humorous quality to the music in the room.

When you came over to him, Leviathan looked annoyed that someone was interrupting him. He frowned at you for a moment and then became nervous when you asked him to dance. He tried to get out of it, but you didn't listen, dragging him by the hand onto the dance floor. You proceeded to incorporate some dance moves from the latest music video of Sucre Frenzy and suddenly Levi's attitude changed. He wasn't trying to hide who he was and asked you to meet him in his room.

When you knocked on the door later, Levi opened it, mask already discarded. He looked at you, still in your glamor and said, "Th-that's you, isn't it, MC?"

You removed your mask and smiled at him.

Levi sagged against the door for a minute before opening it wide to let you in. "I was so nervous! I thought maybe you were someone else who happened to be intimately familiar with Sucre Frenzy's dance moves!"

You laughed and hugged him, patting his back reassuringly. "I'm pretty sure we're the only ones who know those moves that well. That music video only came out a couple days ago."

Levi pulled back to look at you, pride evident in his orange eyes. "You did them flawlessly."

You blushed a little and pulled on his clothes to bring him closer. "You weren't too bad yourself."

Levi kissed you to hide his own blush, but you still saw it quite clearly.

Satan

You were standing among a group of demons, listening to their idle chatter. You had no idea who any of them were, of course, but they seemed to be discussing the merits of various cafes in the Devildom. This was a fairly benign topic until one of them brought up cat cafes. You noticed the minute the demon beside you began to ramble at length about the benefits of cat cafes. It quickly devolved into what sounded like a dissertation on the positive qualities of cats in general. As the others quickly excused themselves, you laughed and asked Satan to dance with you.

Satan seemed reluctant at first because he wasn't sure who you were right away. But when he stopped rambling and really took you in - your demeanor, the soft smile of fondness on your face - he accepted your request. During the song, he seemed to feel certain of your identity and asked you to meet him in the library later.

You had expected Satan to be deep in a book when you arrived, but instead he was watching the door. He took several steps toward you when you came in.

"I thought you might not come, MC," he admitted.

Your heart squeezed and you removed your mask. "Why wouldn't I?"

Satan took off his own mask. "I thought your attention might have been drawn elsewhere."

You closed the distance between you and looked into his eyes, now their usual mixture of greens and blues. "You say that as though I've been able to think about anyone other than you."

Satan wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in to kiss you.

Asmodeus

It was in the sensual way he moved, how he lightly teased everyone he came into contact with, the boldness he seemed to gain from the fact that nobody knew who he was. All of these things tipped you off, but when Asmodeus stopped to look at himself in a mirror, lingering a little too long than anyone else might have, your suspicion was confirmed.

To your surprise, Asmo already seemed to know who you were, too. You didn't even have the chance to ask him to dance because he asked you first. You thought maybe he was just asking anyone and everyone, that it wasn't because he knew you. But when he asked you to meet him in the garden later, you were suddenly uncertain. Did he know you or not?

When you arrived in the garden, Asmo was looking up at the yellow moon. He heard you approach and turned around, giving you a dazzling smile.

He spread his hands, the offer of a hug. "There you are, darling!"

You considered him. You still weren't sure if he knew who you were.

Asmo giggled. "Oh, do you think I don't know you? Silly thing."

Asmo walked up to you, placed his fingers on your mask, and leaned in close. "No amount of glamor could hide you from me, MC."

You shivered. Asmo took off your mask and removed his as well, tossing them aside. Then he opened his arms again.

You stepped into them easily, pressing yourself against his body, and meeting his lips with yours.

Beelzebub

The glamor obscured Beelzebub's size and height - the things that normally made him almost impossible to miss. And maybe it would have made it difficult for you to find him in different circumstances. But this was a party. And there was food. You watched the buffet table for some time, waiting to see who never left it or who ate most of it themselves.

When you asked Beel to dance, he accepted immediately, which surprised you. As the two of you danced, you tried to figure out if he knew you or not. He seemed comfortable with you, but it wasn't any different than how Beel was with most people. And then he asked you to meet him at the planetarium. Perhaps you had gotten it wrong? Was there another hungry demon at this party? Was it actually Belphie you were dancing with?

You arrived at the planetarium, feeling uncertain about just who it was you were meeting.

When he saw you, Beel took off his mask, completely eliminating your concern. He smiled at you, the same sweet smile that made your stomach flutter. "Hi, MC."

You shook your head slightly and took off your own mask. "Why did you ask me to come to the planetarium?"

Beel looked up at the planetarium and pointed at the moon. It had an unusual yellow cast to it. "Belphie likes the planetarium. And right now the moon looks like a big wheel of cheese."

You laughed. He wasn't wrong. You took Beel's hands and turned him toward you. "I should've known."

Beel smiled again and kissed you.

Belphegor

Belphegor was eluding you. You had already spent a significant amount of the party looking for a sleeping demon, but you couldn't find one. Everyone you saw was fully awake and nobody even seemed to be slightly nodding off. He must have found a small hiding place to fall asleep and that was why you didn't see him anywhere.

You nearly jumped when you felt a hand on your back. When you turned, a demon smiled at you and asked you to dance with him. There was something about this quiet demon's demeanor that made you suspect it was Belphie. Where had he even come from? And was it really him? You allowed him to lead you out onto the dance floor. He asked you to meet him in the garden later and you felt compelled to agree. If it wasn't Belphie, you could always just leave.

Once you were in the garden, you found him standing there, waiting quietly. He was looking up at the sky, which was full of the yellow moon and a dramatic scattering of stars.

"The stars are beautiful tonight aren't they, MC?" he asked.

All doubts fled your mind then. You stood beside him and looked up, resting your head on his shoulder. "They're lovely, Belphie."

Belphie turned to you, easily slipping an arm around your waist and removing your mask. He stayed still as you took his off, too.

"You weren't sure it was me," he said.

You shrugged. "You look wide awake, that's all."

Belphie smirked. "I was on edge waiting to do this," he said.

You were about to ask what that meant, but he cut you off with a kiss.

part 2 with the rest of the characters

flufftober | kinktober | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

taglist: @anxious-chick @t0tallycoolname @libidinous-weeb

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC’s Lucien - Castle Date - English Translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

"Give me your heart."

I place my fingertips on the black heart on his chest as I lean forward–

The black hue underneath my palm gradually fades away, replaced by a red glow identical to the gemstone on my chest.

When someone's heart is taken, they become the Queen's loyal and devoted toy.

However, only a Queen bound by shackles can take someone else's heart.

Translation under the cut!

T/N: This date has a theme that is a kind of continuation to his latest solo SSR Strategy Game Date. So please read it if you haven’t!

Special thanks to ivi (@ivioivioivi on twitter) for helping me with the translation of this date~

✂———————–

[Subbed Video]

✂———————–

[Transcript Ver]

=[Part 1]=

?? (Lucien): [narrating] "Once upon a time, there was a queen who ruled the whole kingdom."

?? (Lucien): "The Queen had many, many toys. She lived in a castle and lived with her toys."

?? (Lucien): "At the Halloween party, the Queen was so bored! So… she decided to play a new game."

?? (Lucien): "She gathered all the toys and told them to find what they desired most in their hearts within the castle."

?? (Lucien): "'The first toy to find it can gain freedom.' The Queen sat on her throne and announced to all the toys."

?? (Lucien): "But how could the Queen possibly know what each toy desired the most?"

?? (Lucien): "Of course... because the Queen knows everything!"

Lucien: "Now then... let the game begin. But be warned, don't get caught by the Queen during your search…"

Lucien: "...or you'll never be able to leave this castle for the rest of your life——"

MC: [sweating nervously] Lucien, wait... just hold on a second! Let's talk about it after we run to a safe place!

Eerie and urgent footsteps circle endlessly behind as if crazed hands are about to reach out from the darkness, savagely seizing everything.

I don't have time to immerse myself in the joy that lit up my eyes upon finding Lucien as I instinctively obey my fear and start to run.

But the person beside me remains calm and unhurried, smiling as if he's just taking a stroll in an ancient castle.

Lucien: I hope my task requirements haven’t made you feel troubled.

Lucien: My identity card says I need to finish telling this story within 5 minutes of meeting another player.

As his words fall, along with the hurried footsteps behind me, a short but slightly piercing alarm sounds from somewhere unknown.

Lucien: [chuckles] Otherwise, my game will be declared a failure.

The alarm sounds again.

MC: What does this alarm mean...? Did what you just said violate the rules on the identity card?

He smiles without a word, seeming to agree with my judgment.

MC: This is a bit too immersive! Why doesn’t my identity card have any tasks on it?

Despite my complaints, my running footsteps don't stop, and the silent doors repeatedly block my escape routes.

We twist and turn through the old castle until a "click" rings out, nearly making me cry in surprise.

The eerie footsteps grow louder beside my ear. The soles of the shoes rub against the slightly worn carpet, making a rough scraping sound, like sharp nails scratching against my eardrum.

In the darkness, I hold my breath, and that nerve-wracking sound seems to slowly fade away into the night.

I let out a breath of relief, and as I look up, I bump straight into a pair of deep, enigmatic eyes.

The room is cloaked in darkness, illuminated only by the moonlight, yet his eyes, glimmering with a hidden smile, shine even brighter.

The smoky black makeup extends into delicate marks of mischief, like dried tear stains or the playful strokes of a child’s crayon.

His usually soft hair is now slicked back, the ends styled into slightly unruly arcs that accentuate his sharp jawline.

The black and white suit amplifies the elegant yet bizarre aura, yet it feels perfectly natural on Lucien.

MC: This place did an incredible job with the styling. Once we’re done, I’m definitely filling my entire album with photos of Mr. Jester.

This Halloween, Lucien and I booked a super popular immersive escape room game. Although it’s only for two players, the activity spans an entire large castle.

The script for the game is assigned based on a playing card drawn a week before the game starts. It focuses on a highly immersive experience, and I’ve heard there are dozens of different endings depending on players' choices.

[T/N: Since the script is based on playing cards. Lucien himself might have drawn the Joker card. However, since there's already another Joker in the game, my translation goes with Mr. Jester 😂. In many card games, the Joker acts as a wild card, so I think Lucien getting this role fits with his character 👀]

MC: No, I should say I never expected the 'Queen's toys' to be so plentiful and appealing—and there's also Mr. Jester!

Lucien: I think it's this beautiful doll lady before me that truly makes it impossible to look away.

Our bodies, already pressed together from hiding, are pulled even closer by him. His warm fingertips stroke my cheek, then trail slowly down my neck in a delicate caress.

Lucien: [whispers] The Queen has instructed the toys to seek what they desire most in their hearts. If it were me...

Lucien: ...then surely what I desire most must be right here before my eyes.

=[Part 2]=

Of course, those are just Lucien’s jesting words to tease me. The game is still going on after all.

After my makeup is finished, the staff simply tells me that my identity is ‘Miss Puppet’ and then leads me into the old castle.

If we are all so-called ‘Queen's Toys’, then according to the fairy tale Lucien just recounted…

MC: "Find what the toys desire most in their hearts within this castle…"

MC: That means we need to find the props in this castle that correspond to our identities, and then we should be able to win the game.

But then I have second thoughts, and look at Lucien who is being a bit too mysterious on the side.

MC: "The first toy to find it can gain freedom."

MC: Does that mean that in this game with just the two of us, there can only be one winner?

Meeting my gaze, he leans lightly against the door and smiles lightly.

Lucien: Does this doll lady want to gain freedom?

Lucien's words aren't laced with much emotion; instead, they hold a kind of faint scrutiny and enjoyment that stands outside of winning and losing. 

It seems that more than victory or defeat, he takes pleasure in the interesting developments he's "created" throughout this whole process.

Enveloped by his permeating silent arrogance, I, on the contrary, subtly curl the corners of my lips into a smile and lean closer to him.

MC: Compared to freedom, I'd rather not let a certain Mr. Jester get too bored.

MC: Furthermore, I enjoy a challenge and am prepared to put in all my effort to win.

I gently graze his cheek with my fingertips, letting myself sink into the depths of his profound and mysterious eyes.

MC: You better be a bit more serious, okay?

MC: Otherwise... be careful not to get left behind in this castle~

Lucien: …

His eyes seem to freeze for a fleeting moment, but they fill with even more smiles in the next instant.

Lucien: [chuckles] Then this Miss Puppet will have to put in a lot of effort.

Lucien: After all, leaving you all alone in the castle would make me feel terribly lonely.

✂———————–

After issuing a ‘declaration of challenge’, naturally, it's necessary to seek more information.

But this castle is much larger than I imagined. Even though many rooms can't be opened, it'll still take considerable time to investigate the rest.

At the same time, the occasional sounds of clockwork and footsteps add a touch of horror to this dilapidated old castle.

The sounds of footsteps varied, sometimes intense and frightening, and at other times merely a soft, creeping rustle across the floor, creating noises that grate on the nerves.

Lucien: Looks like the party is going well.

MC: This means... the other 'toys' are also searching for things that are important to them, right?

Facing my interpretation, Lucien curls his lips without a word. At this moment, I finally vaguely confirm a certain boundary to Lucien's words.

In our earlier exchanges, there were two instances where he clearly mentioned the task settings for ’this game,' which triggered warning alarms both times.

Moreover, throughout all his interactions and expressions, he has been entirely restricted to addressing me as a 'puppet'.

This indicates that although I still can't further confirm what prop Lucien desires as the ‘Jester’, his words are still an important way for me to obtain information.

MC: Mr. Jester, shall we cooperate for the time being?

MC: There are a lot of rooms here. Given that we don't have much information, I think working together would be more efficient.

MC: There should be other rooms we can open on this floor. How about we each take half and then combine the information?

Lucien: You trust me that much?

Just as his voice falls, a sharp warning sound rings again.

Lucien freezes momentarily, ponders for a while, then nonchalantly lifts his lips into a smile as he looks at me, seemingly waiting for my answer.

MC: Indeed, if you hide any information, I wouldn't notice it.

MC: But luck also plays a part in the outcome. Whoever finds the key clue naturally has the conditions for victory.

MC: Besides, who’s to say it won’t be me hiding the information instead?

Lucien: …

Under the moonlight, Lucien smiles as he leans down and gently lifts my fingertips.

Lucien: Please allow me to apologize for my recent discourtesy.

The moment his thin lips lightly touch the back of my hand, I feel as if I can hear the sound of my heartbeat.

Lucien: Good luck to you, beautiful Miss.

✂———————–

Accompanied by chilling footsteps, Lucien and I begin searching the castle.

Most of the rooms I can access are incredibly shabby, but fortunately, I'm still managing to gather a number of clues.

Using clues from the diaries of some other toys, I quickly identify several key-seeming props mentioned in them and hide those props.

MC: I found a page from a fairy tale, and the content matches what you said earlier.

MC: But it's been ripped out of a book, which means there's a complete version of the story.

Lucien: According to the map, this villa has three floors. The first floor consists of the lobby, reception room, and toy display room, while the Queen’s bedroom is on the third floor.

Lucien: The second floor is fairly special. It has dozens of rooms, and the room numbers aren't in order.

MC: I have a feeling those rooms belong to the toys.

As I speak, I unfurl half of the kraft paper scroll towards him, revealing the words "Toy List".

The paper is filled in symbols of various shapes that look like a child's freehand doodles, each with numbers like "201", "205", "219" written beside them.

MC: There are 13 of these symbol and number combinations, so I'm guessing...the Queen has 13 toys in total.

MC: Corresponding to the 13 rooms on the second floor.

Lucien: It seems our objectives have become quite clear.

MC: That's right. Once we figure out which symbols correspond to which toy, we can use the map to find the rooms.

MC: Do you think... that 'Toy Display Room' might have the answers?

Faced with this probing question, Lucien doesn't respond but simply looks at me deeply as I shake the kraft paper.

In the next second, he lightly flicks his fingers––

A silver key sways and gleams faintly beneath the moonlight.

Lucien: I’m curious too.

I never thought that Lucien would just happen to have the key to the toy display room in his hand.

However, in this kind of adversarial game, having one more condition to compete with him is never bad.

And now, I’m indeed lucky to have made the right bet.

The night seems to grow even darker, and the eerie footsteps cast long, strange shadows, flowing like water past our feet, then slowly fading away.

With a 'click' sound, I follow behind Lucien and walk into the toy display room.

Only the moonlight remains inside the room, falling onto the staggered display stands, where toys of various shapes are placed.

The toys sit quietly in this somewhat rundown room as if they are waiting for someone.

I gently pick up the toys and notice that each has a familiar symbol emblazoned on its body and a heart-shaped hollow on its chest.

I quietly ponder for a moment, and instead of saying anything, I continue searching.

Soon I spot a puppet on the display table at the edge of the room, dressed in the same clothes as mine, except this puppet has a wooden puppet control bar and strings attached to it.

MC: …Wooden control bar?

An inexplicable 'click' sound occurs when I pick up the puppet.

I look at the symbol on the doll in my hand with confusion, my mind spinning.

Is it a similar doll? Or is there another reason? Thinking this, I open the scroll and begin searching for clues.

Suddenly, I freeze.

No matter how many times I check, I can't find the same symbol as the one on the puppet.

But after cross-checking the symbols with the other toys in front of me, I subconsciously hold my breath——

Dachshund spring toy, toy soldier, plush bird, roly-poly toy, carousel, feather pen…

The 13 symbols on the toy list correspond precisely to the 13 toys.

My gaze slowly moves to the figure under the moonlight; the master's smooth fingertips carefully caress the marionette that looks like me.

Then, as if sensing something, he indifferently looks back.

There is no jester toy in this room.

=[Part 3]=

The missing jester, the extra marionette.

At this moment, Lucien and I seem like some kind of aberrant existence.

Neither of us is the Queen’s toy—I immediately come to this judgment.

Then who am I? And who is Lucien?

Could it be that he secretly hid some more important information?

Meanwhile, Lucien also seems to have realized my judgment.

But he still unhurriedly fiddles with the marionette in his hand while gracefully walking up the steps.

Lucien: The Queen hosts a fun-filled party with all her toys.

Lucien: The toys search for what they desire most—ah, it’s their beloved Queen.

He gives a small bow, and as his words fall, a red balloon floats out of nowhere.

I unconsciously grab it, only to see more and more red balloons appearing, until eventually, all that remains are that pair of captivating eyes.

Lucien: So... ultimately, is it the Queen who captures the toys, or the toys who get the Queen?

His voice lingers near my ear, only to dissolve into the moonlit night instantly, along with his disappearing figure.

Following that, the sound of footsteps coming nearer and nearer, yet also more and more numerous.

I don't have time to consider when Lucien learned magic tricks; I immediately run out of the display room through the opened door. 

Those intrigued eyes are firmly imprinted in my mind. This person is playing this game with me very seriously; I can't let him down.

His identity as a jester is definitely not simple, and I... could I be the puppet representing the 'Queen'?

Lucien's words from just now seem to linger in my ears as if hinting. After thinking for a moment, I immediately run carefully toward the third floor.

I've been here before, but the door is firmly locked, and I never found the corresponding key.

Remembering the mechanical sound when I picked up the puppet, I can't help but decide to take a gamble.

Facing the silent door, I take a deep breath and press the door handle down with force—

'Click.'

MC: …As expected!

The pleasure of solving the puzzle makes me feel confident, and I go in cautiously.

The shabby room can't hide its luxury. The large bed is covered with an exquisite embroidered sheet, and the red velvet bed curtains reveal faint patterns.

The fireplace no longer burns, and the vase no longer shines, like servants who, though dejected after being left by their master, still maintain a dignified demeanor.

The walls, covered in cobwebs, are adorned with many picture frames.

But these frames don't contain any scenery or photos—

Instead, they contain all kinds of hearts, big and small. 

I quietly observe them for a long time before continuing to rummage through the room.

Soon, I find an old, yellowed book on the bedside table, with one page torn out.

With the help of light from the moon, I flip through it.

MC: "The Jester laughed loudly, proclaiming that the Queen was bored. She lifted the hem of her bright red dress and decided to play a game..."

MC: "A game of escape."

I realize in hindsight that something's not quite right.

Why is there a marionette with a wooden control bar and strings in the toy display room?

Marionette isn't on the toy list, so what does the symbol on it represent?

Suddenly, I freeze.

——it is Lucien's hint.

Just now, he guided me into thinking I was the Queen, leading me here. But if I really were the Queen, I would be very different from the one in the display room.

MC: As a toy… I'm a marionette.

MC: But the strings on me have already gone.

The toy’s escape is also the Queen’s escape.

At that moment, even though the room is clearly silent, I inexplicably feel as if someone is watching me.

From the very beginning, that gaze has been fixed on me, and all my actions are under his "control."

At this moment, I already understand who the owner of those footsteps outside the door is. After avoiding those searching "toys" and reaching the second floor—

there is a door that has always been tightly shut. Now, it opens its arms wide as if it has been waiting for a long time.

Scratches appear on the door, revealing a symbol identical to the one on the puppet's body.

I hold my breath tightly, expecting to see a familiar figure inside, but instead, I find the room completely empty.

To be safe, I close the door first and then step inside.

As expected, the entire room has already been searched.

A metal box lies on the ground, completely empty inside, with the opened lock quietly lying beside it.

[T/N: So the prop that Lucien needs—the strings and control bar, and possibly the marionette that looks like her—has already been taken by him.]

MC: ….

Am I really going to lose?

As if in response to my heart, the footsteps outside the door stop at the entrance with the sound of a clockwork.

At this moment, I understand why this door is open.

This is an invitation for ‘me’ to take the initiative to step into this cage controlled by him.

There's nowhere to go but through that door.

In the end, I have no choice but to take the initiative to open the door myself, offering myself as a sacrifice and presenting him with a delicious victory.

But I don't want to lose yet.

I stop in front of the door, even holding onto a sliver of luck as I lean toward the peephole, trying to find any possibility of escape—

Lucien: Good evening, dear miss.

Red balloons float mid-air in a green corridor, and a candle burns suspended in the air as if they’re part of a grand illusory melody.

Layer upon layer of cobwebs hang down, and twisted pumpkins are painted black and white.

In the absurd and mysterious world, Lucien raises the corners of his lips, his eyes with painted black tear streaks curving slightly.

He lifts his hand, inclining slightly in a gentlemanly bow as though taking a final curtain call.

Lucien: "A long, long time ago, there was a Queen who ruled an entire kingdom."

Lucien: "The Queen had many toys, and she lived with her toys in a castle."

The graceful yet dangerous jester tells the story again, but he carries it further this time.

Lucien: "But the toys could never get the Queen."

Lucien: "The party ended, and no one gained their freedom."

He smiles gently, and the flickering, dancing candle flames seem to sway excitedly without stopping, yet at the same time, the melting wax flows down like tears.

Lucien: "And so…The party went on, and the Queen, feeling extremely bored, intended to play a new game."

MC: …Is that the full story?

Lucien: No.

Lucien: This story will go on forever.

MC: Why?

Hearing my voice, Lucien puts away his smile.

That pair of profound and mysterious eyes unusually ooze with a hint of long-forgotten coldness, resembling a dark and gloomy sea.

The blood-red balloons are tethered in place and can only swing their body from side to side.

Yet I can clearly see the black tear mark slowly lengthening.

Lucien: Because... 'I' said so.

=[Part 4]=

[T/N: The BGM choice for this part until the end is so damn good. I highly recommend you all listen to it [In my subtitled video, it's on 12:25 time mark]. And the voice acting!!! It's definitely my second favorite, right after the first CG which makes me feel scaroused]

The Jester smiles as he opens his arms, revealing his beautiful and dangerous fangs, waiting to make a curtain call to his sole audience.

Looking at Lucien before me, I take half a step back.

A jester who doesn't exist in the story, a marionette who has lost her strings, a story that will go on forever.

A somewhat bold idea spreads in my mind, causing my heart to inevitably start beating rapidly.

After all, this is a game—and it’s only a game.

Lucien has obtained the prop, but the game isn’t over yet, so the prop alone is useless.

[which mean she still have the chance to win]

The grand door slowly opens, revealing that pair of captivating eyes in even greater clarity.

MC: So, dear Mr. Jester, what is it that you desire?

Lucien: Perhaps it’s simply… to sway with you in a dance that never ends.

With that, he places one hand behind his back, bows slightly, and extends his right hand to me.

The moment I touch his warm palm, it feels like a huge clockwork begins turning again, bringing the entire castle to life.

??: [cheers] Party! Party! We want to keep the party going!

??: Party! Party! We want the Queen’s party!

An unknown dance tune begins to play, and Lucien lifts my hand, guiding me in graceful dance steps and making me sway like the red floating balloons.

The colorful and ambiguous shadows subconsciously draw my attention, but then I’m pulled one step closer to him, leaving no room for retreat.

His hand is clearly only lightly resting on my back, yet I can’t push away even half a step.

Lucien: Dear lady, don't leave my sight.

His voice is soft, but it seems to carry an undeniable power.

For a moment, all I can do is look into his eyes, move my feet in sync with his guidance, and spin under his palm.

He is both my dance partner and the conductor of our duet.

The moonlight sprinkles over the desolate castle, and the sweeping hem of my gown traces luminous arcs amidst the black and white.

My retreat and approach, intimacy and evasion, are all in the palm of his hand—

as if there are some invisible threads that make me dance only for him.

MC: Mr. Jester, do you want to get me?

Lucien: Perhaps I’ve been striving for that purpose all along.

At some point, red strings have been wrapped loosely around my wrists.

The faint touch pressing against the small of my back also seems to remind me that he has already decided to close the curtain on this game.

With a ‘click’, the gemstone on my chest lights up.

In the Jester’s clockwork castle, the escaping Queen has returned to her throne, back under the Jester’s control.

The music ends. In that instant, I seem to catch a flicker of boredom in Lucien’s eyes.

He steps back slowly, his hand about to release me, but I suddenly pull it tightly.

MC: Mr. Jester, the story isn’t over yet.

I take one step forward, not missing the brief flash of surprise in his expression.

The halted music hasn't faded, and the game is still ongoing, just like this story.

I place Lucien's hand back on my waist, leading him to dance with me once more.

MC: "Once upon a time, there was a Queen who ruled over the entire kingdom. The Queen has many, many toys, and she lives in this castle with them."

MC: "Who is her toy, and whose toy is she?"

These are lines written on the last page of the book in the Queen's chamber.

The Jester forgot, even though he exists outside the story, when he entered the story as an escapee character— 

he naturally became a part of it.

As I guide Lucien in the swaying dance, the melody begins to play once again.

I am the Queen of this castle.

MC: Dear Mr. Jester, I welcome you to my castle.

As if summoned, the toys dashed out of the darkness, surrounding us on all sides.

The silver disco ball spins, scattering vibrant specks of light across the entire room.

I pull Lucien's hand, leading his steps as we spin in the middle of the room, as though this is precisely the center of the whole world.

??: [cheers] Queen! Queen! Our beloved Queen!

But Lucien also seems unwilling to be outdone; those deep, profound eyes now brim with even more undisguised mirth.

When I want to take a step forward, he moves even closer, drawing me into his embrace. When he lightly pushes me forward, I sidestep and twirl to his side.

Beneath the flowing melody, a more suggestive and provocative tension pervades the air.

The contending steps and calculating gazes, exchange of critical winning moves—each and every second is savored before victory arrives.

MC: Give me your heart.

I place my fingertips on the black heart on his chest as I lean forward–––

He encircles me even more firmly in his arms, letting me sink deeper into the depths of his eyes.

At the same time, the black hue underneath my palm gradually fades away, replaced by a red glow identical to the gemstone on my chest. The light reflects in our shared gaze.

“Thump”, “thump."

The sensation of heartbeat felt beneath my fingertips seems to make that shade of red even more vivid.

Lucien: What if I refuse?

He speaks as his fingertips caress my chin gently yet resistlessly, his warmth delicately spread through the fabric of his glove.

In places hidden from view, the red strings entwined around my wrists and fingertips gently tighten as though he is orchestrating my entire heartbeat along with the blood vessels.

MC: It's already too late.

My hand gently caresses the seemingly throbbing light, and I lightly tighten my grasp.

MC: Each toy's chest is hollow, and in the Queen's chamber you haven't had the chance to visit... I found all the hearts.​​

When someone's heart is taken, they become the Queen's loyal and devoted toy.

However, only a Queen bound by shackles can take someone else's heart.

MC: You should have left quickly after putting the "wooden control bar" on me

Lucien: [chuckles] I was too greedy.

Lucien: Or rather... from the very beginning, I was mesmerized by something far too beautiful.

Lucien: But I don't feel like I've lost anything.

He makes his heart fit even more completely in my palm, yet at the same time, he also tightens the red strings in his hand, his eyes flickering with dazzling light.

Lucien: If you want this heart of mine, you might have to pay a heavy price.

To get his heart, you must willingly surrender to his control. To not be controlled, you must get his heart.

This game seems like a never-ending story.

Lucien: [whispers hoarsely] Now… answer me once more, please.

Lucien: Do you still want my heart?

— — — — — — — —FIN — — — — — — — — — —

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[Afterwords]

If you remember my afterwords about the latest solo date, you might recall how I felt a bit disappointed because it seemed to only highlight his wins. But I think this date washes away some of those disappointments, as it delivers exactly what I want to see in their rivalry—a game where both of them can match each other’s freak wits.

Who won in the end? Who's controlling whom? Personally, I believe it ends with a mutual surrender of control. The marionette willingly surrenders to the Jester's control, but she’s not really under his control, as she has already captured his heart. Meanwhile, the Jester gives up his heart and becomes her loyal toy—but this surrender doesn't feel like a loss to him. Control and surrender blur—intertwined and inseparable, much like the red thread that binds them both.

Another interesting thing is that his date is reminiscent of S2 Chapter 59, where they play "werewolf game" (commonly known in the West as mafia game) as enemies—competing with each other, but ultimately just wanting to keep playing together for as long as possible. A werewolf game that ended in a tie with them killing each other at the end, and now it is an escape game where neither of them wants to escape... Want to compete with all of their might, yet also don't want to stop playing with each other. No matter the game, it'll only be a two-person play and other players are just NPC.