#so it has a lot of lore and i spent way too much time on it

[gen4grl]

from artistic mental breakdown to 5 wips simultaneously lmao

[cuteniaarts]

Behold, my latest and most enamouring new obsession:

Malina, Lady of the Chief of the Northern Water Tribe. As if Red Lotus child OCs weren’t niche enough

[whumble-beeee]

Whumptember 2023, Day 19

“You are not a hero. You’re a child playing dress up. Now take off that silly mask and go home.”

Villain mentor | In over their head | Trembling 

The Bee's Whumptember Masterlist 

~2180 words

CW: female whumpee, minor whumpee (15yo), suffocation, blood, stabbing with knife, minor character implied death? (idek if they're dead tbh), fear of death, very very shitty caretaker

(this is a part of the same story as Day 1: Did I Do Good? Takes place quite a bit in the past compared to the other one. You don’t need to read that story to understand this one :))

------------

“End of the line, little girl.”

The ice villain slowly advanced upon Air-Master with leisurely bravado, a deadly sharp icicle forming in her hands as she closed in on her captured prey desperately fumbling to shatter the ice that froze her legs and arm to the ground. 

“Stay back!” Air-Master screamed, slamming her fist down into the cement hard enough to draw blood and create a solid wall of air between the two. The villain tilted her head quizically at the sudden obstruction before swinging her icicle down into the substance, tearing it to bits with a light woosh. Turns out, air isn’t very hard to break through.

The villain laughed, finally reaching Air-Master and crouching down over her stomach, pinning her only unfrozen arm to the scratchy ground. She positioned the icicle over Air-Master’s heart.

“Alright kid, this has been fun,” The villain mused, enjoying how the young hero's bloodshot eyes stared at her, red with unshed tears and full of fury-riddled terror. “But sadly, it’s time–”

Suddenly, the villain wasn’t on top of Air-Master anymore. She was slamming into the nearby warehouse wall with a sickening smack, held in place by some sort of robotic claw that, like most of its immediate surroundings, was now sprinkled with morbid red flecks of blood. She went limp and didn’t move again.

“Jenna!” a worried voice yelled from Air-Master’s left, its embodiment crouching over her and pushing his fingers to her neck to find a pulse. “What the hell?! Are you okay?!”

Air-Master pursed her lips and squeezed her eyes shut, chest heaving with barely muffled cries. She was not going to cry in front of Destron. It was bad enough that he’d come to her rescue.

“What the hell are you doing all the way out here?” Destron raised some sort of sharp bludgeoning device and slammed it into her ice-laden arm, shattering the ice while still leaving her hand thankfully intact. “It’s dangerous, especially for kids and especially for… well girls. Women. Didn’t your mother tell you that?”

“Yes,” Air-Master spat, rubbing her arms together to warm them as Destron started slamming away at the more mountainous task of breaking out her legs. “And it’s not Jenna, it’s Air-Master. I’m on the job right now.”

Destron paused mid-chisel to raise his eyebrow at her. “Air-Master? One of those workout stair elliptical things? Like stairmaster?” Destron laughed at his own stupid joke. Air-Master ground her teeth. “Pick a better superhero name, kid. Then I still won’t call you it, because you’re not a superhero.”

“You’re one to judge, Destron. Because that’s such a great name…” Jenna hissed. “I am a superhero. I have a superpower and I’m out fighting bad guys. That’s what superheroes do.”

 Destron chuckled. “Is that right? Well then, call me the best and brightest on the force, because I had to save your super-kid butt from a class nothing villain… You’re gonna need a lot more training if you want to be the one saving people instead of making others save you.”

Jenna feltl tears burning at the back of her eyes again, more so than even when she was about to die just moments earlier. She slammed her fists on the ground. “I didn’t ask you to save me!” she cried. “Why’re you so obsessed with me?! You tried to kill my mom, you kidnapped me! We’re supposed to be mortal enemies! Get away from me!”

Destron’s face took on a rare form of shock as he stared at Jenna, just short of shattering the ice off her first leg. Then his eyes narrowed, daring her to say something even more stupid. “Excuse me?”

Jenna’s throat closed up at Destron’s sudden intensity, but her anger refused to let her back down now. “I can take care of myself. I’m a superhero, I don’t need help from villains like you.”

“Jenna–”

“Air-Master.” she corrected.

“Jenna.” Destron stated. “You’re not ready to be a superhero yet. You’re too young, you’re inexperienced. You don’t have any training, most importantly. And no, whatever your sorry excuse of a mother tried to teach you doesn’t count.”

“But–”

Destron scooted closer to Jenna so he could rest a hand on her shoulder and look her in the eyes, as stern as he could muster. “You are not a hero, Jenna...” He sighed. “You’re a child playing dress up. It’s time to take off that silly mask and go home. Please”

Jenna felt something break inside her. Angry tears started to roll down her cheeks as she threw Destron’s hand off her shoulder with breakneck force

“YOU’RE NOT MY DAD! YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!! YOU’RE A SUPERVILLAIN, I HATE YOU!!”

“Please just listen–”

“I HATE YOU!!”

She conjured up a spear of hardened air in her rage, flinging it at him with reckless abandon. Destron snatched it out of the air and stared at it for a moment. Then broke it in two and slammed it into the ground. The two halves dissipated rapidly.

“Hmm… It seems I’ve made an error. You’re right, little hero.” Destron muttered, a cold calm enveloping his voice like Jenna had never heard before. All of her rage dissipated just like her air weapons. It almost made her dizzy. 

“I– What?”

“I’m a supervillain,” Destron spelled out, eyes firmly on the modified shuriken he now toyed with in one hand. “And you’re a superhero. And the villains always defeat the heroes, no? Either that or the villains do heinous things to the heroes.” Destron threw the throwing star, and Jenna’s eyes followed it right to where it implanted in the red-stained wall directly next to the still unmoving ice villain's head. 

“That's just what villains do, right?”

 “Uh– I… Yes?...” Jenna squeaked.

“Wonderful. Glad we’re on the same page. Defeat me then.”

Jenna shrunk back from the man now standing over her, the ice freezing her legs to the ground suddenly becoming blindingly frigid. “Y–you-you you want me to… to fight you?”

“That's what heroes and villains do, no?”

“Uh, uh, yes, but… but you’re not–”

“Yes, yes, I’m a villain, I know. Not your dad, not a superhero, but a supervillain. You made that very clear.”

Jenna just stared at the man. There was no way he actually expected her, a 15-year-old girl, to fight him, who some people feared even speaking the name of just in case they evoked him. Not to mention she was still iced to the damn–

“Ugh, you’re worried about the power imbalance?” Destron sneered, rolling his eyes. “Fine, you have 30 seconds to do whatever.”

Blood roared in Jenna’s ear, adrenaline making her tremble intensely as she suddenly struggled to take a full breath. “Wait, w-wai-wait-wait, but–”

“It’s 30 more seconds than she gave you.” Destron gestured with some magically appearing mechanical staff over to the villain he had pinned to the wall like a butterfly. “Use it wisely. 26 now. 25, 24…”

Through her adrenaline-fueled haze, Jenna managed to conjure up a small but rock-hard, and most importantly sharp mound that she started bludgeoning at the ice with. Just like the one Destron used. The first casing came away easily. The second took a few hits, but she managed to rip her legs out with only medium amounts of gashes. She scrambled up and conjured a knife of air, taking a defensive position with her blade held straight out at her opponent. She bared her teeth with a trembling body as she hissed out her breath through her teeth and glared at him.

Destron tilted his head at her, slowly spinning the staff around like a twirling baton. “8, 7…”

Jenna conjured up and skipped across newly appearing solid air platforms. She ignored her legs’ screeches of pain and leaped off the platform toward Destron just as he hit “3, 2…” and buried the feather-light knife into his shoulder with a sickening amount of force.

Destron let out a pained gurgling sound as the knife embedded itself just below the clavicle, grabbing Jenna’s wrist to prevent her from pulling it out just as she tried to jump back. He looked up at her through his eyelashes, striking a lightning bolt through Jenna’s heart as she saw the violence in his eyes. “One.”

Suddenly, Jenna felt… tired. So, so tired. The fight felt so much more impossible now. Destron leveraged the staff up from under his armpit and over Jenna’s shoulder, slamming her onto her back using his body as the fulcrum of the lever. Jenna went down with a yelp, grasping at the air and even managing to conjure her own staff out of the stuff as she slammed into the ground. Destron fell to one knee on her chest, knocking any extra wind she still had in her lungs out of her, and shoved the center of his weapon down at her, eyes dead set on her own as he slammed once, twice, three times against her own weapon until it disappeared under the force and the shank of the staff pressed down straight on her windpipe.

She couldn’t breathe. She actually, literally couldn’t breathe. Her throat itched with a burning cough she couldn’t satiate, her chest heaved against the weight of the villain. She tried to push up against the staff. Gravity and strength both worked against her, and it didn’t budge an inch. Destron’s face was a mask of cold determination. The taste of metal filled her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut. Destron was going to kill her. 

The weight of the staff suddenly lifted off her neck, as did the knee on her chest. Jenna immediately started coughing uncontrollably, curling up into herself as she was gently pushed onto her side. The entire encounter hadn’t even lasted 5 seconds after Destron started fighting back… She curled even further into herself and let out a loud cry to the heavens. She was never going to be a superhero.

“You’re supposed to tap out,” Destron said from somewhere beyond the haze of looming death. She stayed like that for a long time, lying prostrate on the ground, curled up in her little ball, coughing into her hands as tears soaked into her hair and the cement under her.

“I was going easy on you,” Destron stated, patting Jenna’s back and rubbing circles as her coughs started to subside. “Usually I don’t just turn off the adrenaline response. Usually I make my opponent feel hopeless. Like the world already crashed down around them as they stood by and watched and did nothing. Sometimes they just… curl up at my feet.”

Jenna rolled to her back again with a wheeze, body still spasming with aftershocks as she looked at Destron with half-lidded eyes.

“You got me pretty good, though. In the shoulder.” Destron gestured to his new wound, actively gushing blood all over his sleeveless jacket. “Those air weapons are really something. They just need to be honed so they aren’t so fragile. And good fighting instincts, too, you did better than I thought you would.”

Jenna stared up at the light-polluted sky and squeezed her eyes shut. “You–... You tried to ki-i–” she fell into yet another coughing fit, coughs that painfully rattled through her throat. “You-ou were gonna ki-ill me.”

“I was never gonna kill you, kid. Just had to make it believable so the lesson would make it through all that teenage angst..”

“I hate you.” Jenna cried softly. In the moment, she really meant it too. “I hate you so-o-o mu-uch. So-so much.”

“That’s fair…” Destron conceded. “Tell you what, I could train you. Do a hell of a better job than your mom. Then you could be a real superhero.”

Jenna stared at Destron as her mouth practically fell agape. “Fuck you!”

“Hey! Watch the language! You’re what, like 15?”

“Yes!” Jenna shouted, feeling a second wind finally start to fill her body once again. His power must have finally been wearing off. She sat up to face Destron head-on. “I’m 15! And you, a full-grown man, most superpowered and feared person in the entire city, beat the shit out of me until I thought I was actually gonna die! Then you act like we’re all buddy-buddy again like everything’s normal? No! Normal isn’t almost killing someone just to prove a point! I’m allowed to swear! Fuck you! You’re the worst!”

Destron’s eyes widened at Jenna as she struggled to stand up again after the entire ordeal. Could she really not know? Destron fumbled with his hands. He really was a bad mentor…

“Jenna…” He whispered. “That… That is normal. Almost dying, almost killing people, actualy killing people, feeling every feeling day in and day out. That’s what being a superhero is. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. It’s not a burden to be taken lightly.”

Jenna froze halfway through her standing up. Her shoulders slumped. She took a deep breath.

“...I’m… I’m going home…”

She started walking away slowly.

“You want me to walk you?” Destron called after her.

“Fuck you!”

“Give the training a thought! You know how to call me!”

Jenna didn’t even grace that comment with a response.

@whumptember

[siramory]

heuugghh...heeheuhghh...

[satoruhour]

HIHII hope you are doing well!!!

I have a request but if you're not comfortable writing it's completely fine too!!

Anyways~ can you write something with University professor geto x top student reader??? They have a lot of sexual tension and geto continuously targets the reader in his lectures only for her to storm into his office after a test in which he didn't give her the marks she deserved just so he could piss her off and eventually leading them to blow off some steam together hehe-

HEJSJSH ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT REST OF THE DAY💗💗

-🍒

I GOT THAT DUMB D*CK !

a/n: hi cherry 2! saying 2 because i already have another cherry anon, thank u for waiting for this btw sorry this took so long omggg!!! i wanna make it similar to the short blurb i did here, but ill leave out reader being a camgirl! a lot of lore talk, just a warning

wc: 8k (sigh ....)

warnings: so much lore lol sorry, no beta we die like men, age gap (32 / 24), professor!geto, fem!reader, geto is also a cam worker, masturbation (both f and m), toy use during f! masturbation (vibrator), fantasising, pet names, praise, degradation, use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, oral (m receiving, f receives briefly at the end), dumbification (ig?) face-fucking, deep-throating, spitting in mouth, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, cum eating, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

no one could really pinpoint the reason why professor geto had picked on you, called you out so much, and why you entertained the incessant questions. it was unbecoming of a prof., he knew, it was never smart to favour one person (negatively, in this case) in a room of bright students who could read between the lines. but he just feels himself so drawn to your furrowed eyebrows and words laced with venom, because at the end of the day, he can see that you aren’t all talk.

you challenge his views and you do it in a way that catches him off-guard. you propose insane arguments that you willingly would die at the grave just to find evidence for; or it could just be because he was staring too much at the way your mouth moved and your eyes expressed everything to pay attention to your words, finding that you were just too beautiful to be chasing a linguistics degree.

this was another thing: geto suguru could possibly have anyone he wanted. he was fine. shoulders pulled back in proper posture, hair either tied up fully or just halfway, and always, always wearing shirts with sleeves that reach his wrist. to that, everyone could see just how bulked the man was, top looking too tight all the time.

geto knew he was fine, too, because on top of (and before) being a professor, he found that he could get a good amount of money by just streaming — camera propped below his neck and obviously tight button-up shirt discarded to reveal his tattooed body, while he has his legs spread and the thirsty, horny comments flooding in on the platform. it’s been a norm by now, started from his uni days where he needed some extra money to support his fees and living necessities.

one year turned into two, two years turned into stagnancy during his third and fourth years (save for a few occasional streams), and up came a little funny graduation stream suggested by his best friend. geto had spent a good half ’n hour talking about his time in university and thanking his viewers, changing up the setting almost immediately by showing hard he was.

[uzum4kisl0ver]: YEAAAH we’re getting to the good stuff, thank u for feeding us so well these few years uzumaki-san!!

[minstash96]: Congrats on graduating Uzumaki-san!! I rmb joining during your third year and found out from everyone u were getting busier </3 but Im glad youre back again!!!

[g_bigdick_s]: fellas is it gay to support your best friend’s graduation jerking off stream

the flood of “yes”’s replying to gojo made the streamer laugh, thankful that his best friend had listened a little and at least changed gojobigdicksatoru to just his “G.S.” initials to avoid people finding his LinkedIn. from there, geto had gotten into the true nature of his stream easily, fishing out his cock to stroke and loving the sounds of tips coming in, the name of his alias Uzumaki continually commented. since then, it’s become a side hustle — finishing his masters, training to become a professor, it’s all natural to him, taking even further steps to make sure he isn’t found out.

exactly, he could have anyone he wanted — a fan from his streaming account, or one of satoru’s regular fwb’s but instead he finds himself drawn to someone else, you, the second year student in his bilingualism and multilingualism module that he has no trouble teaching despite his freshly employed status.

at the start of the week, the gods decided thought it would be funny to delay the campus bus that would take you to the english department for a consultation session with your professor. you couldn’t focus in lectures due to bad cramps, you were behind on your non-major related courses, the bad luck just seemed to seep into one day after another. you had woken up late, putting on a terrible outfit that no one really cared about, except your professor who just had a smirk on his face.

“if you notice, runes were created as they were spoken — spelt as they are said which almost look like ‘pictographs’,” prof. geto switches to the next slide with the runes and their meanings alongside a jumble of symbols that send the whole class into hysterics, “can anyone sound out the phonetics of these runes to me? hint: even though i said they look like pictographs, the first rune is definitely not an E.”

he was known for asking questions during lectures, pleased with anyone that would even try because he knew how quiet lecture theatres could get. he was exactly like that in university, too, letting satoru take all the attention due to the many unknown people in the same room. now, he found that asking the questions was a little entertaining, seeing the way students look back down at their laptops and avoid eye contact. but he doesn’t need to do anything and his body is already turnt towards you. he’s not even pointing physically, which he thinks he’s done a good job of restraining himself.

ᛊᛃᚨᚾᛖᛚ

“the words and names should be as they sound — so ‘s’ or ᛊ should translate into a ‘c’ since they didn’t have a C back then and it’s the closest sound to C. ᛃ can’t be ‘h’ because of the usage of H in hagl . . its pronunciation is different and plus, we’ll spell it how we say it, so maybe it’s ‘j’?” you mutter to yourself, an urge to answer the quickest, always. you aren’t sure where this streak came from, but you’ve been smart always, “sja . . it either can be chanel or channel since there’s a rule you can’t use the same rune twice in succession . .”

professor geto already knows you’d be the first to answer, raising your hand even without looking since you were still calculating the other four letters which you put together fairly quickly.

you take the safest route, “chanel, with one N.”

geto clicks his tongue and sucks in a breathe, “so close, miss (y/n), but it’s because i cheated a little on my part.” you can feel your blood boil and the grimaces of other students when he switches to the next slide and there’s a little grin on his face. it says — ‘there is no distinction between capital and small runes, nor can you use the same rune twice continually.’

“you are right, partially, but i did want to drive home the point,” which he’s sure you already know. “that words with two N’s or L’s or whatever, would only show up in the runic language as only one character.” your face morphs into something of annoyance and the grin on professor geto’s face only widens — that defiant, headstrong nature is something he loved, but the grin drops a little when he imagines something . . out of the classroom. his pants tighten.

you mirror him, clicking your tongue and reluctantly taking down the note in your documents before sinking into your chair — not even chō, you friend, could find the proper words to comfort you. you spend the rest of the lecture, sulking, unwillingly answering his incessant questions with a scowl on your face and a headache forming.

this never stops—

“miss (y/n)?” one-on-one meetings were the bane of your existence, but it was the only way to connect with your professors properly — here, geto calls you to talk about your latest essay where you were the last on the roster. by then, everyone has filed out with nobara waiting for you just outside the classroom.

“don’t have to call my name, i’m the only one here.” you mutter under your breath, and geto feels a little annoying today.

“what was that?”

“nothing—”

he hums, scooting his chair closer once you sit, and while you find the gesture a little weird, you’re overcome with just how good he smells and it only fuels your hatred more. it’s no fair that he’s so . .

“miss (y/n).” you sigh with an apology, frankly not ready to hear how he’d be attacking your essay. it was written on a rushed timeline, you didn’t cite your sources properly, you knew some criticism was warranted as much as you didn’t like to hear it from your professor’s mouth.

“. . you do know you can’t just rely on your brain, right?” geto speaks softly and you feel your heart flutter at his tone. he points to the places where you forget your in-text citations.

“but professor, information about syntax and phonetics just comes like second nature . .” you mumble, ignoring how he closes his eyes and hisses, “and all the sources on the internet say different things.”

“then just find a reliable one.”

you tsk, taking the paper from him and flipping to the next page, “well, i did one here.” the paper makes a sound when you press your finger into it, aware of how close you are. from here you can feel the heat radiating off his body, unconsciously rubbing your thighs together.

“too long ago, needs to be within five years.” geto’s lying through his teeth.

“no, it does not!” you pull back and look at him incredulously. ah, the feeling’s gone, “not in language related papers, at least!”

“but that claim was from the 2000’s, miss (y/n), for all we know it could’ve been resolved by then.”

“then why didn’t you say anything about chō’s scholar article from the 1990’s?” you’re standing up, now, furrowed eyebrows depicting the very thing you feel: confusion, agitation at being treated like this. given you weren’t in the best condition when you wrote this essay, but you still gave it your all.

“her argument was about the interconnectedness between the romance languages — yours,” he punctuates while leaning back in his chair. you don’t like how your eyes flit down to his lap, but you’re forced to look up when he stands up too, “is about the use of ciphers in comparison to an immature language developed on the internet that created in the 2019s. any scholar claim before that would be void.”

your blood boils just like that day. alas, he had a good point, but like always, the gentle slit of his eyes and the all-knowing smile didn’t match the bullying he was laying on you and you despise it.

even! even, as you notice how there’s probably less than a inch between your faces as you puff out your chest to look more intimidating and yet geto suguru towers over you. and even when your heart beats loudly in your ears, feeling his hot breath fan over your own face while you don’t miss how he licks his lips and glances down to yours not-so-secretly.

you swallow at the silence, until there’s the annoying notification of his Outlook cutting the tension and soon you’re snatching the essay from him, walking to where your bag is. although you want to let your anger overflow, all you say is a tame, “noted. thanks, prof” with a glare, eye twitching.

you made sure to slam the classroom door with shaky hands . .

. . but you’re not very good at capping your rage. “i swear to god! he better fucking check his mirror and admire himself because soon i’m going to beat him up so bad that everyone can’t recognise him.” geto’s lips turn up in a small smirk at your flared expression he just witnessed — he just loves your dirty mouth and he finds himself thinking of it more and more often.

chō only can tut, “so you find him attractive?”

“what? how the hell did you infer that from my rant?” you scoff, shoving her to the side, not aware that your whispered outburst is heard as he’s packing up. he simply enjoys looking at you walk away through the glass slit of the door, hips swaying unknowingly.

“bad news, guys,” geto, or rather Uzumaki, sighs on screen, adjusting so the lens of the camera rested just below his collarbones. easily, his chat fills up with a mixture of horny comments and genuine questions, chuckling to himself as he unbuttons his shirt. he feels more like a sinner at this point, suddenly flustered with the confession he’s about to make.

“i think i’ve taken quite a liking to someone,” geto hums, hands going to his trousers to palm his bulge. he had to get home immediately after that, cancelling his meetings for the day. with a single text to gojo, the white-haired man was excited to hear everything about this new person, thankful that his best friend will finally not be alone.

[g_bigdick_s]: TELL US! TELL US!!!! TELL US!

but professor geto is lost instantly, imagining you as he massages his erection. thinking about your anger transforming into pleasure, into obedience for him as he forces your mouth down on his cock. oh . . how’d your mouth and hands feel, how’d your pussy feel.

geto groans, already removing his dick from the constraints, and pumping it to full length. he doesn’t even talk much, only the endless comments and tips reminding him he was still on live. spitting on his hand, he wraps his hand around himself again, thumbing the tip and hoping it’d be your tongue swirling around it.

what would you look like on your knees, taking each inch of his cock down your throat? would he be able to wipe the defiance off your face? would he be able to fuck his smart student, dumb?

“you need a good destress, woman,” chō suggests over the phone, voice a bit uneven due to it being stuck in between her shoulder and ear, “go on camstar or something, i’m sure you’ll find something hot there.”

“chō, i am not going on a porn streaming website! i’ll very much settle for my smut fics, thank you.”

“boo, don’t you get bored? i get that normal adult industry videos are super inaccurate but . . when was the last time you’ve watched an unfiltered, unedited jerk off vid? that’s the hottest.”

you scoff, “yeah, like you would know, miss complain-whenever-you-get-dick-pics.”

“that’s because it’s unsolicited! plus all the men who send me pics have ugly dicks. if anything i’m more open to get unsolicited pussy pics rather than consensual dick pics at this point.” your friend nonchalantly says, spreading her fingers to look at her manicured nails, “but anyway, prof geto is on your ass too much lately. maybe he wants to get in your pants?”

you don’t recoil at the suggestion as much as you expect to and you’re puzzled at that — “please never say that again.” just as you’re saying this, you’re typing in camstar.org even though you told yourself not to but deep down, you know that you’ve been craving more than just twitter links and porn with plot stories. on the front page, you’re seeing a video thumbnail of a guy with a fairly big . . feature, countless tattoos lining his body while you can catch a faint glimpse of his long hair in the dark room — it’s the only one that draws you in, other streams merging into a blur.

chō’s voice fades off when you notice just how popular the stream is, cursor hovering over the title (“just a ramblefap, need to release some tension”) almost tempting you to click.

“okay, will get back to you,” succumbing to your needs, you shamelessly grab your vibrator just as she cheers into the phone. you can hear that’s my girl! on the other side as you stifle a smile, bidding a goodbye before you settle into bed. from there, you do what you always do: relax for a few, slow your breathing, get yourself wet a little—

click.

The stream you have attempted to view has ended a minute ago. We apologise for the inconvenience caused. View more livestreams below:

you shove the vibrator under your pillow and bury your head into it, screaming.

“i mentioned in yesterday’s lecture that Latin evolved from the dialects of the Italic peoples of ancient Italy, or Latium, a region in central western Italy. over time, Latin absorbed elements from other languages, such as Etruscan and Greek, and it became the main language of the western Mediterranean.” professor geto rambled on in classic geto fashion — it was his passion that made him so easy to listen to, as with the many enamoured girls with googly eyes and the guys who wish they could carry themselves the way geto did.

you’d say the same thing: his love for his subject of study made him attractive — charming even — as much as you didn’t want to admit to your friend, but you’d be more open with your attraction like everyone is if he wasn’t—

[9:52am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] so fucking annoying and cocky and picking on me all the time!!!!!! im soooo sick of him im so serious omfg ....

but today, he’s looking less at you and more at other students, or even marvelling at the terrible paint job of the classroom as he goes from slide to slide. he talks about the derivation in which French separates from Latin, borrowing similar spellings and meanings from the old language while separating the way they are spoken.

“French is the most divergent of the romance languages because of strong Gallic and Frankish influences. The Celtic Gauls spoke a language similar to Old Dutch but adopted Latin as the Romans invaded Gaul.” you don’t even have to look at him to get him thinking of lewd things, spiralling into his fantasies ever since last night. geto is a little fatigued, too, having lost sleep over his fucking student which he just can’t help bothering. excitement at having you in class before is now turning into dread with every week that passes, and this week is just one instance.

“uh— i-i know you guys aren’t well-versed in either, but with your knowledge of both languages,” geto pulls at his tie. he feels hot, “discuss with your tutorial groups, the differences between the two and list down examples. just come up with one difference, but preferably name a few instances.”

[10:01am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] wish u were here im so bored 😭😭 profs acting so weird today tho

[10:01am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] is he looking hot and bothered, nervous ??? like he wants to cry? im tellin you he wants you fr

of course she’d come out of her sickness-induced sleep just to bother you about him having the hots for you.

[10:02am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] you’re so ... i swear pls shut up he may want me but i do NOT want him

[10:03am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] not even while you were just ranting about how his side profile looked a little too good in lecture yesterday?? anyway i hope you’ll be able to get that nut tn 🙏🏼 that guy on camstar sounded hot asf

[10:04am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] ikr i cant believe i got cockblocked by a fuckin livestream ending 💀 thank you fr i need it atp

“any progress here?” he comes out behind you and you slam the phone so hard you give the both of you a scare while your other friends exchange giggles with each other. what you don’t know, is how his arm is positioned upon the back of your chair and his whole body hovers just beside yours. you’re threatened to look, but you know if you do, you’d be falling deeper into the pit that you promised yourself not to fall into.

“yup, we’re just discussing things about how in terms of grammar, French has conjugation but almost no declension. but— uh, it rather uses word order to express some of the intricacies that Latin expresses through word endings.”

you can see geto nod from your peripheral, “good. good answer, any examples to show me?”

your friends nod towards you since you’re usually the one with all the information about different languages. they aren’t foreign to the way geto keeps calling on you to answer him, too, so you shouldn’t have any problem with this, right?

wrong. you’re stuttering through your answer, turning your head finally and being met with the sight of prof geto looking down on you like a deer caught in headlights. you think that being in lecture theatres, sitting near to the back and your hatred in general has desensitised you to the beauty of your professor, because being under him like this makes your core pulse uncomfortably and your voice shaky.

“. . hm? what was that?”

“i was uhm— saying how— uh,” the way geto nods at you makes you more nervous, painting you as someone who someone who had all bark and no bite, but the other knows very well that you had a nasty bite. you’re smart and witty, pretty, hot as fuck, and if anything, it’s taking everything in geto not to bend you over and show you your place in this very classroom in front of everyone, too.

“little lady got nothin’ for me today?” geto purses his lips and lets his teasing side take over, an easy-going smile taking over his features that you just want to kiss and slap off at the same time. wait.

“i didn’t get enough sleep because i was too busy trying to rewrite the damn essay you said i had outdated and missing sources for,” you speak through gritted teeth, feeling a mixture of arousal and pure rage for the man hovering over you.

geto juts his lip out in a pout, face getting dangerously close to yours and challenging you. he just hopes your two friends won’t say anything, “well, darling, if you picked an easier topic to argue about, you wouldn’t be doing that, would you?”

“well, sorry i’m always trying to outdo myself. are you, professor geto? what with your boring suits and black and white slide designs?”

you click your tongue and turn back to your phone to pull up your chat with chō while geto takes a deep breath, desperately hoping the hard-on wouldn’t show through his slacks. your other two friends only giggle even more at the exchange, because for the rest of the class, professor geto is on edge, unable to teach coherently.

[11:17pm, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] YOU DID WHAAAAATTTTT...???? GIRL YOU SAID THAT???!!!!!!

[11:18pm, (y/n) -> chō 💟] bro what if i get expelled.. i shouldnt have but he was pissing me off so much... i did put an apology in the end tho

by then, you’ve already submitted your rewritten essay, putting in a short note at the end for your behaviour in class. although you don’t take it back, you’re still trying to play it safe especially with how much you paid to get into university. you scroll along camstar, bored out of your mind and hoping to find something as compelling as the inked guy from last week, but nothing really draws you in. until you’re refreshing the page, and just like the previous time, the popularity of that same bulking guy seems to push his video to the top.

and finally, before you’re clicking into the video, you check out his profile: in his early thirties, started this account when he was 24 and in university. you smack your lips at that — he’s been doing this for almost ten years? that’s dedication. in curiosity, you scroll down his account, seeing the progression of which this guy built up his figure and tattoos that litter his body. he’s kept the same format, camera showing his body chest down until you’re lazy to scroll more, a little disappointed in not being able to find any indication of his face.

you think that maybe you saw a glimpse of that wrist tattoo that matched the tattoo on your professor’s wrist, but you could just be imagining things.

“alright guys . .” the man on the screen huffs, clothes already discarded to get straight to the point, and you’re recording a small snippet of the same guy you told chō about. “had a rough day today.”

the onslaught of comments going i can make u feel better!!! Take ur anger out on me Uzumaki-san makes you sputter and laugh, sending that video first before you’re taking another. your attention is stolen for a moment, seeing chō react with emojis to your video message (“let’s see what emails i got today, huh?”), but the structure of sentences that the man speaks soon brings you out of jollity and into shock.

“how cute, an essay sent straight to my email.” geto wants to do anything but look at emails right now, but ever since he’s gotten your rewritten assignment, it’s all he’s wanted to check out if it wasn’t for the many meetings and errands he had to run today. “yadda yadda . . oh?”

“i’m sorry for today’s lesson,” purposely pausing to leave out his name, geto continues on, “i shouldn’t have reacted in that way no matter the situation.” a smirk forms on his face while your body fills with dread. in your panic, you pull up your own document whilst catching all of this on camera, tracking each word as the man on camstar.org continues to say out your apology word by word.

and then bit by bit, you’re making out how the man behind the camera might, just might be your linguistics professor. the broad shoulders, the jawline, the long hair, the manspread . .

but even with your heightened combination of excitement and revelation, you don’t click away, blindly sending the video to your friend and then shamefully digging under your pillow to grab your vibrator.

“teaching people is so difficult sometimes, guys,” he grunts, pulling down his underwear and revealing his already hard cock. he lets out a shaky sigh as he wraps a hand around his shaft, “you usually get the people who won’t do any work, the ones who are absent half the time — usually they go hand in hand.”

professor geto laughs and you twitch at the lovely sound. “but . . there’s this one girl . . in my classes— f-fuck.”

you’re entranced, watching your professor masturbate in front of thousands of people who possibly didn’t know a thing about this man while you try to get your jaw off the floor, “who is entirely different from these categories.”

“she’s smart,” geto groans out and you watch transfixed as he starts to pump himself, hips grinding up into his palm, “she’s so smart that i’d want to get to know her one day and just talk about anything.”

“s-she’s so fucking attractive, too, you guys won’t even— oh goddd . .” you feel like you’re being watched, so you’re careful with how you’re putting your vibrator to your core and once you start it, the moan that leaves you lines up with geto’s deeper groans. it turns you on so damn much.

with his head tilted back, he’s long gone as he moves his hands faster and faster, the slick noises of his pre-cum and spit mixing in together — geto only wishes he could act on his desires once the course was over, but knows you’ll probably be mortified at the prospect. at least here, he can imagine that it’s your mouth or cunt doing all the work.

“s-shitttt . .” the professor sounds out, hissing when he thumbs his tip and even more pre comes spilling out and while you watch, you’re hypnotised by the beautiful moans in its perfect cadence and the thickness of his cock. by now his chest is heaving and he’s holding onto his bedsheets so tight you wish it was your thighs.

“i want to fuck her silly, fuck all of those stupid facts out of her head and get her dumb on my cock,” geto whines, hips fully bucking up now while you press your vibrator deeper into your clit. you’re left wondering how his mouth would feel, to shut him up by pressing him into your cunt until he can’t breathe, soak his stupid fucking suits, “want to hear her moan my name.”

you whimper at all the things professor geto swears he wants to do to you, grinding into your hand while he speeds up as well. he doesn’t speak, simply stroking himself as he thighs tense up and he squeezes his shaft with head full of visions of you in terribly lewd positions, making disgusting sounds, and all for him. it isn’t long before geto cums with a loud drawn out moan, shooting his cum onto his torso with a sigh before taking a sticky hand to his lips, licking it off — “i’d want to see my cum dripping out of her one day.”

that sends a chill down to your core, biting your pillow before you release softly all over your hand and vibrator; you spend the rest of the night watching professor geto’s other videos.

[12:32am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] oh. OH..........

“i should’ve just taken an off-day today, i do not want to get back our results.” chō rubs at her eyes and temples, wanting anything to do with the return of test marks, but unfortunately it was the week after midterms and it was inevitable, “don’t need to ask you though, you’re probably not worried at all.”

“trust me, i am,” you bite the inside of your cheek. it’s been at least . . two weeks after that whole debacle, and despite your intense vents with your friend and the continuous picking on by prof. geto, nothing out of the blue was happening. except, maybe, your growing physical need for your professor and your simultaneous, increasing hatred for him.

“it’s only midterms — you don’t need to worry too much since it doesn’t contain a high percentage. what you should be focusing on are your finals. we’ll work on your shortcomings and mistakes here so you guys will do the best when the time comes.”

and when professor geto comes around to hand you your test, all you do is glare up through your lids, taking it from him before feeling your whole world crumble.

“a B+?!” your mouth gapes open at the blatant 65/100 mark that glares back at you. you know that you would’ve gotten anything but a 65, willing yourself to study harder and harder just to rub it in his pretty little face that you weren’t falling behind in his class. at this point it’s got to be personal, so soon, you’re packing up your things angrily with the intent to storm his office after your other classes.

it’s late in the afternoon when you finally finish your other tutorials on a short fuse, him clearly getting ready to head home by the darkness of his office when you shove your way through the door.

professor geto is sat in a laid-back position, tie hung on the hooks installed in the office and a few buttons are unbuttoned, revealing the very familiar tattoos you’ve become acquainted with.

“to who do i owe the pleasure?”

“cut the crap, prof.,” you scowl, using your foot to slam the office door close. despite the late nights being buried in your sheets, you won’t let yourself be treated like this, “i deserved anything but a 65 on midterms.”

geto tilts his head, sitting up and gesturing out to you; you realise he wants to see your test paper.

“ah!” with a finger, he makes a show of finding for your obvious mistakes which was minimal — but the way he marks obnoxiously tells you everything you need to know, “here. your comprehension of the similarities between Latin and Ancient Greek was too surface level, you didn’t explain why—”

“i. did!” you press down into the paper like the first time, leaning over his table and reading out the exact answer you wrote just a few days ago, “here, since your blind ass wants to act like i wasn’t answering the question.” you push yourself into his desk more, eyes levelled with his. you dare him to say something smart.

“well, your explanation of the six cases in Latin left out the locative, the last one, and there were some problems in the conjugation that the test asked of you.”

“bullshit. show me, if you’re so confident.”

professor geto knows he’s hit a dead-end. he was telling lies, full of it, but he’s enjoying every second of the anger that translates into your features, of the growl in your voice. he leans back further the more you close in on him.

“nothing, right? so tell me, do you hate me that much?”

geto simply laughs, crossing his arms and reminiscing on the many nights he’s spent doing anything but.

“quite the opposite, sweetheart.” the name catches you off-guard for a moment, but your sour face returns soon enough.

“then what the fuck do you think you’re doing, picking endlessly on a student?”

your professor sits forward, prompting you to cower back. you think it’d be good to bring up whatever he’s got going on on camstar.org but you’ll wait to a good moment before you say anything about your trump card, until geto snaps you out of your stupor by towering over you. the sheer difference makes you swallow.

“because i like seeing you flared up and angry and mad.” professor geto surprises you with each second, the nonchalance in which he said it, the stupid, attractive smirk on his face. now’s the time.

you compose yourself, thinking of the best way to phrase this, “you know you’re not entirely safe, either, you know. i could report you with the frequency in which you’re picking on me.”

you point a finger to his chest, thinking you could get him to lay off immediately with this as much as you were hoping he wouldn’t. the attention was unwarranted but not entirely . . terrible, “that wouldn’t look so good on your record, right, Uzumaki-san?”

you relish in the surprise that seeps into geto’s pretty features but it’s a short-lived victory when he goes back into a relaxed state, expression neutral — “so you know.”

“know . . what?” your professor pulls away and walks around his desk, finally in close proximity to you like he’s always wished.

“how badly i want you.” he whispers, but doesn’t go past that, rather letting you figure everything out for yourself.

“‘. . fuck her silly, fuck all of those stupid facts out of her head’, right?” you mumble softly, not admitting to even chō that you had watched that livestream over and over enough to memorise the few sentences. geto wraps an arm around your waist to tug you closer, faces so close that you could just shut him up.

“go on.”

“you want me to go dumb on your cock,” professor geto mutters a correct which undeniably sends a thrill to your core.

“you want to hear me to moan your name.” “—want to hear her moan my name.”

a small smile spreads across his face (even if you left out the most important thing) as he finishes his own sentence with you, eyes clouded over with lust and your scent and he’s positive he can smell your soaked panties from here if he tries hard enough.

“that’s right.”

“sooo . .” by god, you fucking hated the man, but seeing someone stroke their cock to just the thought of you — how could you pass off such a good opportunity? “do you prefer professor geto, or suguru?”

geto groans at his first name usage, setting you on his desk and presses himself into you at the sound of papers flying to the floor, stationary falling to the ground. he can only hope no one walks in. he’s fully hard, loving how your legs naturally spread for him.

“whatever you want, baby.” and after, it’s all history with the way geto crashes his lips into yours, letting you pull at his jacket and shirt, practically ripping open the buttons to see his tattoos that you’re begging to see. slowly, he lets you trace them while he kisses down your neck, roughly pulling your sweater off of you. you have the cutest tits, packaged nicely in your bra which he has no trouble taking off. there’s a small sound that escapes his mouth when he unclasps your bra and your breasts come falling out.

“didn’t tell me you had such a nice pair . .” you giggle.

“yeah, like i would straight up tell my professor that.” with a hand, your hand follows the ink of his dragon that wraps around his body and torso, right down to his happy trail, “but i mean, you get the honour of seeing it now.”

with a squeeze to his bulge, you whisper, “maybe i’ll let you fuck them next time.”

geto lets out a little moan, “fucking minx,” before he latches his mouth onto your nipple, kneading the other greedily. a soft moan leaves your mouth as you knead his erection, a culmination of your combined groans in the quiet office. soon he’s giving attention to the other, a hand trailing down into your panties where he rubs your clit to test the waters, and he smiles into your skin at the way your hand falters and your head hangs forward.

“p-professor . .” it’s clear geto can’t wait, because he pushes a finger into you easily with how dripping wet you are, panties showing a dark patch of your juices. “s— so thick—”

“i know, baby, gotta stretch you out,” a soft pop! is heard as he comes off your nipple before he meets your lips in a sloppy kiss. he shoves his tongue into your mouth the moment he pushes a second finger in and he swallows your moans, letting you feel around his body to dig your nails in — it was just too damn much.

“so— suguru, your f-fingers, they’re so—” even with your protests, your hips grind up against his thick fingers that are pumping in and out of you, taking every last piece of fire in you as you succumb completely.

“what, miss (y/n)?” geto memorises the exact way all your previous blazing words are reduced to mere mewls and whimpers, alongside your pleas for more, more, more.

“i need something—” you whine when he pushes all the way inside, stretching your cunt so well as you clench around him like a vice and sucking him in, “i wanna make you feel good—”

you get at least a little resolve in the time it took you to say that, drunkenly unbuckling his belt before pulling his cock out. his tip is positively leaking, fingers curling instinctively in your pussy and your moans mingle together again.

“c’mon, prof, please?” geto tuts, reluctantly removing his fingers from your cunt which he wish he could spend more of his time in, but gives in to you as you switch positions, pushing him against his own desk. from there you’re going to your knees, marvelling at the cock you’ve watched on your very own screen.

“better than you imagined?”

you roll your eyes, “shut up or i’m blue-balling you.”

geto exhales forcefully, cut off when you put your mouth gently over his tip. you suckle on it like a pacifier, swirling your tongue around the mushroom head and looking up at him through your lashes; the sight is heavenly. the hair from his bun had fallen out, framing his pleasure-filled face, and the veins on his arms pop out so much from how harshly he’s grabbing the wood.

“f-fuck, baby . .” his words are lost once you start bobbing your head, encasing his shaft deep in your mouth as you suck and lick and slobber over his thick cock, using your hands to stroke the places you can’t reach. a choked moan weasels itself out of geto when one of your hands deviate to play with his balls, squeezing lightly at the sack while you continue to lick the underside of his length.

“take me like a slut, don’t you?” geto says breathlessly, fingers going through your hair to gather the strands into a makeshift ponytail, cradling your head to guide your mouth, but he soon starts to thrust into your waiting mouth.

“want me to fuck your dirty whore mouth?” your professor asks and you hate how much it turns you on as he brings you off to let you breathe for a moment. you stick out your tongue, big doe eyes just pleading to be used as your hands anchor themselves down to his belt loops.

“y—yes, prof., give me everything you got,” geto hums, seemingly satisfied with your answer as he taps your tongue with his tip, cock so heavy and thick it makes you whine a little before he shoves it in without warning. the moan that rumbles deep in your throat sends vibrations up his body and he starts a pace immediately.

“that’s it, that’s it—” you breathe through your nose as geto face fucks you, two hands covering the back of your head as he thrusts into your throat. your mouth’s just so damn warm and tight it has geto groaning non-stop while your eyes start to well up with tears. he uses you like a cocksleeve, abusing your throat each time his tip meets with it.

“fuuuckk— yes, yes, your throat’s so—” geto tilts his head back when he buries his cock in you, the deepest he’s ever been and your nose meets with his pubes, the smell of his musk and sweat making your eyes roll back in pleasure. suguru is all grunts before moving again, the gagging, gawking noises filling the small space.

“mmhm— mmf!” you moan around his length, trying your best to move your tongue along the underside of his cock. a hand goes down to quell the growing need of your cunt, slipping a finger or two in.

“dirty girl just can’t think straight when she has a— s-shit— cock in her, huh?”

you hum in agreement, eyes fluttering when you feel his tip twitch in your mouth and geto spills right into your throat with a long moan. your lids flutter close, taking as much cum as you can before coming off with a deep breath. strings of his cum and your saliva connect you to his cock, the lewdness of it all showing clearly in how sloppily you sucked your professor off.

“open.” and you show your tongue still full of his cum, taking the opportunity to lean down to let a ball of spit fall from his mouth. it drops painfully slow to your tongue, closing it only when you hear the rasp of swallow, “good girl.”

“think i’ve kept you waiting for too long, need to be in you,” geto brings you up by your upper arms, propping you up nicely onto his desk where you already start to leak into the wood, “do you want me to be in you?”

“only if you promise to stop picking on me, prof.,” you pout. really, a changed girl once you get some cock, huh?

“but you’re too cute not to bother, baby.” your pout deepens and geto feels a tug on his heart. oh, you were too adorable, knowing you’d kill him the next time he mentions this. he hopes they’ll be a next time.

“i mean it, suguru,” you murmur as he uses his tip to play with your juices, smearing it around your cunt. “treat me like a proper person.”

“can i at least treat you like a slut behind closed doors?”

you bit your lip, he’s asking for a next time, and who are you to reject him?

“whatever you want, professor,” you wiggle your hips along his cock, hoping for some friction which he grants to you with no problem, “use me. treat me like your cum dump.”

geto hisses at your tightness and your words as he bottoms out in you. he’s had your pussy once and already cannot get enough of you, moaning each time he moves in and out of your cunt. your walls hug him so snugly, sucking his cock in endlessly.

“baby, baby, baaaby . . your pussy’s so fuckin’— good—” he grunts into your ears, hips starting to thrust slowly into you. he swears he can see you in your tummy, asking you to look down, “look at how deep i am in you, sweetheart.”

you moan at just how big he was as you glance down, but you’re more focused on the way your pussy spreads for him, the cute veins on his length as he moves in you. you’re leaking so much that it’s effortlessly, the way he rams into you.

“sugu— suguru . . mmfuck—” geto groans upon feeling you rub your clit, your own hips bucking needily into his own as your juices start to drip down his balls. this was everything that he hoped would happen; your features morphed into pleasure, you descending into stupidity just from some dick, feeling your pussy, finally.

“hear yourself?” your professor proposes the question and you’re confused for a moment until he slows down and you whine at the sudden change, brought to attention just how soaking you were. the soft shlick, shlick, shlick sounds take your breath away, as with the translucent sheen of your juices coating his cock.

there, your professor resumes his pace, “hear how fuckin’ sloppy this pussy is for me. listen to her,” your senses are all overwhelmed: by how he hits all your sweet spots, the sweat on your back, your fast-beating heart and you let out a mangled whimper, “yesss . . that’s what i like to hear.”

geto smirks at how you can’t even answer, picking up his pace into a regular one. with his cock buried deep in you, you have no choice but to let your body move with his thrusts, jerking each time his balls meet your ass noisily.

“is this what the little lady needed? just some professor cock to get her to not be so damn uptight!”

“y—yessss . .” you’re delirious, “yesyesyes, suguru!” you squeal when he holds your legs up and pushes your legs into your chest, tongue lolling out at the deepness that he was in you.

“fucking slut,” geto mumbled, hips turning sloppy with fatigue taking over, but your cunt was just too good to stop, “where d’you want me to cum, baby?” he knows you’ll answer how he wants you to, especially after watching his livestream—

“i-inside— inside, pleaseplease,” the circles on your clit are messy, now, chasing your high more than ever, but your pussy is grasping onto him like a vice, prompting groans deep from his throat. “want your cum dripping out of me, prof—”

those words alone has geto shooting his load with a strangled grunt, switching to shallow, quick thrusts to pump you full of his cum. it comes out in hot, thick spurts, filling your insides more and more until it spills out the sides and you follow soon after, whole body convulsing from the intense orgasm you can’t stop shaking violently.

“take it— that’s it, attagirl,” he whines out, stroking his length to make sure you’re getting every last drop out of him, “take all my cum . .”

geto is sure he’s getting old by the way he feels lightheaded, having had to hold onto the edge of the table for a minute — but in that 60 seconds you’ve stumbled off the table and laid your chest over it, perking your ass up where your pussy continues to leak hot, white cum.

your professor takes one good look at your ass, hands going up to knead at them and spreads your cheeks. with his tongue, he eats his cum out of you, making your jerk at the sensitivity.

“oops, i’ve cleaned you up of my cum — guess i gotta give you a couple more loads,” geto props a leg up, eating you out, “it’s only right since my brightest student has suffered so much at my hands . .”

tagging @arminsumi @shidouryusm @suguruplsr @crysugu @slttygeto @suget @sonarspace @marimogf @hannzai &lt;3 ok gn

[meo-eiru]

Oh. Me. Gosh. The post about the misspellings of Elias's name made my brain give birth.

Elias being a triplet. His other siblings are Elian, the smart one, and Elisa, the talented one. And growing up, he felt like he could never be on their level or ever impress their (really uncreative when it comes to naming) parents. Elian has the turquoise hair, Elisa has orange hair, and Elias has lavender pink hair

Elisa is a dancer/choreographer💃. She is very artistic and can sing, dance, paint, all that shit. Despite being the favorite, she spent a lot of time trying to get away from their parents' judgemental gaze, either at dance practice, extracurriculars, or hidden in her room doodling. She's neutral about Elias and thinks Elian is too intense.

Elian is a business owner and a workaholic (see the eyebags?). He was an honors student, won spelling bees as a kid, and probably got a scholarship to yale or some pompous ass school like that 🙄. If Elisa was busy, he was the one their parents showed off to friends and coworkers. He doesn't mind Elisa but thinks Elias is pathetic and enjoys feeling above him.

And finally, Elias. The second he turned 18, he did his best to get the hell away from them all. His parents either ignored him or told him to be more like his siblings, to find a passion and stick to it. He felt despised b his family and became self-destructive since he just wasn't good enough.

(Tried to make Elias sorta rugged with bushy brows and a beard so that he's the exact opposite to his pretty brother)

Context

Further context

THIS IS SENDING ME LMAO THE LORE THICKENS

I love the idea of Elias being born in a normal ass house with normal ass parents and a normal ass community so just imagine you have these older siblings who are just extremely extremely talented at what they are doing who set the bar waaaay too high. Like imagine both Elisa and Elian won scholarship with their respective abilities which in turn makes their parents expect the same level of talent from Elias

Like somehow these two normal people managed to birth two geniuses who managed to accomplish crazy stuff with their limited resources, so the parents would expect Elias to do the same on his own but Elias is mediocre at best at whatever he tries so they get disappointed in him…

I doubt I’d make this canon because for Elias to turn into who he is today I need him to be someone who was kinda spoiled for his looks growing up which kinda crippled his ability to develop skills and caused him to put way too much importance into his looks (since that’s the only thing people cared about him) but like this is such a funny idea I want it to be an AU

[starryeyed-seer]

What Lurks Within: 99 whispers and what they might mean

The 6th Coil of the Labirynth of Tigers is full of Mystery but some of the most intriguing are found in the rare occurrence of the sealed door. Investigating it reveals one of 99 texts depending on random chance. They're a mix of everything, from deep lore to literature references to invitations to join a monstrous polycule.

Below the cut, I'm going to look at all of them and some thoughts as to what they might mean.

Spoilers for everything.

I've sorted them by topic, aproximately, so we're starting with the coil and moving out from there.

---

The Story of The Sixth and Seventh Coil

A lot are clearly snippets from the love affair of the seventh coil, and the tiger keeper too. These get a shoutout for being unabashedly Pretty Horny in a perfectly monstrous, sensual way. Congrats whoever wrote those.

Once a tiger prince and a finger king fell in love, the tiger welcomed the fingerking to live inside him and they became a new entity, the Seventh Coil. Everything about the union was forbidden, and they were locked away out of fear in the Sixth Coil.

"—two kings apart and a king together and it is only right and proper that you kneel—"

The Tiger Prince+The Fingerking are both kings, of a sort. As the shared body of the Coil, they are still a king. Being in their presence causes an inclination to kneel.

"—amusing that they thought this a prison, and not a sanctuary—"

The Labirynth might be a prison, but it is also a safe place they may be together considering their union is Very Illegal. As much as the Coil is trapped, they are together (and not fully cut off from the outside world either)

"—presence is a joy at last, after time-outside-of-time spent with a recusant court—"

"—it would have been better if they knelt of their own free wills—"

The tributes sent into the Coil exist as the 'court', and seem lost in a dream-like haze, which the liminal Is and Not nature of the Sixth Coil causes.

"—o lover, I see thee only in mirrors—"

"—the labyrinth has been so very cruel to you, dearest—"

The Tiger Keeper encountered the Coil in dreams, and fell in love. Seeing one's lover only in mirrors also can refer to the Prince/FK affair.

"—Consort dearest, your eyes will fill with scales—"

Being possessed by a fingerking changes one's eyes, but this also reminds me of eyeless skulls: the change of the nadir, where skulls will grow plating to cover the eyes entirely from enough exposure. Considering the links between light and sight, I do wonder if this is related: your vision of the world will change forever, away from that of regular vision (and the way Judgements prefer you to see the world?)

"—your devotions reached us on the dreaming airs, so sweet upon our tongue—"

"—rest among my coils. You have travelled far to be here—"

"—show me your paws; let me test thine sharpness—"

"—claws of silver and eyes afire—"

"—and of your pelt I shall make my bed—"

—pierce me, run me through, let my blood wash over your fur—

"—sip my venom; let me into your vein—"

"—and in these knots what limbs are bound—"

"—do you shiver as I bind you?—"

"—tighter and tighter until your bones collapse—"

"—and with this knot, I take thee—"

"—nothing to fear but each other—"

"—of banded fur and speckled bands—"

"—for a tiger to change his stripes—"

"—do you love what you have become?—"

"—are you sated?—"

"—there exist no two hearts that cannot be joined—"

Do I need to say anything about these.

Parabola and Dreamin'

Parabola is the home of Fingerkings, and where Tigers conduct their sacred war against them to keep the waking world safe, a duty they were raised up for by Stone herself.

—those cold seas beyond the edges of Parabola, where dreams die—

Parabola seems to be only part of the 'Is-Not', or an aspect of it. For example, Irem isn't what Is, but isn't Is-Not either. I'm not sure what this means: perhaps a link to the Slow River.

—the weeping pus of dead dreams—

—the dense dreams of the extinguished—

There's a lot of focus on dead/th dreams, and I have a theory on that I'll get to. Let's just enjoy how many there are.

—the extinguished dreams of the one they drowned—

Oh this is easy, that's Mr E------ (violently silenced by the Masters)

 —the black dreams of flukes, the icy dreams of catankeri—

Many flukes are on a whole bitterly angry about the deal they made with the Bazaar long ago. While rubbery men, their creations, dream of the Sea of Spines, Lorn-Flukes (the pissiest ones) are probably in darker dreams. Cantankeri are from Sunless Skies, in the High Wilderness, very grumpy isopods creatures which attack anything they dislike (most things)

—the faceless dreams of Snuffers—

Snuffers were long ago exiled from the Garden after the first Snuffer, the Thief-of-Faces, stole diamonds from Stone's womb and created Mt. Nomad as a 'weapon to serve its hate'. We don't really know a ton about what went on here. The Thief-of-Faces made the Snuffers in the Garden, but seems to have come from outside it. What is it? What does it want? Unknown. Hate. Snuffers are shapeshifters who can remove people's faces and wear them, so their dreams being faceless is likely because they lack a 'true face'. Faces/lacking is a reoccurring theme in FL tied to identity, with one of the things the Sapphir'd King requires before consuming souls in SSkies being the removal of one's Face and Name.

—if the Sun has a skin, does the Moon—

The Parabolan sun is called The Skin Of The Sun, it was made during the second city and is a glass bulb of iron, glass, and Cosmogone light. The Moon in Parabola resembles a sleeping cat, but we know little else of it. It's never been called 'the skin of the moon'.

—the brass from which their sun was forged—

The Skin of the Sun was forged, but it's never been called brass. Brass is devil associated, you could also call the orange-ish colour of Cosmogone 'brassy', but this is an odd reference.

I FORGOT ABOUT THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN THESUNTHESUNTHESUNTHESUN---

(thanks to @barnabusbarnabus for noting the dawn machine is made of brass!!)

—our caught kin in their galleries and prisons—

'Serpent Galleries' are a way of containing FKs. In stone, I think, I'm not 100% on the specifics but it's certainly a way of trapping them.

—and what blood seeps from their Boil—

The Boil of Calamities is a notable Fingerking who guards the Dome of Scales and the Parabolan Sun, AKA The Skin of The Sun. I'm not sure about it bleeding.

—to knot, to boil, to conjoin, to grow, to blister— 

Fingerkings have a tendency to join together into Congregations, many FKs becoming one complicated knot-entity. The 7th Coil is knotted like this in a way.

It's notable how often this is a reoccuring theme in FL: rats have rat-kings, spiders have spider-councils, there's a lot of creatures out there who present power through unionizing into some form of joined/hiveminded entity.

—the sourceless source of the Writhing River—

The Writhing River is in Parabola, and made of snakes. (There's non-fingerking snakes in Parabola, FK may be more the 'royalty' of sneks). You travel to the source in becoming a Silverer, where you find a rock one snake at a time emerges from, silver trees, and cosmogone sap you made your glasses from.

—can tell you why the Hanging Mountains despise the Smoking Sea—

Places in Parabola, I couldn't tell you why they hate each other though.

—a banner of shed skin—

Parabola is dominated by war, banners and snakeskin, pretty straight forward.

—a hollow shell for hollow kin—

Hard to say exactly. FK can't exist in reality without a vessel, and part of their history with devils is the fact devils are hollow.

—seven marches for seven cats, along the borders of dreaming—

Stone gave cats (and tigers) a mission to protect humanity from FK and the Is-Not, watching over the borders of dreaming. Seven is the number. 7 cats specifically occurs in the dreams you get after drinking Hesperidean Cider, in the 'dreams of the Garden'

The woman stands, her work done. Seven holes in the rich, springy soil. Seven neat mounds. All seven together The woman whistles, and cats slink out of the trees. They play, tumble and purr. Seven cats. The woman is overjoyed. She embraces you. She starts gathering the cats, near the holes.

—she who gave them the spear—

—our spear went slither-slice—

—not come to bring a sword, but a spear—

Spears come up in two places, both might be related: There's the spear the cats have, which was 'liberated from the Sleeping King'. it's used in Light Fingers to crack the Skin of the Sun and is a sacred relic to them.

There's also "a sky-spear" which Might Be A Thunderbolt. I'll get to the Storm connection later but I'm mentioning it now.

Kings and reality and unreality

—Parabola, and the hypocrisies of its creation—

Oh boy!!! LET'S GO! you know how crazy I am about Judgement lore.

Parabola being a 'hypocrisy' is expressed a lot. With Judgements dictating existence and deciding what Is, they're responsible for the line of what Is-Not, and likely the reason Fingerkings aren't allowed to exist.

—admitted unreality so they would not have to fix reality—

So. In ruling reality, the Judgements may have exiled things which didn't belong in their vision of what Is, and created the idea of What Isn't as a way to deal with that. Parabola may be then a dumping ground, or aftereffect of how Judgements prune reality to suit their ideal, hidden away by Being Illegal so others won't realize the reality they control is innately flawed.

—the place where they bury their mistakes—

The Neath has been referred to as something like this a lot. The 'their' may again be Judgements, and Parabola could be where mistakes are buried.

—no king has ever made a law without wishing for exceptions—

Judgements are Kings. They present as infallible gods, but they aren't. They're definitely hypocrites.

—none live by their own rules. It is not only the Mountain's parent who sins—

An accusation that (likely) Judgements do not follow the rules they enforce on others. With that in mind, 'the mountain's parent' is almost certainly the Sun, Sol, rather than the other parent of the Bazaar. The Bazaar is a sinner, but the Sun is the one who still acts as a proper Judgement while having had a secret affair and hiding his daughter in the basement.

—the forsaken products of furtive experiments—

Similar to 'burying their mistakes'. The Neath has been referred to as the Sun's experiment, it's a hiding place of illegal Shames, it's not a far reach to suggest this might be talking about the Neath. It also may be the case Parabola is like this for Judgements.

—what Law forbids, and what dark abides—

The stars have strict laws, but you can get away with a lot in the dark.

—they war as they play, toying, feinting—

Part of other clues around the Sixth Coil is the suggestion the war between FKs and Tigers is a false one or unnecessary one. They're in an ancient, endless war serving ancient forces and grudges... but why must it be this way?

—of dream, they made a cage—

Calling the 'they' here to be Judgements. Parabola is a cage for the Is-Not. Dreams are a prison for what can never be.

—and shapes are dreams before they are born—

But where do dreams come from? What does this mean?

—the burning dreams of wayward words—

—the words afire and the words excised—

—sulphurous and thought-executing fires—

The Correspondance is a language of fire, and the language of reality-defining Judgements. There's three references here to words being forbidden, exiled, violently stopped.

There's been plenty of assumptions and guessing going on throughout this, but here's my big swing:

Thoughts, dreams, words which cannot be by Judgement law are what make up Parabola. Fingerkings themselves may be some aspect of those exiled ideas, or born of them. I keep thinking about the name Fingerkings and the fact Judgements are also kings.

Could they be at all, y'know... the fingers... of Kings...?

Stars burn without end, creating eternal light and in most cases eternal day. Do stars sleep? I doubt it. Do stars dream? Not in sleep.

Do you think stars might want things which cannot be? As much as they shape and dictate reality, they obey the law of each other (to some degree, what with the hypocrisy). What happens then, to daydreams? To forbidden desires? Perhaps those things are burned before they can be born, exiled to unreality before they corrupt the Is.

—a cracked and broken Curve—

Reality, the Is, is called the Curve. It's called this extremely rarely, with my first immediate source being one of the endings of SMEN. It makes sense though: if reality is a Curve, than the reflection is another Curve, forming a Parabola. It's not been called cracked and broken before, but especially with SSkies there's an idea of the cosmos failing and dying. The stars are dying. They can't keep this idea of reality together like they used to, no matter how hard they pretend.

I have another thought on FKs and Judgements, but it involves

Storm!?

—eldest brother, eater-of-aeons—

Storm is an Aeginae, a cosmic dragon which consumes time. He's dead. There's another aeginae in the Neath, but I doubt we're talking about Nook here. Dragons are 'mercenaries' of the stars, and specifically are said to have an 'ancient pact' with them, which is different to how most being who serve Judgements are referred to.

Eldest brother is not something I believe has ever been connected to Storm before though.

—the thunder speaks not to us, my love—

—the mouths of thunderheads—

—the invisible worm, that flies in the night in the howling storm—

The fact there's so many of these connected to Storm really interests me. Especially since I'm about to add a few more. Storm being dead makes him 'invisible', one could say, and language-wise there is very little separating Worm from Wyrm. In fact, you can extend that out a bit: Dragon=Wyrm=Worm=Serpent=Snake.

Aeginae have a shared mother, the Burrower Below, who is said to gnaw at the roots of the world, something which invokes Níðhöggr, a dragon/serpent from Norse mythology. Storm is connected to Norse motifs in other ways, like the urchin Valkyrie.

The use of 'eldest brother' above also means we can tie some of the whispers that refer to siblings and family potentially to Storm:

—pale and wriggling imitations of he who hatched first—

—a thousand thousand siblings— 

—do you see me, siblings? Do you hear— 

The latter is the Coil calling out to FKs, but the link between 'siblings' 'eldest brother' and 'he who hatched first' seems like... something. Especially when you consider what dragons do, which is eat time.

—a thing that eats is a useful thing, if its hungers can be directed—

In Firmament, at one point there's a bit of an illegal timeline hanging around, and it is consumed by Storm. Beyond eating time as a concept, dragon's role may be to eat forbidden timelines. What pact do the Aeginae have with the Stars? Perhaps it's a mutual one: the dragons eat and exile all timelines the stars do not approve of, leaving one Is, and dragons in turn get lots of tasty treats.

Perhaps then Fingerkings are related to this. Born of eaten timeline which can never be, meaning they can never be. Related to dragons, but never allowed to be them. Maybe up close an Aeginae is just a billion tightly wound serpents. They do have enough eyes for it.

Other Lore Bits

—clocks, maps, glass, breath, hearts—

Treacheries!! These are ways the Neath isn't quite Right, the way existence can be a bit unreliable. Basically. The treachery of maps is why distance and location are unreliable or inconsistent. The one of clocks is why you can do an action which the story says takes 3 weeks but still have it be Auguest 22nd at the end of it. There's said to be seven of them, and 'hearts' is new to the list.

—all shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well—

This is a common phrase that appears all across FL in a variety of ways. The Bazaar is often linked to it but so is everyone else. It's from Julian of Norwich

—Salt spoke to us before he left, but we do not remember—

Omg hiiii Salt!! The notion Salt spoke to the Seventh Coil is a mysterious one. How, when, and why did he stop by? Who's to say. After, he exited east out of the universe

—when the Nadir touched the Zenith—

The Nadir is the place of forgetting, full of irrigo, and part of what hides the Neath from Judgements so well. The Zenith is on the roof. I'd bet it's a place of remembering, but we haven't seen it yet. It's full of scribes. When they touched would be before the Neath was carved out of the earth.

—the cleaving-places where gravity is shorn—

Gravity is surprisingly consistent in the Neath, for being a rather lawless place. There's some idea of messing with and changing it using red science. The use of 'cleaving-places' calls to mind the roof to me, and the idea of the Nadir/Zenith once touching.

—needles to bind, bones to fold, glue to keep—

Very evocative of the Librarians in the Stacks, part of Firmament. There's much to the idea of people, timelines, realities as books, so there may be something to 'bind' and 'keep' here: laying down exactly what Is and Isn't by the process of archiving and defining it. Perhaps

—amalgamy that begat the Hound of Heaven—

Not totally sure still what happens when you 'Breed' monsters in the Labirynth, but this is how the Hound of Heaven is made: a snake that sniffs out devils. the amalgamy here is the act of creating a weird hybrid offspring, and similar to the creation of the 7th coil in that way.

—no mouth—

oh hey no-king :) This is a phrase related to the Discordance.

—from the First, a bronze mirror—

—from the Second, a dream of sunlight—

��from the Third, the taste of blood—

—from the Fourth, iron bars—

—from the Fifth, a craving of feathers—

The bronze mirror means 'the first mirrors' aka the entrance to Parabola. We didn't have perfect glass mirrors for a long time historically.

The dream of sunlight is the creation of the Parabolan Sun.

The third city is notable for being when the god-eaters and Mr Eaten occurred, though that's less Parabola related.

The fourth city was marked with a lot of conflict with Parabola. I'm assuming this is connected to that somehow.

I don't know what the craving of feathers means. I immediately think of flight, the desire to ascend, icarus, but how that links specifically to London and Parabola I'm not sure.

—pay with a little of the Will-Be rendered into the Might-Have-Been—

This is from if you take a certain Terrible Deal in Irem. Irem is 'will be',. 'What might have been' could be Parabola, could be the Stacks, could be something else.

—a lie, of course. But all lies can be made true, in time—

The division between true and false comes up often. What is true? Who decides it? A king can lie and that lie can become reality.

Literary references

Shoutout to house-of-mirrors for pointing out most of these. I. don't know my Old Proper English Literary references very well </3

—in that sleep of death, what dreams may come—

Hamlet. The dreams of the dead can be visited with Cardinal's Honey, or black honey, though those dreams seem to be unique to the honey rather than 'the dreams of people who are dead'.

—to break one's staff; bury one's book—

The Tempest. Very evocative of giving up power and leaving it behind, as it is in the original context.

—blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage—

King Leer. Also about storms and raging, like a certain dragon we know!

—vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts—

King Leer again, from the same scene. Few notable words to FL here: thunderbolts for Storm, but also courier relating to the Bazaar. (I doubt in this case courier means the bazaar though, just pointing out)

—shall I compare thee to a moonlit night—

Sonnet 18, originally is 'summer's day'. Moonlight represents possibility and dreams.

—but a walking shadow—

Macbeth.

—you have but slumbered here—

Midsummer night's dream. Link obvious.

—did he who made the Lamb make thee—

The Tyger, by Willaim Blake. Poem was referenced with the reoccurring dreams had during the Estival. Lamb like this usually means Jesus, it in full context of the poem is a line like 'did god who made the goodness of the lamb also make the ferociousness of the tiger? why?'. The poem also has a line of 'When the stars threw down their spears' which might be relevant to the several mentions of spears already covered.

EDIT:

"—of banded fur and speckled bands—"

Sherlock Holmes short story!

—the invisible worm, that flies in the night in the howling storm—

The Sick Rose by William Blake!

Other dregs

—what you think is a labyrinth may be a maze—

A labyrinth is traditionally actually a singular winding path, where a maze has branching paths and dead ends. Is the labyrinth of tigers a maze after all, with wrong ways? Or perhaps reality is not a singular winding path but one with many branches, constantly being sheared off...

(lost it when this hint came out because the labyrinth/maze idea of reality and judgements is something I'd just written into the latest chapter of my suncrab fanfic lol)

—see your heat, little mouse—

The 7th Coil is talking to us directly here as we search the coil.

—the heart is the heart is the heart— 

Also the name of the play the bohemians put on during the Estival! Hearts are important. There's a lot of em out there.

—yes yes yes yes yes—

Similar to the want want want want want want text you get for Temptation's presence within the coil.

—animal that you are, little more than squirming fluid—

Probably just the Coil watching us.

—writhing in the shadow they cast—

Hard to extrapolate much specific meaning here beyond the fact the FKs exist in the shadow of reality (and the Neath does too). The use of 'they' in this has often been suggestive of Judgements, so yeah: light is needed to cast a shadow, a shadow is a place without light, certain things writhe and live there

—those things which preceded them—

I try not to be stuck with my head in the stars but also another case where I think you could read the 'them' here to be Judgements. But it's been put here in the dregs because it's another very vague one that could mean anything.

With the idea of Judgements as unjust-kings who claim to be truly divine but are as fallible as their subjects, you have the idea of what there was before Judgements. Was there a before? If the Judgements truly aren't all-gods who have always dictated reality, then there must have been. Probably.

—and I shall not climb upon the scaffold they have made for me—

A very evocative phrase I can't confidently sort!

I think it could be related to the rejection of power and the way of kings: both the Tiger Prince and the Fingerking who became the 7th coil rejected their elevated places to commit the sin of love and chose each other. 'I will not stand up there above all, though they say it is My Place'

---

Anyway! These have been my many thoughts. I'm sure I'm missing stuff or a bit off or anything else... Please, feel free to talk about it with me! I want to know people's thoughts. I've held a torch for the Storm/Dragons/Snakes link for a while so seeing a bunch of hints that back me up was really exciting, but I also know I can be a bit blinded by how open to interpretation a lot of FL lore is. I see that crab everywhere....

[gffa]

TALES OF THE EMPIRE wound up being a mixed bag for me, there was a lot I enjoyed but there was a lot that just felt really unfulfilled. Morgan's episodes were very pretty to look at but I couldn't help thinking--the entire time I was watching, even--that Filoni's not great at creating new characters that can carry entire episodes like this, none of this felt particularly necessary or like it was fulfilling a void that I wanted to know more about. It doesn't help that I still think her arc in live action was badly handled, that if she was meant to be a Nightsister from the beginning, her first episode should have dealt with that, instead of springing it on us later, so when filling in the background of her on Dathomir in TOTE, it brings all that up for me again.

Morgan's first episode was so pretty and it was interesting to potentially get more Dathomir lore (even if it's incredibly thin and I felt it was too close to the "we see others suffering in the galaxy, but we don't want to get our own hands dirty by fighting for other people or getting involved in helping others, btw we're morally better for that :)" trope for me personally) but everything on Corvus just felt superfluous to me and I spent time trying to figure out why I felt that way. If they had done her story this way or that way, would I have enjoyed it more? If they had included this or that, would I have thought it more necessary?

And ultimately I just kept coming back to that I don't really care about Morgan Elsbeth enough that I wanted three animated shorts dedicated to her, when I could have had so many other characters get fleshed out better. I appreciated that they were showing two characters on opposite journeys, that Morgan was falling into the dark step by step, while Barriss was slowly clawing her way out of it, but that's about all that I appreciated of Morgan's story (other than the beautiful animation).

But I'm not sure I feel like Morgan's motivations were all that well planned out. It's clear that she's looking for revenge and trying to find a new family at the same time, but it's not really clear why she's working with the Empire or how she thinks this leads her to her goals. Grievous is the one who murdered her village, how does working with the Empire (as the Separatists were folded into the Empire, too) achieve that goal? Who or what is her revenge focused on? Is it that she just wants the whole galaxy to burn, because if her village burned, so should everyone else? I feel like that's probably what they were going for, but that it could have been more coherently written.

Barriss' episodes hit a lot harder, where I'm glad that she at least got an arc, but I feel like it just missed so many marks, like why even have Vader there, I'm all for gratuitous Anakin cameos, he's my trash can man and I'm always excited to see him, but absolutely nothing was done with him, despite that he was looking Barriss right in the face there. Not even a moment of showing the audience, "Oh, his soul is so far into the dark of fear, hate, and rage that he doesn't even care about her anymore." Just nothing there, like there was no connection at all. How do you go to the lengths of putting Vader in a scene with Barriss and then treat it like there's no history between her and Anakin??? So completely unsatisfying!

And then it's another series where other guest appearances would have made sense--Barriss has a whole unfinished story with Ahsoka and you don't include her here? I'm as tired of Filoni putting Ahsoka in everything as anyone else, but here it would have made sense and would have brought that relationship full circle on-screen, Barriss' betrayal of her and her clawing her way back to the light after all the trauma and hurt, there's so much she and Ahsoka would have between them. And then nothing.

Or Barriss' relationship with Luminara, TCW never really got into how that must have felt for Luminara, to have her student betray the Jedi so profoundly, for her to fall to the dark, there's such a well of potential there and it's just entirely ignored. She mentions Luminara once and it was a lovely mention, but there's no sense of resolution or completion to that arc.

I did enjoy her story with Lyn and I try not to compare what the show wanted to do with what I wanted the show to do, but I couldn't help it. During all those scenes, all I could think was that this could have been so much more powerful and complete if it had focus on Barriss' established relationships and characters I already care about, because a new random Inquisitor is just not going to hold the same weight for me as my pre-investment in Ahsoka and Luminara. (On the other hand, with the way they butchered Luminara in the last season of TCW, maybe I dodged a bullet!)

For all that negativity, though, I really loved that Barriss found herself in being a healer again, that she found the light again. That's all I've wanted for my girl!!!! (That and put a headdress on her, ffs.) I legitimately took in a hard breath when she said, "Then you have one more Jedi to deal with." because Barriss is still working through too much to fully come back to clarity re: the Jedi at that point , but when it really came down to it, when she really saw what the dark side really was, part of her still was a Jedi. And the way she spoke of her time as a Jedi, once she had a clearer, lighter head again, was sweet, I was so surprised that we got that much from her, but I'm so glad because, if nothing else, Barriss herself deserves to be in the light again.

The way she was settled into her own skin by the time she confronted Lyn on the icy planet, the way she genuinely wanted to help her, but wouldn't let her hurt innocent children, the way she could sidestep Lyn's predictable moves and could stop the blade with just a hand held out, she found her path and what she wanted to do, and oh it was so lovely to see Barriss finding herself again. I loved so much that her unshakable compassion did reach Lyn, it was such a satisfying arc for Barriss to reach that place after all the people she'd hurt. I loved so much that Barriss getting back to this place does a lot to remind us that her foundation is a compassionate one, even if she was lost to the dark for awhile.

I just wish that there had been acknowledgement of those she hurt, the people that died because of her, the betrayal she stabbed people in the back with, rather than just "sees the dark side is bad, walks away, finds the light again", which goes back to that this feels like a generic story that's mostly impactful because I'm filling in the gaps myself because I already know Barriss as a character, rather than that it continues the story that was previously told about her.

At the end of the day, I enjoyed it and I recognize that I'm being a little unfair in how I'm saying I wanted this, this, and this, rather than digesting what the show itself wanted to do, but when you're crafting two stories that are specifically about showing us the journey of two characters that originate elsewhere, you're drawing on the stories from those other origins--except TOTE decided to only halfway do that. There's a lot to love in these shorts, the animation was incredible, the voice work was incredible, Barriss' emotional journey was incredible and I'm so thankful that they even gave her any kind of compassionate resolution. But the specter of how much the shorts ignored hangs over it too heavily for me to say that they were anywhere near what they could have been imo.

[allyallyorange]

The End of The Beast

AT AU Master Post

Shall I lore dump a bit?

CW // description of violence

Basically during the time Yeosang and 2ho are dimension hopping, Mingi’s fire powers start really getting out of control. He gets in an argument with Wooyoung and he realizes that he is getting too dangerous to be around his friends, he can’t guarantee he’ll be able to stop himself from turning into the beast and like setting the house on fire. So he decides to leave.

Hongjoong and Woosan try to bring him back but they always seem to be a step behind. It’s easy to find where he’s been cus he leaves a trail of destruction but they can never catch up.

One night when brainstorming how they could get Mingi to wake up/break the curse Wooyoung says they should just cut off Mingi’s hand at this point. When Hongjoong starts actually considering it San shuts it down cus he’s absolutely not willing to go that far and severely injure their friend.

Hongjoong doesn’t like the idea of hurting Mingi but he’s tried Everything he could possibly think of to break Mingi’s curse, he’s spent like 600 years looking for a way to break it. He tells Wooyoung that when they find Mingi, he’s got a plan, and he needs Wooyoung to just trust him on this. Wooyoung agrees.

Team Yeosang return home. They were away for about a month and a half Universe A time. Hongjoong announces that they’re all gonna go out to hunt for Mingi now that they’re all together, and hey Mingi’s always had a special connection with 2Ho maybe they’ll be able to snap him out of it (this is not the real plan).

Wooyoung tells Yeosang secretly that Joong has an idea that everyone may or may not seriously disagree with but they might need Yeosang’s help to make it work. Yeosang feels a little bad when he looks back on how he’d acted towards the others after Seonghwa’s death, so he agrees to please Wooyoung.

They find Mingi and the plan goes like this

1) fight him like usual and see if he just wakes up on his own (does not work)

2) tire him out with San’s ice, shrink the flames down

3) Hongjoong takes control of San’s body. Hongjoong has always had this ability but he avoids using it since it’s kinda messed up to do to someone. But basically both San and Hongjoong are fully conscious but Hongjoong is controlling San’s movements and San can basically see everything and react and talk but he can only try his best to get control back. Hongjoong is a lot more powerful than San though so although San makes it difficult, and throws off the accuracy of Joong’s movements, he can’t get him out of his head.

Usually the plan is to diminish The Beast’s flames and hope when there aren’t any left that Mingi just snaps out of it, but this time the goal is to get straight to Mingi.

Wooyoung holds 2Ho back in a cage of vines, they are very unhappy with this, they can’t see what’s going on but they can hear San screaming at Hongjoong to stop whatever it is he’s doing.

Hongjoong struggles to get San to fight Mingi all the way down, so Woo calls for Yeosang to knock him down, which he does. Mingi’s still The Beast so he’s very much still on fire, Yeosang is a vampire so he heals quickly, but the fire still hurts. He still manages to get close enough to bring Mingi down.

Hongjoong makes a move and stabs Mingi, truthfully he’d been aiming for maybe forearm but struck all the way up at the shoulder. San fighting back made Joong’s aim truly horrible, but it was too late to take it back atp. So Joong commits to taking Mingi’s whole right arm off.

Mingi’s screaming and thrashing around and San is screaming for Hongjoong to stop it. As soon as Mingi’s arm is fully detached the fire stops. Hongjoong leaves San’s head immediately after.

That’s enough I think! It’s kind of a lot of info but the AU has a LOT of info!!!

I hope you enjoyed!!

[clarencethemouse]

Bleeding Light (pt. 1)

Nightcrawler x reader

because I'm feral and no one can stop me :)

This has been festering rotting in my brain for a week. This reads like a whole story (and a long one, because I have a lot of thoughts), but my brain spouts better as bullets. So it's bullets. But as a story. Enjoy :))

(also I totally may write out a proper story later. But you get the lore right now)

the Pining.

let it be known that it was mutual. And it was mutual for a Long Time

You were already with someone else when you two met. With his never-ending charm, wit, and kindness, it didn't take long for you to hit it off as good friends.

this soon became a close friendship, often closer emotionally than you were with your partner. You were a mutant, unbeknownst to your partner (out of shame). You trusted them, and they respected mutants, but by the time you gained the courage to tell them, you felt it was too late to risk losing their trust over such a crucial lie. So you maintained this front, masterfully, for over a year

with Kurt, you didn't feel the need to hide. He understood. With him, you could bond and relate life stories in ways you could never with your long-term partner.

it was soon that you began to realize your feelings for Kurt were stretching farther than any other friendship before. And that you liked Kurt more than you ever loved your partner

this tore you up, and you became wracked with guilt. You didn't know how to end it with your partner, though you knew it had to be done. You still loved and cherished the person you spent the last year with, but it wasn't fair to them

over the last several months you two had planned a future together. It was a critical time of your life to gain independence, move out of home, and start your own journeys of life. For so long, you wanted to start this new life with them. It wasn't so simple as breaking up. Their, and your, near future was built upon the assumption that you would marry, as you did love them.

but not as much as you liked Kurt.

Your choice was made when you finally sat down with them and revealed your mutation. One thin cut was made on your hand. Light poured from the skin, igniting both of your faces in shock and fear. As the white blood trickled down your palm, your partner demanded why. Why could you keep this from them? Why did you withhold such an important part of you for so long?

when you could provide no answer they deserved, they walked out.

with your future with them obliterated, you had nowhere to turn. Nowhere to go to escape the psychological torture (and emotional abuse) of your parents' failed marriage. When you turned to Kurt for a deep shoulder to cry on, he provided an answer. An answer he knew would be best for you, and cursed himself that he was more excited about what it could mean for him. The X-Mansion

it only took mere days before you packed everything of value and were stationed at the mansion. It didn't take long for Kurt to convince the professor to let you stay, at least for as long as it took you to get on your feet on your own (and he wanted you to stay because... reasons).

you were more than happy to suggest doing your part as a teacher for the school

settling into the flow of the school, and life so close to people just like you, was a struggle eased by Kurt. He was the new kid before, and just as he had Rogue, you had him.

soon you built your own social circle and support group of friends, fitting perfectly into the puzzle that is the X-Men family. Soon, you were able to grieve your lost love and move on with the world you were always meant for.

...it did not take long for everyone to notice the brighter smiles you offered Kurt. The glances you sent him after making your witty, slightly dirty comments. How he was the first person you sat with during movie night, resting your head on his shoulder as you both grew tired. How you distracted yourself during end-of-the-day classes, searching for him in the hall through the window in your classroom door. How he was the only one you didn't hide the blinding paper cuts and golden scraped knees from.

and it did not take long for everyone to notice the way his tail whipped more excitedly the instant you entered the room. The way he recalled you explaining your day so enthusiastically as if you were the brightest, most wise creature to grace the planet. The way he was always the first to appear by your side after a more gruesome training session, examining every inch of your visible body more thoroughly than Beast. The way when he would let you down after a piggyback ride, his smile faltered ever so slightly to stop touching you.

so Rogue and Gambit formed a plan. Because that's what good friends do

she worked on whittling you down to admit it to yourself. He was happy to encourage Kurt to take more forward action with you. Jubilee soon joined in the plan, and soon there was a whole network of friends conspiring to get you two together because GOD WE ALL SEE IT. THE STUDENTS SEE IT. THE PIGEONS SEE IT. CHARLES AND JEAN HAVE TO SEE IT IN YOUR MINDS EVERY DAMN DAY. GET A ROOM.

and it works

Rogue got it out of you quickly. She was able to help you sort out your feelings and stop feeling so guilty about the past. You did what had to be done, and you never would have been truly happy with your old partner living a life of lies. But you can't lie to Kurt. He knew you deeper than anyone without even trying, and you wished to God he could know you a little better.

it took a month before Gambit was finally able to convince Kurt that you were struggling just the same. Because as much as the man flirted, teased, and worked himself into our attention by any means possible, he could not shake the dreaded pit feeling that you were still someone else's. You were still just out of his reach, and he would never know the feeling of your beautiful lips; your hands beyond high fives and thumb wrestling matches. Never have the honor to show the world everything he wished he could have with you

Kurt met you on the mansion roof. You were minding your business; reading a book and playing with light over the shadows. You didn't want to come inside. And if you were on the roof, that's where Kurt was gonna make himself comfortable. He would hang by the cell tower by just his tail if it meant you would talk to him. Anything if it meant he could tell you the truth.

it started with you looking over at him in a moment of silence, when you truly had no inclination to think he was there with any ulterior motive. Just one thought on the tip of your tongue

"You're so beautiful."

kurt.exe has stopped working

neither of you left the roof. The night wrapped with your head on his chest and his hand in your hair, him wondering where the absolute Hell it all went wrong.

you did wake up around 2 a.m. Sitting up abruptly at the surprise of your position, you were met with Kurt's golden eyes already awake and on you. No one beyond you two knows what happened on the roof that night, but your relationship changed. No more hiding.

when you returned to your lives the next morning, the others didn't need to be told that the mission was successful. Your smiles and bright eyes shared the whole story

[ariseur]

hi, can i request how dante and vergil would act after having an argument with reader? thanks!

sparda twins after an argument 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

dante x reader, vergil x reader

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

i hope you guys remember that i’m a ffvii AND a devil may cry acc, don’t be afraid to request for dmc 😭😭

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

intended lowercase, one spoiler for vergils lore (?), arguments ofc, lmk if i missed anything!!

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ 𝓓ANTE — 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

❥ i can’t see you and dante getting into arguments often. the only things that would lead to a fight is dante being concerned about getting you involved in his work (if you’re a devil hunter), or you worrying about how he’s too nonchalant when he eventually does get injured.

❥ even then though, he makes sure to not say things he doesn’t mean. but even after an argument, it’s like he replays it back in his head when he’s alone, thinking of every word and if it actually did offend you or not.

❥ in the case that it’s a lower to moderate argument— dante’s so fuckin goofy, he’s the type to still kiss your cheek to wake you up and make you terribly cooked breakfast to see if you’ll forgive him. up to you whether or not you do but he’d try to spoil you with whatever money he has. i’d suggest coaxing him to use that money to pay the bills instead 😭

❥ but if it was a big argument, i think it’d be pretty silent for a while. i can see dante apologizing first depending on how old he is (what game it’s set in). the younger he is, the more emotionally inept he’ll be.

❥ in the case that it’s older dante, he’ll give you an apology although he doesn’t expect you to forgive him, he just wants you to know he’s sorry.

❥ regardless of his age though, dante will leave you be until you come to him saying that you feel better. there’s no point in chasing after someone who needs space. if you cup a wild bird in your hands, the only thing it wants to do is escape.

❥ i see dante as pretty decent when talking it out though, he just wants nothing more than for the silent treatment to just simmer down so that when you’re both feeling calm and okay, you can talk it out reasonably. and the make-up sex is even more awesome.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ 𝓥ERGIL — 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

❥ as stated before in my previous hcs for vergil, he is a silent lover!! no difference whether he’s calm or angry, he silently brews. i cant see vergil getting into arguments much either, but the only difference between him and dante is that vergil brushes the topics off unless it comes to you.

❥ for instance, you get hurt? he doesn’t play lmao

❥ he might be a little harsh but considering he spent a lot of his time in hell, his social cues are kinda off. he never yells at you, but it lowkey hurts when he’s like a mom who can’t show she’s mad in public as he’s whisper yelling about how you’re not supposed to be so careless.

❥ vergil never yells, always talking lowly in that precise tone of his. however, he’s just so calculated with his words, making it more difficult when you try your attempts at a rebuttal. his sharp tongue would probably get him into trouble if you piss him off enough / if he super worried, though. might say something he’ll regret later.

❥ if it’s a small argument, he either acts like nothing happened or he overanalyzes it and overcompensates with his ‘apology’— which is sitting you down on the couch as he makes you feel like you’re in an intervention while you guys talk it out 😭

❥ if it’s a bigger argument, he’ll probably give you the silent treatment. he won’t talk about it and he won’t talk to you for a while, preferring his space over anything while he calms down.

❥ his pride stands in the way of him actually apologizing to you, especially if he recognizes the argument was his fault after a while. so you might have to be the one to confront him first.

[unironicallytes]

HELLO EVERYONE I HAVE SOME THINGS TO SAY ABOUT ASTRID!!!

(Discussion and sharing of thoughts encouraged even if they're opposing viewpoints, please join me in the sandbox)

In working on Dear Brother's timeline, I've been revisiting a lot of the canon even around the Skyrim era, and I find Astrid so much more compelling and sympathetic nowadays. I used to dislike her a lot, because I was coming fresh off of Oblivion and also hadn't deep-fried my brain in lore yet. I was playing the Skyrim DBh with @orfeoarte last night and we got to talking about her again, specifically about how she's probably having a crisis of faith during the game.

Like, in thinking about the entire Dark Brotherhood questline from Astrid's perspective ... she's the matron of the last Sanctuary. They haven't had a Listener since 4E188 - that's 14 whole years without a religious leader, organizational leader, or any of the Black Hand for that matter. (As far as I can tell, Rasha sounded like a Speaker from Cheydinhal, and he lasted until 4E189 according to Cicero's journals.)

Basically, up until this point, Falkreath stayed functional due to Astrid's leadership alone, and Astrid herself went through that bearing the knowledge that their gods had probably abandoned them. That's a lot to deal with. Imagine the absolute inner turmoil of turning your back on the Brotherhood's religion, because there's no point in holding to a spiritual leader that refuses to lead. Maybe Astrid had spent a few of those 14 years mourning, wondering why she'd received no guidance; but eventually, she had to amputate that part of herself and move on because no one else was going to do it for her. She would've needed to focus on the survival of the order that was left, rather than cling to the ashes of the one that was dead and gone. Besides, the latter seems to have collapsed in on itself because the Hand couldn't even agree on how to move forward, so why would she follow their lead?

All that being said, 14 years pass, Astrid keeps it together, keeps the last remaining family together ... then suddenly out of fucking nowhere, Cicero shows up with the Night Mother herself, spouting the old ways. A bit jarring, a bit poor taste - it's not his fault, he has no idea what this Sanctuary might have been through. He hasn't interacted with family members at all for these 14 years, and he probably expected them to be exactly as he remembered them. And then, barely any time into Cicero's arrival, the Night Mother finally chooses someone, and it's Astrid's newest recruit.

Like, how dare she, after all these years of abandonment? Wouldn't that infuriate you? In Astrid's eyes, the Night Mother hasn't done shit for her. No wonder Astrid's immediate reaction and tone is basically "are you fucking kidding me" followed by "I need time to process this." It makes a lot of sense that she resists the return to tradition, both from a leadership level and from a personal level. No wonder she shatters through Tenet 1 in front of Cicero and everyone, no wonder she tries to get you removed from the equation, too.

Extremely interesting character right there!!! I am spinning her on the microwave plate-- ..... ....... ah, well, uh. I suppose the Penitus Oculatus did that already, poor choice of words.

[fandomwritingbit]

Too good to be true

william afton x (fem) police reader

synopsis: A two part series about William destroying your life.

It's your first homicide case as a detective, a young child murdered with no tangible leads and you're eager to bring the evil bastard to justice. It's a lot of pressure though, and to much weight on your shoulders leads to questionable decision making.

warnings: child murder, smut, swearing, drinking, domestic arguing/marital problems. just generally mature themes.

A/n: As always this isn't steeped in fnaf lore, just purely from my silly little brain. I'm so glad to finally have this out and be back on here to obsess over men. Hope you like it Xx

“It’s okay, take your time.”

The social worker smiled kindly, hoping that the pleasant expression would hide how her heart was breaking at the words leaving this child’s mouth. It’s harrowing to hear, the topic of death should never be exposed to kids this young, at least not in the cruel fashion it had been mere hours ago. “We can take a break if you want, get a snack?” 

The little lad shakes his head, at only seven years old he knows it’s better to get the story over with. Never before had so many adults been so interested in what he has to say, this is serious. Even if he doesn’t understand what happened, he does understand the finality of it. The scary, definitive nature of what’s happened. He’ll never see his friend again. “Can I have some juice?” The boy asks quietly, his voice the epitome of innocence. It makes the social worker’s eyes sting. The lead officer smiles wryly. 

“Sure you can, Josh. Shall I go?” The lady switches her attention from the child to the pair of cops sitting across from them. 

“No, I’ll go.” You interject, not wanting you and your superior left alone with the weight of this child’s emotions. He hasn’t cried, but you can see the tears brimming beneath his surface. You look Josh in the face and try to speak as kindly as his companion, “Do you like orange?”

He just nods. 

…

The room was heavy in silence during your brief absence, you were only gone a couple of minutes, the vast majority of the time spent in thought over the canteen sink. You were promoted to detective only a year ago and so far the cases you’ve been assigned were of little intensity, drunken brawling, verbal domestics, thefts and robberies. And now a child was dead, murdered, and it has utterly devastated the community. But as upsetting as it is, this is an opportunity for career growth, even if you already feel out of your depth. 

The crime scene was brutal, the child laid in the outside storage of a restaurant, face down, multiple stab wounds. Blood smeared on the ground that your splatter analyst said horrifyingly suggests that the child dragged themselves closer to the door, only stopping when they no longer had the strength to continue. No murder weapon. There are no obvious suspects, every man and his dog within a 2 mile radius was pulled in for questioning. But the lack of witnesses and the hole in the chain fence leading to the area was a hindrance. The only lead you have is Josh because, unfortunately, he found the body. 

You bring the child his drink, handing it to him before sitting down next to the lead officer, mentally steeling yourself for questioning.

“So, Josh.” Your colleague begins, talking to children doesn’t come naturally to him, but you see him trying. “I asked you, what time did you last see the vict- Mary?” He corrects himself, but all three of you know what he was going to say. 

 “I’m not sure.” He answers in a tiny voice. 

He goes to ask again, sitting forward, but you stop him, cutting in to ask the boy in a different way. “I know you all sang happy birthday to the birthday boy at around half twelve. Did Mary get a slice of cake?” The social worker puts her hand on the little lad’s shoulder, whilst he thinks. 

After a moment, he says, “No. Auntie Carol asked if she wanted one but she wasn’t there.” 

“Okay, thank you.” You smile, before turning to the other officer, talking quietly, “Coroner said T.O.D was between 12:00 and 13:00.” 

He agrees, “So it’s looking closer to twelve.” 

~

There was a group of people waiting outside to be questioned, parents, staff, everyone who may have a shred of information and your precinct was struggling to manage it. The deceased’s parents have already been spoken to and ruled out, and so, in the main interview room another detective set about tackling the restaurant’s staff. 

“Mr Afton, we just have a few more questions to go over.” The middle-aged policeman lifts his gaze from his documents to look at the restaurant owner over the top of his glasses. He sees the businessman nod in response. There’s nothing to implicate this fella, no motive, no evidence, but he has a previous so caution was to be taken. 

With the question ready on his tongue, the officer sits back in the chair. “How often do people go out to the outside storage?”

He meets the man’s eyes, it’s not the first time he’s been under police scrutiny, probably won’t be the last, but the gravity of this investigation is severe. Not wanting to play any games he just divulges what the cop wants to know. “Frequently, we keep ingredients out there, and other supplies, people are always in and out.” 

“Even though it’s a fire escape?” There’s doubt in his face. 

William Afton reveals a small smile then, he can’t quite figure out what the copper is getting at, “Yeah, there’s a cinder block out there to keep it open. I disconnected the alarm a long time ago.”  

The policeman writes that down, it may go over the interviewee’s head but it’s an important question. The killer had to access the area somehow. And either they knew of the fire door and its cinder block or the gap in the fence. A crime of opportunity, from someone who knows the area well, that’s the takeaway. 

Looking up from the sheet, the DI asks another question, “And I understand that you and your partner are more handsoff with the day to day, but were you there at the party?”

“I oversaw arrival and seating.” Afton halts but the detective says nothing, it’s clearly unsatisfactory. “... There were two more kids than discussed, it caused some tension. I left Henry to deal with things.” He elaborates dryly, the tone indicates boredom but that’s to be expected after having waited hours for this conversation. 

“Tension?” The officer asks curiously, his eyebrows raised in a most provoking way.

William remembers to keep himself professional, maybe he could have worded that better. He tries again, “Well, it wasn’t ideal. Waiters had to set extra places and find more chairs. It was a fuss.” 

That seems to resonate better with the detective because he nods, some understanding written in his expression, Afton has to stifle the satisfaction that gives him. 

The copper consults his papers again before deciding he’s gotten enough, he stands, taking his glasses off and letting them hang on the chain around his neck. “Right, I’ll let you get back home. We have your contact information and we’ll be in touch.” 

With a tight-lipped smile, William follows suit, pushing the chair back and standing. An old impulse to stick his hands out for the cuffs being greatly fought, it was a different time, different station, different crime, but the same old William.

He shakes the detective’s hand, the standing difference of the two is almost comical but neither of them show any signs of amusement. He’s led out the cold interrogation room into the life of the precinct corridor, there’s a lot going on, a mix of uniformed and non officers and some of his staff still awaiting questioning. 

But before the policeman can get away, William let’s some curiosity free of its constraints. “Have you spoken to Henry yet?” The man meets his eyes, no longer as stoic as he was during the interview, the burden of inquisition must be a heavy one. 

“No. I’ll be handling staff enquiries. Your partner should be in later on. 4 o’clock I think.” William nods, and the officer now no longer concerned with him, heads off down the hallway. He should do the same, he’ll have to sign out, he remembers that from last time too. 

As he’s walking back towards reception, a door opens in front of him, a flash of cream walls and a green sofa, before a woman exists holding the hand of a small child that he recognises. He stands aside to let them pass, watching a male officer leave, followed by a female one: you. 

You hear the social worker's voice grow quieter as they leave you to lock the door, your keys jangling as you turn the stiff lock. Your mind is so engrossed in theories, you’re wanting to talk to DI Donnelly about the staff profiling and see if anything has come up in the way of a suspect. You’re so engrossed that you don’t think to look behind you before moving. 

The very moment you step out you collide with the hardness of a human body much bigger than yours. You stumble from the surprise of it, and large hands catch your waist to stop you tripping. It’s a very intimate way to touch someone and you gasp from the suddenness.

“Ay watch it, lady cop.” The bloke says, when you turn to see who you’ve just accosted, you see an older man with perhaps the most handsome crooked grin you’ve ever seen. 

Choosing to ignore the casual sexism of that you go for a, “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” 

Cos you weren’t looking, he thinks to himself but doesn’t say anything aloud, you do look sorry and you’re cute. For a rozzer.  

“You’re alright.” He excuses you, raising his eyebrows. 

The only other thing exchanged was a mutual nod of regard before the man walked away towards the exit, leaving you to wonder what role he must play in all of this. 

~

William drives home without the radio, lost in a deep track of convoluted thought. He’ll reach out to Henry later, see if anything’s changed. He doesn't think it will, despite the taskforce on this case he thinks it’ll go cold pretty fast. Children capture the news interest every now and then but once the media has no evidence or case progress to get its hooks into, the case is dead in the water. Unless the parents have the money to keep pushing it.

He pulls outside his house, turning the engine off but not leaving immediately. He’s about to step into the circus here, no doubt his wife has been waiting in bated breath, anxious for any news. He sighs, he probably should have drove around a bit longer knowing she was holding her breath, maybe he’d have got lucky. 

He drags his feet on the mat before stepping inside, he hasn’t been outside today but it’s force of habit at this point, then he chucks his jacket towards the hook and closes the door. Sighing again, he sits on the second step to take his shoes off, already on edge at how quiet this fucking house is. She emerges as he reaches for the other shoe, arms folded over her chest like she’s already disapproving of something. 

“So? What happened?” Clara’s tone is brisk and strained thin. It sounds like she’s been crying, though he can’t imagine why when it’s him that has to face the bobbies. 

He scoffs, “They asked me some questions.” Everything about him is closed right now, and if she knew him at all she’d leave it for a while. 

“And?” She’s pissing him off, she’s too prickly to talk to like this. She’s worried, wants to know what’s going to happen, what is happening, but it’s not his responsibility to console her like some fretful little kid. 

“I answered them.” She scowls, how can he be like this, so indifferent? Like nothing’s happening, making her feel like she’s overreacting or going mad, maybe both. 

“For fuck’s sake, Will.” Her voice cracks with frustration and she pauses a second to regain herself. Immediately losing it once she begins speaking, “Do they know who did it? Do they have someone in custody? Will, when are they going to take the fucking body out of your restaurant?!”

He laughs a little then and stands from the stairs, “Why would I know that? The police will be taking care of that, or the coroners, I don’t fucking know.”

“Don’t know, or don’t care?” There’s tears streaming down his wife’s face and he can’t cope. 

“Does it matter?” He looks particularly harsh right now, a sharpness in his gaze and tone that’s like a razor and again her face twists in disgust. 

William rubs the bridge of his nose, allowing his eyes to close for a moment of respite from the headache only Clara can claw out of him. With a deep breath he bends down and picks up his shoes, moving then to pick up his coat from the floor where it landed. He’s not staying, not with her wound tight as a wire-trap and not in a good way. 

“What are you doing?” Her voice is quiet now, trying her hand at reasoning. He’s past that though. 

“Going out, I can’t deal with you now.” He doesn’t even put the shoes back on, just carries them out with him, shutting the door heavily behind him. Leaving her to her. 

~

It’s about to hit 8pm before you leave the station, it's been a long day but you hardly noticed what with how busy you’ve been. Your questioning didn't end with Josh, and even after talking to four other witnesses, you had your paperwork to do, then discussion with your colleagues. Everyone on the case has their own theories but at this point that’s all they are: theories. Nothing concrete and no real inclination into what to press next.

You change before leaving, knowing that you’re too restless to just go home, you need to be alone with your thoughts over a cold drink. So you get in your car picturing the hotel only a few minutes from your flat, the business-y one with the nice bar and the clientele that will leave you alone. That’s your ticket for that cold drink. 

Music plays as you drive there, a CD you’ve made compiling your favourite tunes, it should help take your mind off the horrors you’ve seen today but it doesn’t. You can pull yourself away from the crime scene, that poor child in the centre of it, nor the distant look in young Josh’s eyes. No matter how much you enjoy the song playing, it's just not enough to distract you. 

You park easy enough, a weekday night means that the car park isn’t completely full so you manage to get close to the entrance. Which you’re glad of when the moment your car door opens specks of rain tap your skin. Looks like the weather’s about as miserable as you feel. 

The hotel bar is all dark furniture and yellow lights, a soft, warm and dark oasis and you feel relief to step inside. It’s a swish bar, not the kind of place to get a pint, even if that’s what you’re craving, it’s a nice glass with a hefty price bar. And so as you approach the bartender you’re thinking of what you want.

There’s only a few stools at the bar, seven or eight at a glance, and they’re mostly full. A gap between two gentlemen both very focused on their drinks, but you don’t want to get chatted up right now, especially from either side. At the otherside there’s two empty ones but one has a jacket laid over it and a drink on the counter. But needs must. 

You sit, taking your coat off and laying it over your legs, smiling politely at the bartender. 

…

“There you are.” The barman reappears in front of you, setting your drink down on the counter, “That’ll be £3.30, please.” 

You scoff a little at that, mentally complaining about how the world’s gone mad with these prices, but you obediently reach into your bag for your wallet, a five pound note soon between your fingers. 

“Thank you.” Your hand is raised for your change, you’ll tip later, at this point you don’t know how many drinks you’ll be having. 

As the barman is digging around the till for your change the occupier of the seat beside you returns, neglecting to pick up his jacket in favour of sitting on it. You blank the man, receiving your change with a “Cheers,” for the bloke. 

You sip the drink through the little straw, it’s nice to be fair and just what you need after today. You’re ready to forget about it, but you’re becoming increasingly aware of the figure next to you looking at you, and any kind of scrutiny is too much right now. So you turn to it, and you recognise the man immediately. 

The man you’d bumped into earlier, who you’d since found out a lot about from his interviewer.

“Well, if it isn’t the lady copper. What are the chances of that?” There’s a casualness to his tone and posture that suggests he’s perhaps nearing the point of one drink too many. That’s what prevents your usual curt response of ‘just copper is fine’.

You don't smile, don't show any signs of the polite mannerisms he’d expect, just look at him objectively and he can tell you’re analysing the shit out of him. “Oh I remember you.” You start plainly, wanting to get back to the solitude you came here for. “By which I mean, I have since found out who you are.” It’s designed to be standoffish, encourage him to keep to himself, and play to what you learned about the man from his record: he shouldn’t like the police. 

It doesn’t work though, the glasses of whiskey he's had tonight make the very blunt and sober way you’re talking to him more than amusing. And it shows on his face, “Ah someone’s been through some files.” The ways he’s grinning irks you, but if this was any other day in any other place you’d be swivelling yourself around to talk properly to the attractive man beside you. “Bumped into me and had to find out more, I get it.” 

Your expression remains stern, he must be drunk as a lord or at least confident as one to say that. “I recognised your… photograph; the man who walked into me and called me ‘lady cop’.” He owns the restaurant the victim was murdered in, he’s a key figure in this case, you shouldn’t really be talking to him at all, let alone in a bar. But your drink was expensive and you’re not going to fucking leave it. “William Afton.” You say his name offhandedly, no feeling on it, but he still likes how pretty it sounds off your tongue. 

“You can say mugshot, darling, I’m aware I have one.” He snickers at the look on your face, you were trying to preserve him some dignity in your wording, so much for that. The bloke sticks out his hand for you, “Just William will do it.” 

You take his hand before your mind can overcome your manners, introducing yourself as, “DC L/n.” He has a firm handshake, much more respectable than the bitten down nails on his larger than most hands. Then again, he’s a larger than most fella, sat next to you now his feet are completely rested on the floor, whereas yours are tucked neatly on the bar of the stool. 

He chuckles at the formality, fucking Detective Constable, you really aren’t budging off your high horse, are you? Normally he’d give up on someone being this clearly closed off with him, but not tonight. He’s starved of the chatter and drink has alway made him want to make new friends, especially when they're as cute and grumpy as you. You need cheering up, and he needs the challenge.

“We’re not at the station now, love. What’s your name?” He watches the frown on your face grow that little bit stronger and has to hide the smirk on his face behind the rim of his drink. 

“It’s definitely not ‘love’.” Your voice is firm and you let the silence that follows it sit for a few seconds. But then you consider who you’re doing this for. It’s not yourself, you don’t want to be rude to anyone, let alone a tipsy person who probably doesn't know how annoying he’s being. You’re not doing it for work, there’s no boss here to remind you of your conduct, there’s been no suggestion of his involvement, even with the previous convictions. So why not take your mind off things with some meaningless conversation?

You sigh, then tell him your first name.  

“So… is this your regular?” You ask the cliche question in some effort to force yourself into normality, thinking about any other way to ask him if he comes here often, hoping he won't catch on to how his answer might impact if you come back here again. 

His eyes narrow at the change in your manner, but he goes along with it, “No. No, I’m just taking a break from domestic bliss.” The words are sarcastic enough that you gather their meaning easily, unhappy at home, coming out to get away from it, it’s fair enough. You nod, mentally clocking the silver band on his left hand and chiding yourself instantly. That’s not the kind of distraction you came here for. 

“And what has you here?” He can take a guess, a long, bloody day at work, sufficient to make most people thirsty, but curiosity nips at him, he wants to know how senior you are, what your role in the whole shitshow is. More than that he wants to know what’s come of the police’s incessant questioning, and what ammo they have.

An incredulous laugh leaves you, “Just the joy of work, you know. A lot of difficult things to think about- I already know I’ll never sleep tonight.” You’re only half joking, even with a few more g&ts you don’t see yourself getting any rest. 

You sip your drink, realising all of a sudden that you’re not far from needing another. And as you pull the glass away the man beside you says, “Oh, I could help you with that.” 

Turning to him straight away, you’re practically scowling. What a thing to fucking say. 

At your disdainful expression he adds, through a wicked smirk, “Night nurse- you know the little bottle? That usually sorts me out.” All his suggestiveness dropped, and now you look silly for overreacting. 

“Aren’t you funny.” Despite the palpable sarcasm on the words you are smiling, just a little, you can’t help it, your facade draining faster than your gin. You swirl the liquid around, thinking over your words before you say them, you know better than the harmlessness of this, even if you wish you didn’t. “You’re being awfully chummy with me and I’m not sure why. I can’t and won’t tell you about the case.” 

You try to hold back the sharp edge of those words but even said nicely they’re cutting. 

It doesn't faze him though, and he leans a little closer like he’s jokingly telling you a secret. “I’m half-cut, lovely. I’d be chummy with anyone sat here, especially if they need cheering up as much as you do.”

You let your expression soften a bit, there’s a relief from what he said that there shouldn’t be. “Based on your file, I’d have thought you’d sooner switch seats than sit next to me.” You smirk as you speak, teasing but it’s based in truth. 

“Oh calm down.” He’s shaking his head at you, “I’ve nowt against the police, it’s only a job. Until today I hadn’t seen the inside of a police station for going on 20 years. It sounds like you’re the one with prejudices.” He’s openly mocking you now, and you can see why, but he can say what he likes, it doesn’t change what you read. 

The officer’s scrawl was plain to see: ‘Fucking filth’ he said to PC Markham, right before headbutting him, adding assault of an officer to his other charges. 

“You don’t think people can change then?” He asks, more seriously than anything else he’s said tonight. 

You think about it, going over both sides of the argument in your head whilst he waits expectantly. You arrive at, “I think… If they want it enough, then yeah.”  

He shrugs then, back to wearing a striking grin, “Well, don’t worry then. I’m good at getting what I want.”

Yeah, I’ll bet you are, you think, trying to hide the thought from your face. Opting to only say, “You’re insufferable.” under your breath.

“No, just drunk. I think I need a water.” There’s a new self-deprecation to his tone and it amuses you. WIlliam glances at your empty glass and already knows you’ll be having another. He likes this back and forth, it’s good fun, much more entertaining than the chat he’d be having at home right now. 

He leans forward a bit to catch the bartender's attention, “Will you get us another one of these and a water, thanks mate.” He slides your glass forward for the man to see and he nods, going about the order. 

“Oh, you were serious.” You say, partially to yourself, it’s hard to tell with this man. That’s probably the trouble.

He sits back, “Yeah, I’ll have to keep myself sharp if you’re sitting with me, sweetheart.” 

You grin, yeah there’s the fucking trouble. 

~

You don’t know how another drink turned into three. And how three turned into you watching him get a hotel room, his elbows on the desk as he talks to the receptionist. And how that turned into keys in his pocket, the two of you getting in a lift. And then your hands pulling on his shirt to get him close enough you can kiss him, his tall frame pressing you against the wall of the lift. 

You don’t think about how stupid this is as you’re doing it, you’re too distracted by the heat of him and the all encompassing way his tongue is in your mouth. You moan into the kiss, knuckles taunt with his shirt fabric balled up in them. You’re not drunk, you know what you’re doing. The alcohol isn’t affecting your judgement, it’s only making your blood warm and helping stoke the heat flickering in your core.

He doesn’t hesitate in touching you, neither of you worried about discovery, hands on your hips soon sliding low and squeezing your arse. You gasp a little as his touch brings you to your tippy-toes. The kiss is broken and has your lips tracing down his jaw, on his neck then shamelessly sucking his earlobe. You can feel how much he likes that digging into your stomach and your body rings with want. 

His hands are under your shirt before the lift stops, doors opening to reveal a man waiting, a suitcase by his side. You push the man off you, struggling not to laugh, especially when a quick glance reveals that William is. Hot in the face, you right yourself as the man drags his case into the small space, your skirt pulled back down and shirt buttoned back up.

“Uh we’re still going up, mate.” William says, snickering. 

“Only one floor.” The man responds bluntly, clearly not wanting any interaction with the two degenerates he’s just uncovered. 

You share a look with William, that has you pressing your lips together to stifle laughter. He looks very dishevelled, you hand’t noticed quite how hard you’d been going at him, his shirt is creased and his hair is a fucking mess. God knows what you look like. 

It seems to take a long time to go up one floor, but the very second the doors open you and William are quick to leave. 

“What a nice chap.” He sniggers and you can finally laugh away some of that embarrassment, how stupid the both of you are, but nothing to be done now. The only compromise you can make now is to keep your hands to yourself until you’re in a more private setting, but that’s easier said than done when your core is tight with need. 

Following his form, you try to take mental note of how to get out of here, so many beige corridors to wind around before you’re standing in front of the room this near stranger has purchased. You watch him put the key in the lock and for just a moment you listen to your mind. It’s not a good idea, it’s unprofessional, inappropriate and a host of other things but you’re warm between your legs and the want to continue what was interrupted outweighs reason. 

He lets you inside before him and you turn to catch his eyes low on your body, making you grin unwillingly. It’s a nice room, as swanky as the bar downstairs, long flowy curtains shrouding huge windows and a load more pillows on the bed than necessary. 

William looks around the room more pragmatically, he wants another drink and there’s got to be something in here, a fancy place like this always has opportunity to spend more money. There’s an odd cabinet a good distance from the foot of the bed, and when he opens it lo and behold an incognito fridge. “You want another drink?” 

You look over to William on his knees looking at what you quickly realise is a minibar, curiosity brings you closer and the prices make you wince. You don’t know how this man has it in him to drink, you’re tipsy enough just standing there. “You trying to impress me or something?” You say laughing, “Surely the room was pricey enough.”

He shrugs and gets to his feet. A black labelled bottle placed on the counter, he can’t decide what he wants to indulge in first because you are looking very tempting.  You see a look of mischief pass over his face before he says, “Well, in for a penny, in for a pound… which you absolutely are, love.” He delivers that with the smarmiest smirk you’ve ever seen, and a disbelieving laugh escapes you, it’s needlessly full-on but embarrassingly it does work in making heat between your legs flicker back bright. 

Still somewhat taken aback you just say, “...You’re shameless.” 

It just makes him chuckle, as the evenings gone on you’ve only gotten easier to fluster. “Oh and you’re so prim and proper?” That’s clearly amused him because his tone is dripping with sarcasm. You maintain your eye contact with the man, trying to curb excitement in your blood, you’re aware he’s gotten much closer to you and the prospect is delicious. “I don’t think so, no with how you accosted me in that lift, there for anyone to see.” 

He doesn’t need to add ‘And someone did see,’ because that grimy feeling has again caught up with you, you look away then, trying not to think about how disgusted that man looked earlier. It sucks because your usual level-headedness has shagged off and you seem to be making a lot of questionable decisions. 

You’re speaking before the embarrassed thoughts are coherent, “Well, I- That’s not something I’d… normally…” You trail off because of the clear enjoyment on his face.

“Come on, are you a police officer or a fucking nun?” He teases, “Looking so ashamed. You do know what we’ve come up here to do, right?” 

The mockery gives you a hit of bravery, and you shrug, “Yeah. I’m just waiting for you to stop talking.” You give the last words heavy exasperation and watch that achingly handsome grin slowly spread on his face. 

He listens to you. 

It’s criminal how eagerly you’re pulling at his clothes, struggling with buttons as dexterity is lost in your fingers to the way your body is reacting to his. There’s little elegance, only your tongue back in his mouth as your shirt is taken off, then your body pulled away from the wall behind you to let him unhook your bra. It’s quick but you still resent how long it’s taking to get what you want. 

He’s playing with your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh before tugging your hardened nipple between his fingers, it pulls a gasp from you. You’re giggling a little as his action makes it harder to concentrate on what you’re doing. You finally manage to pull the shirt from him, leaving it to crumple on the floor. His body feels good against yours, firm and hot, hair on his chest that you rake your fingers through, leading all the way down to his belt. 

His touch is everywhere on you except where you want it most, taking in your curves and again grabbing a handful of your behind. You’re restless, rubbing your legs together for a fraction of the friction your core is demanding, all this fleeting touch is mounting into impatience. William notices and you feel the movement of his hands up to your waistband, where they skirt teasingly around. 

You moan some encouragement into his mouth, tilting your hips for better access. But he pulls away from you, smirking to himself. “Take your skirt off for me, love. I’ve tried but for the life of me I can’t find the zip.” 

Despite your impatience, you can’t help but laugh, clearly pride had kept him silent for a fair while. “Here then.” You say through your amusement, placing a hand flat on his chest and pushing him lightly, guiding him a pace and a half back until he gets the hint to sit on the bed. 

From there he watches you half dressed as far as your waist as you catch hold of the zip on the side of your pencil skirt and pull it down. You step out of it, leaving your shoes under the fabric, a smug expression on your face. He looks good sitting there and a guilty thought flickers through your head at how lucky his wife is. 

That thought is cut short when he says, “Come here.” Not giving you much choice when he catches your wrist and manoeuvres you himself, your panties still on but the wet patch on them somehow more revealing than you imagine being fully nude will be. 

“Damn.” He grins, leaving you standing before him, his hand tracing the waistband of your knickers before sliding between your legs. You let him, spreading your stance for his access. He follows the shape of your pussy over the material, watching how it clings to your heat. Soon after he slides under the fabric and toys with the abundance of slick waiting there.

You moan at the static sensation buzzing in your core, it’s exactly what you wanted but still a lot and you have to steady yourself on his shoulders. He finds your clit and begins to draw patterns over the nerves that soon have your legs weak. He brings your end into your sights before altering the movement, and the whiplash is near devastating. He snickers when a disapproving frown rests on your face, adjusting his position to press his fingers inside you, willing to give you what you want. Fucking his fingers in and out of you he keeps up with the stimulation on your clit, the pace only quickening when your grip tightens on his shoulders. Your peak rises fast and you fall over it, walls fluttering tight around his digits as your climax washes over you, pulling some desperate noise out of you. 

Before your legs are even steady again, you’re desperate for more. So you push him back on the bed, bending down to tackle his belt buckle. The bulge in his trousers is practically taunting you and you’re eager to feel more and think less. 

WIlliam’s voice pulls you from your inept action. “Demanding, aren’t we?” He mocks. 

You look at him as levelly as you can, your pupils big from your fading pleasure. You know the answer before you speak, “Do you want me to stop?” 

He doesn’t say anything, only reaches down to help you take off the belt, pulling the trousers down and holding you steady so he can lean and shove them off. You take hold of his hardness, now only hidden by his underwear, revelling in the soft grunt that leaves him. He’s deliciously thick in your hands and drunk on it you straddle him, now palming him between your legs. Only now do you think about the condoms in your handbag, knowing you should pull away from him and retrieve them. But that rationale is drowned out by your cunt drooling, begging for immediate stimulation. 

Your touch isn’t enough for him, he just wants to feel your warmth wrapped snug around him, so he acts, flicking your hands aside to free his dick. He sits against your stomach, thick and long and almost instantly you’re sliding your slick along him, pussy twitching in anticipation.

His hand on your hip moves you back so he can line himself up with your hole, no more play, no more teasing. He guides you down, a small gasp leaving you as he presses inside. It’s more than you thought and your walls burn with the stretch of taking him; you still yourself for a moment, thighs hovering just above his whilst you try to get used to the fullness of accommodating him. Your respite is cut short when he starts to thrust up into you, sniggering at the surprised moan that escapes you and how your body is almost trying to run away from him. He holds you still, lost in the perfect way your cunt is swallowing him. Soon you’re taking him properly, riding him deep with stuttering breath, pathetic noises leaving you when his cock pressed against the spot inside you that makes you crumble. You’re so focused on your imminent pleasure sparking into life sharpish, you nearly miss the change in the man below you. 

“Fuck- that’s it.” He groans, his hands roaming your body. You’re doing the majority of the work, bouncing on him so fucking perfectly and grinding your bundle of nerves against him. Your fluttering walls are telling but he’s hanging onto his edge by a thread, just enough sense about him to help speed up your climax. 

You jolt when he suddenly begins rubbing your clit, his hand splayed on your abdomen. It’s a lot and you’re holding on to him tighter and tighter, fingernails digging harder and harder into his shoulders until you’re falling into the waves of bliss. Your back arches as you come, each pulse of your climax making you shiver. Your cunt squeezes around him tight and just like that he’s gone. He thrusts into you a few more times, pushing his release deep inside you,  the pace inconsistent as he rides it out. 

Both of you still, and you listen to his quickened breath as your pussy still flutters around him, you’re all over goosebumps but you hardly notice, too focused on the warmth trickling around him and settling between your legs. 

~

You don’t stop there. You get next to no sleep, spending the rest of the night clutching the headboard, then with your face buried in the dishevelled sheets. Later with your leg hooked over the hips of this man, dirty words dripping from your lips pushing him to give you more. Hours spent having easily some of the best sex you’ve ever had. Until the two of you have no more to give. 

It’s still dark, but a look at your watch tells you the day’s not far from arriving and so, you move. Taking yourself from the disordered bed and into the cool of the room. Your clothes are strewn all over and you begin to gather them one by one, aware you’re under the scrutiny of the man you’re leaving behind. 

You’re halfway through putting them back on when William decides he should probably do the same. You watch from the corner of your eye as he stands up unashamedly naked and even after you’ve had your share you still appreciate the sight, which you then realise he was probably doing to you before getting up.  

He moves to pick up his underwear, wincing through his teeth at the action, making you turn towards him with pinched brows. You see him raise his arm up and run his hand along his shoulders, his expression difficult to read. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask with uncertainty, a part of you thinking that there’s no way he’s as sore as you are, you feel like you’ve spent hours on the bucking broncos. 

“Wait-” He sounds confused but when he turns to walk over to a mirror on the wall your eyes go wide with understanding. You’ve left your mark on him alright: long scratches on his shoulders and back, each bringing back a memory of the night’s activity. 

When he sees, his instant reaction is to laugh but fucking hell, it’s pretty bad. How the hell hadn’t he noticed? 

You have a hand over your mouth, partially in shock, partially to hide the incredulous laughter begging to be shown. “Oh god, I’m sorry.” You say, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your giggling to yourself, “I didn’t-”

“That is…” He cuts you off unintentionally, chuckling in disbelief as he looks from the mirror to you, then back again, “unambiguous… What the fuck am I supposed to tell my wife?” 

You snort. “I don’t know. Shit. I didn’t think I… did that.” You hadn’t even thought about it, about how all traces of you on this man are liable to destroy a marriage, though to be fair, you’re not often a homewrecker. 

“Well, it was definitely you, sweetheart. Shit.” You’re lucky that he’s found this amusing and not gone the other way, but his marriage is dead on the rocks anyway, if Clara showed any interest in taking his shirt off he’d be looking around for a hidden camera.

…

You and William part ways soon after, part of you wanting to see him again, the rest knowing that that’s probably not a good idea. But the morning seems to be running away with itself and you don’t have time to think about it, it’s already nearly 7am and you've got to be at the station by 9. 

That doesn’t stop you from reliving the night over and over during your commute though.

As good a time as you’ve had you can’t shake the feeling that it was perhaps too good to be true.

If you made it to the end, thank you sm, you guys reading my stuff is my motivation to keep being excessively horny x

[starsandhughes]

Penalty Box Series— Universal With The Panthers

23-24 Masterlist

ik so many of y’all don’t particularly care for the panthers, but it’s got mackie and an adoption!!

yourusername

liked by slknight35, trevorzegras, and 10,852 others

yourusername when my rat (aka ratty matty) told me that the panthers were taking on universal studios during our weekly facetime, you KNOW i had to hop on a plane! here’s the highlights!

1. spency and i spent way too much money on souvenirs (and by and i i mean him and matty spoiled me despite me being against it)

2. matty would not pretend to die when i shouted avada kedavra at him no matter how many times i did it out of spite (which was RUDE)

3. father monty did die for me when i shouted it at him! (brandon montour, if you’re lame and don’t watch the panthers) he’s my new favorite— sorry about everyone else’s life.

4. i only got lost ONE time (translation: i ran away one time and then had to hold matty or spency’s hand the rest of the day)

5. matty and i have officially adopted mackie as our child!! mackie was fatherless before, so he’s very happy to have a dad!

thanks, boys, for letting me tag along! i love each and every one of you soooo much! i’ve missed spencer and matty more than words, and spending the day with them meant so much to me❤️

tagged matthew_tkachuk, slkight35, mackie.samo, and others

view all 266 comments

matthew_tkachuk i wish knighty gave me a warning about your tendency to walk off, but i loved seeing you, little mouse! i love you lots!

yourusername i love you, too, my rat! mwah!

slknight35 @/matthew_tkachuk i wrongfully assumed she stopped that after senior year

_quinnhughes @/slknight35 she’s gotten worse

jackhughes @/slknight35 we’ve invested in air tags

matthew_tkachuk @_quinnhughes @.jackhughes and you didn’t tell us?

trevorzegras @/matthew_tkachuk WE DIDN’T KNOW SHE LEFT

trevorzegras YOU LEFT WITHOUT TELLING ME TO GO TO UNIVERSAL?! THAT’S OVER HALFWAY ACROSS THE COUNTRY! AND NOT MY FIRST GUESS!

yourusername i told you i was with my rat and spencer! (who was your first guess?)

trevorzegras yeah, after you landed and finally answered my millionth call! (quinn then jamie)

_quinnhughes @/yourusername we talked about this after you randomly showed up in vancouver

yourusername @_quinnhughes I FORGOT

matthew_tkachuk @/trevorzegras i would’ve told you if i knew she didn’t tell you, i swear

trevorzegras @/matthew_tkachuk for future reference, there’s a 90% chance she forgot to tell anyone she was leaving if she ever shows up

slkight35 @/trevorzegras @_quinnhughes she randomly left to vancouver????

trevorzegras @/slknight35 she randomly left to boston to see you my rookie year and has not stopped since

yourusername @/trevorzegras @_quinnhughes @.slknight35 @/matthew_tkachuk snoop dogg said to live young, wild, and free and i took that to heart. sue me.

user17 AW MACKIE HAS A DAD!!

user24 there is… so much lore in the comments omfg

mackie.samo you didn’t miss me?!?!

yourusername i did! i missed you so much i gave you a father!

mackie.samo you didn’t say it in your caption!

dylanduke25 @/yourusername you’re in danger of losing your mother of the century trophy

lhughes_06 @/yourusername disgusting behavior

edwards.73 @/yourusername you should be ashamed

mackie.samo @/yourusername you clearly have a favorite matthew

yourusername @/mackie.samo @/lhughes_06 @.dylanduke25 @/edwards.73 none of you are my sons for the next hour and six minutes. suffer. cole is now my favorite.

lhughes_06 @/yourusername he wasn’t before?

yourusername @/lhughes_06 no comment

user4 SISSY IS A SLYTHERIN: CONFIRMED

slknight35 us having matching draco wands was essential! i had no choice but to spoil you, sissy

yourusername idc for your logic, i own money!!

slknight35 love you!

yourusername mmf i love you, too

trevorzegras i’d like to announce that my fiancée left me worried sick and did NOT bring me a present to compensate!

yourusername @/trevorzegras matty ratty took my credit card idk what to tell you. i love you, always, though!

trevorzegras @/yourusername somehow, i still love you, forever

flapanthers we’re always happy to have you!

yourusername you’re too sweet❤️

user6 the fact that you still posted embarrassing pictures is my favorite thing

montour i’ll always die for you

yourusername you’re such a real one for that! mwah!

matthew_tkachuk you’re already injured, please don’t die

yourusername @/matthew_tkachuk we get it! you hate me!

matthew_tkachuk @/yourusername we both know that’s not true, little mouse

montour @/matthew_tkachuk you didn’t die for her entertainment

matthew_tkachuk @/montour i have to keep her humble

yourusername @/matthew_tkachuk mmf

user76 okayyy but you look so cute in the first pic!!

jamie.drysdale you randomly left and chose universal over me???

yourusername no, i chose matty and spency over you! plus, you’re coming home! flying to toronto would’ve been redundant

jamie.drysdale i wasn’t signed yet!

yourusername i felt it in bones you’d come home because i love you so much and we’re connected via our souls

jamie.drysdale i love you, too, but i see right through your bullshit!

yourusername i see our connection is hoeing me

trevorzegras @/jamie.drysdale she didn’t even get you a present!

yourusername @/trevorzegras you’re the definition of not helpful

jamie.drysdale @/yourusername if we burn, you burn with us

yourusername @/jamie.drysdale HOW DARE YOU USE THE HUNGER GAMES AGAINST ME?!

jamie.drysdale @/yourusername how dare you not get us presents?

yourusername @/jamie.drysdale touché

jackhughes i’d like to announce that i knew you ran away to somebody and was not concerned

lhughes_06 @/jackhughes you almost cried

jackhughes @/lhughes_06 TRAITOR

yourusername SAP

[thefirstknife]

You are so incredibly knowledgeable about this games lore and I feel like I am going crazy trying to find the answer to this. Maybe you know? Has there ever been an actual answer to why Osiris was so much more powerful than the rest and why he got the visions? Why was he the travelers favourite?

Honestly nobody really knows! Some Guardians just happen to be a lot more powerful and a lot of it definitely has to do with the personal choice to improve; as in, becoming a student and actively learning! Osiris chose to study with the Iron Lords. I'd also assume a Ghost has influence as well: Sagira too was very powerful.

Some of it might also have a lot to do with the amount of time he spent perfecting his skills. With the time dilation of the Infinite Forest, Osiris has lived an unfathomably long life and therefore had more time than most to get better.

Curiously though, he was already high above other Guardians even early on in his life. By early Dark Age, before studying with anyone, he was already using Dawnblade as we know it today. I'm personally of the opinion that he may have invented this in the first place, as the Dawnblade sword is fairly similar to his aesthetics and he used it so early.

Also way before the Infinite Forest, he was famous for the way he fought at Six Fronts; with his reflections. He was able to produce golden copies of himself that enabled him to watch every front in the battle. He was also able to teleport between them to quickly change his position and help on multiple fronts. This is an insane level of skill comparatively with other Guardians at the time. We still have no idea where and how he learned to do this. Or how it's done. There's also still unknown situation with this ability because at one point he specified a difference between "reflections" and "echoes," implying they're two different things:

[u.2:12] Reflections, Saint. I have no need for Echoes anymore. [u.1:13] What do you mean? What’s the difference? [u.2:13] One is a manifestation of Light. The other… reserved for Taken Kings. Better suited for traversing the Sundial because of what lies at its core.

Bestie. What does this mean.

As for visions.... Nobody knows. He claims that his visions are just things he analysed using the Infinite Forest, but he made the prophecies before he went to the Forest. He was exiled for them! Some of them also deal with paracausality, in particular the one about the Traveler waking up at the end of the Red War, something that the Forest would not be able to predict. You'd think this is a writing mistake or something, but it's not. This discrepancy is directly referenced in the lore as weird.

Osiris treats this as "it just be like this" but I personally do think that he's the Traveler's specialest little guy. And Sagira was too. However, was he really and why? Ultimately we don't know.

[dana-chan-the-control-brain]

Fnaf Movie thoughts!

I wanted to ramble some of thoughts and theories I had about the Fnaf Movie.

Cause the brainrot is real and won't leave my brain.

(wow just read back that sentence. Excuse any grammar errors or dumb shit, I'm still very sick)

Below the cut will feature heavy spoilers, so unless you want to be spoiled of the major twists this movie has, I would recommend wait to read this.

I unfortunately couldn't see the movie in my theatres, cause I got horribly sick and wasn't able to get the full theatre experience.

I was able to watch on Peacock, with all my fnaf plushies with a super sinus clogged headache, so that's the mindset I had. lol

Anyway.. Movie time

I absolutely LOVED Mike and Abby. First off.

I didn't even mind a lot of time of the movie was spent AWAY from Freddy's. Because so much is just about learning about Mike and his family and connection to Abby.

Sure, we could have spent the WHOLE movie at Freddy's. But that is not what this movie is about. And it's clearly trying to tell a bigger mystery and this felt a very introduction friendly entry point to anyone confused about the fnaf lore.

I love how completely obsessed Mike is with Dream theory. To the point he's taking heavy duty sleeping pills on his job that he clearly doesn't need and just is doing it so he can relive his dreams/fabricated memories.

The intro credits with the 8-bit style graphics of the minigames in fnaf2-4??? Like bro? I cried. That was so iconic and they fill in the backstory for the purple guy, who actually appears as his sprite??? Like... Man iconic.

Also... Dude... Mike Schmitt in the movie is like... what the Fans wanted Mike in the games to be for YEARS. Like... Mike in the games is nothing. He's a silent face. We know so little about him, and everything else is purely speculative. Even the whole "he was foxy bro and has regret over his brother" ...That's all theory and not confirmed. As far as we know, Crying child and his brother might not even be Afton kids.

But this Mike is EXACTLY the motivations we wanted Mike to have? If that makes sense? He laments his brother was taken at a young age and expresses regret and motivation to want to get him back. he has the motivations that the fandom built for him for years and ran with it, and I LOVE THAT.

FNAF Movie actually gives good reasons why Mike comes back every night, as said in Living Tombstone's iconic song "why do you want to stay?" Cause of his regrets with his brother and his obsession with dream theory and doesn't realize the animatronics are a threat until like... night four.

THE ANIMATRONICS?? THE PUPPETS??? THEY LOOK SO GOOD??? HECK YEAH!!!!

I SCREAMED when I recognized Matpat's voice, and then I saw his face. Reconized him for his voice WAY before I saw his face. I didn't think he'd have a speaking or face cameo and get to say his iconic "it's just a theory" line and about food too??? King shit.

Letting the animatronics have moments where they can just be cute and friendly as well as creepy and bloodthirsty is so great! I want to give them all pets.

THE CHILD ACTORS ARE ALL SO GOOD! To the point you don't even notice! It's often hard to get children to play a convincing performance, but these children acted really well! They must have a real talented director who knew how to get the best of their child actors. You don't even realize that the child actors are great, cause they're so good it's unnoticeable. AMAZING

VANESSA BEING WILLIAM AFTON'S DAUGHTER IS NOTHING SHORT OF BRILLIANT!!!!

I MEAN, I SCREAMED WHEN SHE SAID "William Afton My father"

I was screaming about this in my group chat.

I was screaming for a thousand years.

AND IT makes sense why the cops never found the bodies. Vanessa is a cop! She's covering for her father!

I absolutely LOVE what a girl failure Vanessa is too!

Like she shows up, HEAVILY flirts with Mike (like she was laying it on so thick my demisexual ass was picking up on her vibe) and just shows up to give him exposition on the FNAF lore. fheogheahf. Like. It's great.

(no doubt she was flirting heavily with Mike at the start due to manipulation from her father, I do believe it grows to genuine fondness later)

I've heard people complain about her flipflop nature... BUT THAT's the POINT!

(a literal arcade game in security breach.)

She let Abby play with the animatronics, knowing it was dangerous. Her original plan was to kill Mike, but she changes her plans when she sees he has a kid. (who she thought was his daughter at first) It was only after Abby got injured by Accident, she realized that what a danger she posed by brining them here at all. She only threatened to shoot Mike because she hoped that such an extreme threat would get him to quit. She even tells him about how many security guards quit. But it doesn't.

She even said she tried to warn in her own way. She's terrified of her father. And we get deep foreshadowing about that throughout the movie.

I really hope that in some sequels we will get to see Vanny at some point. Maybe even Springtrap and Vanny working together in the same movie??? CAN YOU IMAGINE THIS?!?!? I WOULD GO FERAL

Anyway, Vanessa is such a girl failure and my girl blorbo. I support her and her woman's wrongs

The minor look of regret after Will stabs his daughter... peak cinema.

The springlock scene... The quiet of the stabs, giving such a realistic collapse... the "I always come back" ...Embracing the monster he knows he is. He is the mask. He isn't hiding behind the mask, like he is being Steve. he is the mask now. Just... Chefs kiss.

The animatronics dragging springtrap away mirrors the ending of Silver Eyes so well, and I'm glad, because that was the best part of the Silver eyes. <3

THE LIVING TOMBSTONE GOT TOP BILLING FOR THE FIRST CREDITS SONG! PERFECT

Garret is 100% going to be the Puppet in the Movie Series. He was the one taken in the car, the spelling out in the minigame sounds at the very end says: "COME FIND HIM" And after Living Tombstone ends, the credits music fades into Grandfather's clock music box... Puppet's song..... Garret will be the Puppet in this universe and I so look forward to that.

I enjoyed the movie. I'm glad that they left the overarching mystery of Garret open to be explored in the sequel.