#so we have plenty of roundabouts

[robertseanleonardthinker]

ok wait hold on. saw a poll on apolladay and i am BAFFLED. gotta follow up on it now

EVERYONE in the tags was like "wtf YES??? why WOULDN'T i signal????" and like. i have NEVER seen anyone do that. in fact, ive been told NOT to. it creates more confusion.

[roguelov]

Scars and All

Summary: For a few years, you have been friends with Trafalgar Law. And for a few years you have harbored a crush on his dad, Donquixote Rosinante. You tried, and tried, to ignore such feelings, but perhaps it’s time to put it all out into the open. No more hiding, you will tell him how you feel. You only hope he will let you down gently.

Word Count: ~8.9k

Reader: fem/afab (reader referred to a sweetheart/sweet girl)

Warnings: SMUT (age gap (reader is in their mid 20s and Cora is 40), breast play, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, praise kink, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, cream pie, dirty talk, small breeding kink, mostly dom!cora), minor angst (denial of feelings), pining, fluff in the end

(Fanart and inspo for the fic by levikra)

The idle rumbling of the car was the only thing keeping you grounded, or was the irritable sensation propelling your already splintered mind into more of a frenzy? You pressed your forehead into the steering wheel. The sun’s ray heated the faux leather, unfortunately not bringing you any relief or comfort. Just more irritation.

This is stupid.

Grumbling, you lifted your head, peering up at the picturesque house. It was simple with a small porch with rickety chairs to recline in, and a worn down welcome mat. Shutters muted by the sun. Its attached garage had its mouths open revealing a sleek vintage car and a motorcycle parked inside.

Plain. Ordinary.

Yet, it was frighteningly daunting. You white-knuckled your steering wheel. Your heart pounded feverishly in your chest. Blood pumped so loud in your ears you could barely discern the jumbled voices from the radio. A song? An interview? Why did it matter? Why were you focusing on such trivial things when -

Dumb. This is so fucking dumb and stupid and - and I should just leave. He wouldn’t -

You banged your head - again - against the steering wheel, growing out in frustration. “What am I doing here,” you asked the rhetorical question in the lone space.

You tilted your head, glancing at your passenger and the reason for the afflictions to your spiraling mind: a plastic container of an assortment of cookies. The container sparkled in the sunlight as if smiling giddily eager to be delivered.

You grumbled to yourself, “Why did I talk myself into this?”

*****

“Ooo, it smells amazing in here!”

You peered over your shoulder, looking back at your friend and housemate, Evelyn. She hungrily eyed all the variety of cookies littered across the kitchen counters cooling and some already packed neatly in containers. Giggling, she snatched up a fresh one, biting into it.

She hummed, smiling at you, “It’s so good.”

Your cheeks warmed and you smiled bashfully, “Thanks.”

She plopped down at one of the dining chairs, happily nibbling on her cookie. “So why’d you make so much? And why did you ask me to help?”

You snickered at her tone and small pout. “Ah well, I wanted to make some chocolate chip cookies but then you saw we had plenty of other ingredients so it just spiraled out of control from there.”

She frowned a bit, deciphering your roundabout words. “Stress baking?”

Your eyes dropped to the side. Caught. “Yeah, kind of.”

“Why?”

You added some cooled cookies into another container. “Well … I was thinking about bringing some to Rosinante .. and I know Law is still doing his shift at the hospital.”

She beamed, finishing off her cookie. “Yeah, I bet they will like them.”

You said nothing, you just closed the container, sealing it tight.

Evelyn watched you for a moment. Your hand nervously patted on your pants, rubbing off the flour and sugar. Your eyes darted around counting and recounting all the cookies. “What’s wrong? What do you think they won’t like them?” She asked.

“Huh? Oh, uh … no, that’s not the issue.” You shuffled side to side. “I thought that maybe I could finally do it.”

She cocked her head. “Do what?”

You fiddled with your fingers. “That … that I could tell Rosinante how I feel.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Really?”

She had known about your crush on him, you had confided in her some time ago. She had even comforted you when a few tears were shed under the veil of night. It wasn’t right to have a crush on your shared friend’s dad. You knew this. You tried to drop it, to let him go, yet with every conversation you had with him you fell a bit more.

“I … I just … I don’t want to keep pretending,” you quietly admitted. “If he doesn’t like me, then so be it … maybe I could finally move on once I hear it from him … it’ll be awkward as hell when we go over there in the future but … I should do this.”

No more delusions or what ifs. Your mind tired of these endless running thoughts every single night.

Eve gave you a reassuring smile. “I’m proud of you.”

You smiled, a small one. You placed a hand on your chest, rubbing the spot over your racing heart.

I got this.

Taking a deep breath, you picked up a perfectly packaged container. You held the container close to your chest, however once you turned to leave you froze.

Seeing your hesitation, Evelyn got up and started pushing you towards the door. “Alright, go.”

You dug your heels into the floor. “But -“

“Nope, now shoo.”

“Actually I - I changed my mind. This is a terrible idea and I don’t want to do the adult thing anymore -“

“It’s a wonderful idea,” she urged you, opening the front door for you. “And he’ll love them.”

And you, she thought.

“I don’t care if he likes the cookies,” you grumbled. “It’s the other thing.”

“You can do it. I know he likes you back -“

You vehemently shook your head, pushing back on her attempts. “I can’t -“

She spun you around, grabbing your arms. Her eyes blazed with determination, far more than your own. “Yes, you can. You said you would do it, so no backing out.”

You hung your head, sighing deeply, “… fine.”

She beamed. “Great! And don’t worry, I’ll keep Law away … for a few hours.”

Your cheeks burned. “Whoa, it won’t -“

With one final shove, you stumbled backwards out the door. She chirped in a cheery tone, “Now, go. And good luck!”

The door then slammed in your face.

*****

Fuck it, just do it!

Shutting off the engine and snatching up the cookies, you hopped out of your car. Every step towards the front door, every time your heart jumped up into your throat. You wanted to turn tail and hide, but how could you go back home? Eve will certainly give you trouble.

I could just sneak inside and hide away in my room.

You muttered to yourself. It was at least a decent idea.

Wrong. All wrong, a voice hissed in the back of your mind. You’re a friend of his kid, why would he even see you like this? You shouldn’t have even entertained this for a second. It’s all wrong.

Your heart ached. You shoved that voice back, locking it in the far recesses of your mind. You didn’t need it whispering in your ear. Again. You just needed to get this all off your chest, you couldn’t bear the weight of this secret anymore. The rejection will sting, it will gut you, and you will cry, but then hopefully you could finally move on.

With a shaky hand, you pressed the doorbell. The chime cut through the silence. You flinched. Glancing over your shoulder, you wondered if anyone was watching this slow disastrous train wreck.

This is a dumb idea. Maybe I could -

The doorknob clicked then opened. You whipped around, staring up at the owner of the home, the father of your friend, and the owner of your heart: Donquixote Rosinante. With a cigarette hanging from his lips, he smiled warmly, “Hey, what brings you around here?”

Matching his smile, you held up the cookies. “I made a bit too much so I thought I would stop by and bring some.”

His eyes lit up. “Really? Thank you, here -“ he moved aside giving you space to step in, “- come on in, you know where the kitchen is.”

You nodded, walking in. Smiling, Rosinante closed the door behind you. You passed by the living room and into the kitchen with Rosinante following behind you. You set down the cookies on the kitchen island. Rosinante circled around the island to the other side. He took his cigarette, flicking the ashes into a small glass tray. His eyes darted over to you. He saw the question written so clearly on your face.

“I know I’m trying to quit. Just please don’t tell, Law,” he said, taking a small drag. “I know the kid is almost a doctor now, but it’s hard to break such an old habit -“ he winked “- it can be our little secret.”

Your heart fluttered. “My lips are sealed.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Joy, unbridled joy and elation, bloomed at the nickname. It brought a warmth unlike any other: sunshine on a snowy winter morning, bonfire on a cool summer night, or a warm blanket wrapped around at night. You couldn’t remember when it started, but you loved it. His deep voice mixed so lovely with the affectionate tone of the name. It was this small insignificant thing that made your heart cling to hope, hope that maybe - just maybe - he felt something.

“Do you mind?” Rosinante pointed at the container.

“Oh! Uh, no please go ahead,” you answered.

He smiled then opened it up. He inhaled the tantalizing decadent aroma. “Smells great.”

He plucked a chocolate chip cookie. Holding his cigarette between his fingers, he took a bite. He hummed. His eyes twinkled with delight. ”This is amazing! You’re a great baker.”

You smiled bashfully. “Thanks.”

Looking at him, your expression softened as he finished the cookie with a smile. However as he ate the last bite, your eyes caught something. “Hey, uh, you have …,” you gestured to a spot on your own cheek.

Rosinante tilted his head. His golden hair swept across his forehead. His innocent face made him appear decades younger.

How can a grown man look so adorable?

You reiterated, “You have some chocolate on your cheek.”

“Oh!” He swiped his thumb across his skin - to where you pointed - then gently sucked the chocolate off. He hummed, licking his lips. “Thanks.”

You kept your voice steady. “No problem.”

He really doesn’t understand what he does to me.

“Any reason you made so many cookies?” Rosinante asked, closing the lid.

You shrugged. “Just wanted some, but then it kind of spiraled into making a bunch of different batches.”

He smiled, leaning on the island. “Well, thank you for sharing. I might eat them all before Law gets a chance to try one.”

You mimicked him, resting your elbows on the island. “No worries, we have plenty back at the house … that is if Eve doesn’t eat them all.”

He snickered and took another drag of his cigarette.

Your eyes skimmed over him. He truly was a golden god, yet wrapped up with some boyish charms. You tore your eyes away. Your heart started to speed up again with the mere thought of spilling everything out in the open. He picked up the cookies, turning his back to you and putting them next to the fridge. It was out of sight, and somewhat hidden for a sweet treat for himself later.

Ok, fuck, breathe. Just - just say it. It’s now or never.

Clearing your throat, you spoke in a shaky voice. “Rosinante?”

He hummed, his back still to you,

I can do it. It’s fine - it’ll be fine.

You took a long deep breath. “I … I have something I want to tell you.”

He froze.

Instantly, he knew where the conversation would go before you could utter another word. The thing was Rosinante wasn’t clueless or oblivious to your infatuation with him. He will admit he didn’t at first, however it all clicked. He saw how you clung to each of his words, how you stared at him when you thought he wasn't watching, how you leaned towards him craving his warmth, or how you always sought out his company. He was surprised, yes, and in heavy denial for some time. But, as weeks passed, his observation and theory only solidified.

He could only hope your crush would pass.

Rosinante twisted around. “Please don’t.”

Most of all, Rosinante hoped and prayed his own attraction to you faded. It started as a small bud in his chest. Yet, the more and more you came around, the more you talked and laughed with him, the more the simple infatuation grew. It rooted its vines deep within his heart, taking hold and control of him. He craved your presence constantly, you were becoming his new addiction.

But, it wasn’t right.

Rosinante sighed heavily. Taking his cigarette, he smothered it out in the ashtray. “I know what you’re about to say.”

You blinked. “You do?”

Does he?

He glanced up, staring directly into your eyes. Why were his eyes so sorrowful? Or … pitiful? “You we’re about to make a confession, were you not?”

Embarrassment. White hot searing embarrassment coursed through you. Your eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights. You quickly dropped your head, hiding your boiling shame. Your hands balled into fists at your sides, nails burying into your palms.

“Please don’t.”

His haunting words replayed on repeat.

Fuck, I was right. Shit -

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing back the tears.

Rosinante frowned. Fuck. Maybe, he shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe, he should have let you speak first. But, he was trying to save you some pain. He moved around the counter, hovering by your side. His hand raised to comfort you. However, when he heard the faint sniffles, his heart clenched and his hand dropped.

Damn it.

“Look, it’s -“

You snapped your head up. You smiled, an awfully forced one that didn’t convince Rosinante in the slightest. Taking a deep breath, you tried to swim faster than the typhoon of emotions hurtling through your mind. “No, you don’t have to explain yourself. I - I understand … I’m sorry, I’ll go.”

It was a long shot, an impossible chance. Why did a part of me believe it would work? How delusional could I be?

You spun on your heels to leave, but Rosinante caught your wrist. He tugged you back. His hands cupped your face, forcing you to stay and look at him. He searched in your frantic eyes to see if he overstepped. But, all he saw was pain trying to be bottled up. “I do owe you an explanation, it’s only right,” he paused, trying to gather his thoughts, “sweetheart, it’s cliche I know but it’s not you, it’s me … I’m … I’m not right for you.”

Your heart - your conflicted heart - flipped. “… what?”

He sighed, “You are kind and wonderful and amazing -“

And everything I could ever hope for, he thought.

“- but I’m broken. I’m old. I’m scarred. I’m - I’m not whole.”

Unlike you.

His words swirled around in your head. Broken. Old. Scarred. “So?” You asked in a quiet voice.

Rosinante’s eyebrows furrowed.

Pushing down your nerves, you pressed on. “Not everyone is perfect and - and without flaws, do you think I am? Do you think I don’t have some sort of scars whether etched into my skin or across my heart?”

He blinked, taken back by your words.

Just spill it all. He … he already knows.

“Only you make me feel like this,” you whispered, dropping your gaze. “Only you can constantly make me laugh and smile, and - and brighten my day. You make me feel seen, heard.”

Rosinante’s heart hammered. “Can - can you look at me?”

Your eyes wearily inched back up. Your eyes were glassy with tears threatening to spill.

He smiled sadly, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone. “Hey, don’t waste your tears on this old fool.”

“Why not?” You muttered, desperately keeping your voice calm. “You’re amazing … why can’t you see that?”

Because I have a complicated past, he bitterly thought. I’m old, past my prime. You deserve better.

“Sweetheart -“

“Please,” you cut him off. “If - if you don’t like me, want me, or - or see me in this way then just please let me go. Don’t make me stay here any longer … but if you do … if you like me in some way … then …”

Your voice trailed off, leaving it up to him to interpret. An admission of his feelings? A kiss? It just had to be some obvious sign. You were trying not to crumble before him.

Please, just let me go.

Rosinante licked his lips. His heart raced sporadically in his chest. What should he do? What was the right thing to do?

To let you go.

To save you - one of his son’s friends - from this broken old man.

But what did he want? What did his heart yearn for?

You. He wanted you, he always wanted you. And maybe this was his only chance at happiness.

Why shouldn’t he at least try?

He leaned down slowly as if waiting for you to run, for you to get out while you could. But, you stayed firm. His face hovered inches above yours. His eyes bore into you searching and deciphering any signs, or tells, that meant regret. He couldn’t. He only saw hope, hope that this wasn’t a fantasy, hope that you could finally love and cherish him as you believed he deserved.

His eyes slid down to your lips, so soft and waiting so patiently. He swallowed a nervous lump in his throat. His eyes flickered back, locking with yours. “I want this, but tell me,” he whispered desperately; his hand now wrapped around the back of your neck holding you firmly, realizing he didn’t want you to run away now, “tell me you want this. I - I just need to hear you say it.”

You hesitantly reached up, touching the side of his face. His chin was slightly prickly unlike his usual kempt appearance. Your hand traced upwards, threading through his blonde locks - that nearly covered those beautiful rustic red eyes of his. “I want this,” you breathed out. “I want you, scars and all.”

Rosinante crashed his lips against yours. He claimed your lips, pouring all this untapped love into it. He wanted - needed - you to know how much you meant to him, how much he wanted this, and how long he had deprived himself of it. His lips parted, darting his tongue along your lips pleading for entrance. You shakily parted your lips, still surprised this was truly happening. Rosinante hummed, slipping his tongue inside. You whimpered faintly. With your head tipped all the way back to accommodate his height, you were truly at his mercy.

And you loved it.

He eagerly explored your mouth, swirling his tongue wanting to taste every part of you. You clung to him, feeling your knees about to buckle. Chocolate and hints of nicotine blossomed over your tongue. His tongue commanded your attention, yet so did his hands. His dexterous hands glided down your body. He awkwardly hunched forward, but he didn’t mind. He had you, he could hold you, touch you. His hands greedily roamed over you, mapping out the curves and lines of your body. He sneakily cupped your rear and thighs, making you gasp. Rosinante smirked against your lips. A quick squeeze and jerk urged you to jump.

And you did.

The ex-marine lifted you up quite easily. Your legs wrapped so wonderfully around his waist, and you threw your arms over his shoulders. However, he couldn’t make it quite far. Taking only a few steps, he stumbled into the wall. You were far too distracted by his lips and touch, you hadn’t noticed his quick reaction: one of his hands cradled your head, protecting it from the wall.

He pulled away from your lips, mumbling, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you panted.

He smiled, wide and beautiful, making his eyes crinkled in an adorable way. He was enthralled with you, and this moment. How could you truly be here in his arms, in his grasp? It was a dream, a dream he didn’t want to ever end. “Can we keep going?” He asked, nudging his nose against yours.

“Please,” you answered.

He captured your lips again, but slower. He wanted to memorize the shape and feeling of your lips. There was precision to his movements, a dance. The ex-marine knew how to maintain control, and how to draw everything out. Each stolen breath, each push and pull of his lips, each slow drag of his tongue, each teasing nibble left you clinging to him.

One of his hands slipped under your shirt, skimming up your back. You shivered at his cool calloused fingers. He murmured, “Soft.”

His fingertips drew nonsensical patterns, or so you thought. He purposefully drew hearts and spirals, carving his unspoken love. His hand moved upward before dragging his blunt nails across your back. He so desperately wished to mark your skin, to put his scar on you.

“Can I take off your shirt?” He begged into your swollen lips.

You didn’t answer. Using the wall as leverage, you haphazardly wiggled out of your shirt and tossed it randomly onto the kitchen floor. Excited and dazed, you didn’t bother to wait for him to ask about your bra. You unhooked it, adding it to the pile. His eyes widened, staring down at your breasts with his slightly mouth agape.

Fuck, this is really happening, he thought.

You nervously bit your lip. Your mind began to second guess his silence.

Shit, did I go too far? What if he didn’t -

Rosinante quickly hoisted you higher up then craned his head down. His lips wrapped perfectly around your breast, sucking on it. You sighed, arching your back to better help him. Your fingers slipped into his hair, holding his head close. Heat pooled in the pit of your stomach. His tongue circled around your nipple. Your lips and mouth had just learned his sensual dance. Every swipe of his tongue, your body shuddered. He teasingly nipped at the bud, making you gasp. He removed his mouth with an audible ‘pop‘ like he wanted you to know how good you tasted, how much it pained him to break away. Yet, he couldn’t neglect the other. He kissed along your chest, hungrily capturing your other breast.

“Rosi,” you breathed out.

Fuck, he loves how that sounded. How could his name send such intense pleasure skyrocketing through his body? His cock jumped in his pants. Gods, he needed to hear it again, and again, and again. His hands squeezed your ass both trying to hold himself back and as if you forced it out of you.

And it worked.

You whimpered.

Faint, yet so sweet.

Pulling away from your breasts, he rested his forehead against yours. Your chests heaved in an odd symphony. The thinnest space separated your lips, your shared breaths mixed together. His air was yours and your air was his, souls were mingling in such close proximity. His eyes shone, all his emotions now officially and completely bare.

No, more hiding. No more denying.

He stole your lips once again, unable to get enough of them. Humming, you arched your back, pressing your now spit covered breasts into him. The tiny bit of friction of your perked nipples across his rough shirt sent sparks of pleasure down your spine. However, and unfortunately, he broke the kiss far too quickly. You eagerly chased after his lips, needing them. Rosinante hid his amused smile. He kissed down your neck, swiping that devious tongue of his over your sensitive skin. He whispered, “You taste like sugar.”

“I - ah - I may have made a mess earlier,” you admitted. “Butter and sugar got everywhere.”

He chuckled. He wanted to say he expected no less from his sweetheart. Sweetness seemed to always pour from you, and he always wanted to drink from you - to always have a taste. For a fleeting moment, he contemplated taking you here. He could lay you across the kitchen island, pour honey across your skin, especially your breasts, and have his way with you. But, he shelved such an idea.

Not today, another time, he promised himself.

“Upstairs?” He asked into your neck.

“Up - fuck.” Rosi nipped at your skin, gently sucking and soothing the spot. His lips curled into a smirk, a smirk you felt burned into your skin. Your head tipped back into the wall as he continued his sweet assault. How could such a kind, sweet man be so conniving, so sly?

“What was that, sweetheart?” He teased in a low tone.

“Upstairs.” You breathlessly added, “Please.”

“Of course.” He pushed off the wall, delicately carrying you up the stairs.

However, since he was so focused on carrying you, you decided to return such delightful favors. You started by peppering his face in adoring kisses from his cheeks, to his nose, then his lips.

He chuckled with a growing smile, “Sweet girl, you need to stop or I might trip.”

“We’ll be fine,” you brushed him off.

Your lips trailed soft butterfly kisses along his prickly jaw and down his neck. Your sweetness turned sinister. You placed a single open mouth kiss on the crook of his neck. He let out a soft pleased sigh. Your teeth then grazed over his skin. His grip on you tightened. You lightly bit him, feeling a shudder run through his body. Smirking, you sucked - viciously and without remorse - on a sensitive spot ensuring you left your mark on him.

His reaction was perfect. He groaned and stumbled backwards into the wall by his bedroom door. The thud resonated through the still home, so much so a few pictures wobbled on the wall threatening to fall. “Shit,” he hissed.

You continued your attack listening to his heated swears under his breath. Once you felt satisfied, you pulled away, eyeing your red spot with a triumphant grin. It will only darken with time, a lovely reminder. Looking into his eyes, they were blown wide with lust and desire which mirrored your own. Smirking, you teasingly nipped his bottom lip. He swore again. Using one hand, he brought your head closer, attacking your lips with new energy. He pried himself off the wall and rushed into his bedroom. He used his muscle memory stumbling and swaying into the room until his shins hit the edge of his bed. Carefully, he laid you down on his sheets.

So gentle, so delicate.

His lips skimmed down to your heaving chest, between your breasts and to your hips. His fingers followed after his lips, tracing down your sides. Your breath stuttered at his feathery touches. His breath fanned over your lower stomach, hitting the waistband of your pants. His eyes flickered up, peering through his eyelashes.

“Can I?” He whispered in such a loving tone.

You nodded, unable to muster up a single syllable.

He undid the buttons of your pants and tugged them down while you lifted your hips to help. He bit the inside of his cheek. So beautiful. His hands traveled up your legs, squishing your thighs. She’s really here. He then spread your legs a bit, and didn’t miss the dark wet patch on your underwear. His chest burned with desire knowing he was responsible. His finger hooked around the band of your underwear. If he could, he would have torn them off already.

“Can these go next,” he asked, continuing to ensure he had your consent with every step.

Your heart skipped. “Y-yeah.”

He pulled them off as calmly as possible, and tossed them aside. Your cunt was dripping. He swore his mouth started to water. Swallowing, he silently drank in your figure, still reeling you were here. He wanted to ravish you, he wanted to make love to you, he wanted to do it all.

However, for you, the silence pressed on for too long. His blank stare morphed into disinterest in your mind. Insecurities bubbled up as it dawned on you how you were now completely naked before him. Your hands covered your chest and you snapped your legs closed.

What am I -

Rosinante’s eyes widened at your sudden change. He immediately climbed onto the bed, over top of you, and removed your hands from your chest. “Please, don’t,” he breathed out. “I - I’m sorry … you’re just so beautiful.”

Your cheeks and chest flooded with heat. You quickly turned your head to the side, hiding.

He cupped your cheek, turning your head back to him. “You are. Please don’t hide from me.”

His soft expression and kind smile eased back the fears. You slowly nodded.

“Good. Here, it’s only fair.” He leaned back and removed his shirt, adding it to the pile on his floor.

Your breath hitched. Your eyes darted all over, taking him all in. So many scars. You propped yourself up on your elbow, reaching out. You carefully traced over each of them, outlining the rigids and harsh ragged shapes. Rosi watched you intensely. A shiver ran down his spine. You were so delicate, as if he were made of glass. Your face filled with some kind of concentration, one he didn’t fully understand.

You asked softly, “Can … can you flip over?”

Stunned a bit, yet Rosi complied. He rolled onto his back into the squeaky mattress. You swiftly straddled his hips. Before he could ask, you bent down kissing one scar by his ribs. His heart leapt up into his throat. You then methodically kissed every single scar - no matter the size nor how gnarly it appeared - all over his chest. You finished your endeavor by kissing the one near his heart, an almost fatal hit. His heart thrummed beneath your lips, and you felt the elated vibrations. You peered up to see his cheeks flushed a rosy red and his lips parted as he tried to calm his breathing. You had rendered this man - this near mammoth of a man - into an utter mess. He was putty under such touches, touches he had long deprived himself of.

You smiled, resting your cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, a beat which your heart harmonized with. “I’m sorry, did I -“

“Don’t.” He let out a shaky exhale. “Don’t apologize. I - I just wasn’t expecting that.”

Your hand followed the curve of his chest to a scar on his right shoulder. You, once again, traced the shape. Rosi shuddered. At his reaction, a thought suddenly dawned on you. “Rosi, are your scars sensitive?”

He rubbed a hand over his face, mumbling, “Just a bit.”

Noted.

You held back a devious smirk. Sitting up, you placed your hands on his chest. Your nails raked down.

Maybe I could have some fun -

Rosi’s hands suddenly gripped your hips. He yanked you all the way up his body. A sharp gasp left your lips. Your hands flung out and collided with the wall for support. Your eyes - wide and somewhat confused - dropped down. You now straddled over his face, your knees on either side. His hands wrapped around your thighs and squeezed, letting the fat pool between his fingers. Most importantly, his grip indicated one thing: he was unwilling to let you go.

“Fuck.” He groaned, looking up at your dripping cunt like it was a meal.

Your heart sped up, “Wait, Rosi - I -“

“Sweetheart, I dreamt of this so many times,” he whispered. His breath, each puff of air, sent jolts through your body. “Please, can I have this?”

No one had begged before.

Trying and failing to keep your voice steady, you stuttered out, “I, uh, y-yes - ah!”

Rosinante eagerly yanked you down, unable to wait another second. Humming, his lips wrapped around you. The tip of his tongue swept over your folds, collecting and tasting you. Sparks burst through you.

“Rosinante,” you moaned. How could one single motion left you so vocal?

He smirked at your reaction as he weaved a spell over you. He moaned as he started devouring you. His tongue teasingly traced your folds. You shuddered. He did it once, twice, then pushed his tongue inside of you. He curled his tongue, hitting your spongy walls. You whimpered. Your hands balled up into fists, clawing at the wall. His tongue - long and thick - moved with precision. His age and experience truly showed in his moment. He knew how to work it, how to render you in his beautiful mess.

He hummed. The wondrous vibrations made you moan loudly and unabashedly. A noise you never expected you to make. One of your hands instinctively shot down and latched onto his hair. Mindless on your growing pleasure, you tugged on his strands, making him groan. More vibrations, more dizzying sensations, more of your juices coated his lips and face.

Rosinante nearly rolled his eyes back. Fuck, this was better than his measly dreams. His cock twitched in his pants at each of your sounds. And gods if you tasted and felt this amazing just around his tongue, then how would it feel to be buried inside of you? Precum spilled in his pants at the mere thought.

Pleasure built deep in your stomach. As his tongue expertly moved and curled in and out of you, you lowered yourself more and greedily rocked your hips to chase after the pleasure. He moaned. His fingers dug harshly into your thighs, possibly leaving bruises.

“That’s it, sweetheart, ride my face,” he purred.

Shit.

Rosinante’s eyes darkened. Your walls fluttered around his tongue at his blunt words. He watched your head tip back as a sweet whimper hummed in the back of your throat.

“Dirty girl,” he murmured with a devious smirk.

His words added to the insatiable heat burning you from the inside out. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the pornogrpahic moans daring to escape. He continued to watch, unwilling to tear his gaze away. He loved how your breasts bounced, tempting him to feast on him again, how your back curled so elegantly, how your thighs slowly squeezed around him minimizing his world so it was you and you alone, and how your hips stuttered losing concentration at his words, his pet names, and his merciless tongue.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” his voice was low and commanding, drawing up such a tone from his former marine days.

You shakily glanced down at him. Your eyes drooped with lust and desperation, your chest heaved gulping down air, and your mouth hung open as whimpers and moans poured out. To him, you were picture perfect, a sight to behold and cherish.

He turned his head, kissing your thigh. “Good, now can you lean forward for me?”

With a tiny nod, you tipped your hips forward.

”That’s it, good girl.”

Your whole body pulsed. Such praise, such simple words shouldn’t set your body ablaze, and yet you nearly crumble. You already wanted to hear that honey tone pour from his lips again.

His lips wrapped around your swollen clit, sucking on it. You inhaled sharply. His hand then caressed down between your thighs. It trailed down with such a light tough until one of his slender fingers dragged slowly through your soaked lips. You lurched at the feeling. He gingerly pushed his finger in. You shut your eyes tight and bit your lip, almost drawing blood. His finger moved painstakingly slow, both wanting to be careful yet also wanting to tease you closer to that edge.

“More,” you begged, already pushing your hips back. “Please.”

Rosinante happily and easily added a second finger. The wet sounds echoed in the room from him hungrily sucking and licking at your clit, to his fingers being drenched in your juices. It was all too much. You pressed your forehead into the wall, closing your eyes. It held all of your support. You were panting, nearly drooling as pleasure claimed your whole body.

Fuck, Rosinante could come at the sight of you like a horny teenager. His cock ached to be free, to be buried within your walls, to be stroked by your delicate fingers, to be wrapped around your tongue, or perhaps to be smushed between your breasts. He wanted it all. But, he also wanted this. He needed this just as much as you did. His pleasure can wait, he wanted to devote all his energy onto you. He hummed again.

Another moan fell off your lips.

Cracking open your eyes, you were greeted with Rosinante’s red glowing eyes beneath you. He then kissed your clit, softly as if giving one a kiss on the cheek, and cooed, “Be a good girl and come all over my face.”

“Fuck,” you swore. He chuckled, a rich laugh. He crooked his finger, hitting a certain spot. You gasped, seeing stars. “T-There, fuck, right there.”

Rosi immediately zoned onto that spot. His fingers bullied into you with new purpose. Each curl, scissoring, of his fingers snatched your breath away. His tongue and mouth, however, could not be forgotten either. He sucked and swirled his tongue, guiding you closer to the edge. You tightened your grip on his hair, nails scraping along his scalp. And he could only moan. Pleasure and pain tangled so well together.

You mewled, “Rosi, I - I about to come.”

“Give it to me,” he growled.

The pressure built and built, and you quickly abandoned all caution and care. You began to grind back on his fingers, practically humping his face. A fog was casted over your mind, only able to think of your pleasure. Rosinante moaned, fueling your end.

Yes, use me, he thought.

A few more pumps of his slender fingers, mixed with his constant attack on your clit, you cried out his name gushing all over his face. The edges of your vision blurred with stars. Rosinante swiftly pulled out his fingers and greedily drank you up. He groaned, enjoying every drop. He feasted until your legs were shaking, ready to topple over and you were whimpering and jerking from the intense overstimulation.

He thankfully - and finally - stopped. He lifted you up and off his face, laying you down on the bed. He then littered your heavy tired body with kisses as you came back to your senses. He kissed your cheek then forehead. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, tossing him a lopsided smile. “I’m good.”

Great. Fantastic. Amazing.

He smiled, giving you a short kiss. He continued his conquest kissing down your neck and chest. You sighed dreamily, threading your fingers through his hair. Your desires, however, were being reignited by every kiss. You still craved more, you wanted him all.

“I want you,” you whispered softly.

He lifted his head with some hesitancy behind his eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You hadn’t been more sure in your life.

“Ok,” he smiled, giving you a quick peck on your lips.

Standing up, you finally could drink in the full sight of him. The years had been so kind to him. He was like a Greek god: golden hair kissed by Apollo and Helios, a rugged physique that battled Ares’s, a booming laughter rivaling Zeus’s own thunder, a voice so rich and luscious like ambrosia poured directly from Dionysus’s cup, and all of it wrapped together and blessed by Aphrodite’s touch.

He was beautiful, more than beautiful he was ethereal.

He tugged down his pants, along with his boxers. Your eyes trailed down to chest, to his stomach, to the thin patch of darker blonde strands to his hard cock - long and thick, matching his already intimidating height. His tip red and swollen as precum leaked out, a sign of your effect on him.

You swallowed nervously.

Would he fit?

Rosinante’s ego inflated at your stunned reaction. He kicked aside the clothing, unfortunately his clumsy curse returned momentarily. Getting tripped up, he toppled sideways, crashing to the ground. You immediately sprung up. Before you could think to ask if he was okay, he propped himself up. His cheeks flushed slightly with embarrassment. He huffed, resting his chin on the edge of the bed.

Smooth, he sarcastically thought to himself.

You bit your lip then bursted out into laughter. You know you shouldn’t, yet you shouldn’t have expected anything less. He perked up, and smiled at your infectious laugh. You crawled over to him, sitting back on your knees. You cupped his face, bending down kissing him softly. Pulling away, Rosinante looked at you as if you brought upon his salvation, as if you were an oasis in the desert of his life.

“Are you okay?” You asked, still concerned about him.

“Yeah,” he smiled.

“Good.”

Still holding his face, you gently drew him with you, urging him back on the bed. He listened to your silent command. You fell backward, scooting up the bed while he slowly crawled over top of you.

“Are you sure?” He repeated.

You threw your arms over his shoulders, bringing him down. “Yes, I want you. Like I said, scars and all.”

His heart melted. He kissed your nose. His hand slid down your side, sending ripples of anticipation. He guided your leg over his hip. He gave your thigh a quick reassuring squeeze. He will happily take the lead in this dance, he will ensure you are cared for. There will be no misstep.

He lowered his hips, brushing the tip of his cock over your dripping folds. You shivered at the size and warmth of him. He teasingly rubbed through your folds and over your clit, enjoying how his precum mixed with your first orgasm. Your nails sunk into his skin. Crescent shapes adorned his body with more marks to come.

“We’ll take it slow, ok?” He whispered.

“Ok,” you mumbled, beginning to lose yourself all over again.

He reached down grabbing the base of his cock, and slowly pushed the head of it in. You bit the inside of your cheek. It stung. The stretch was unlike anything you had experienced or felt.

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” he spoke, reading your expression and feeling the tenseness of your body.

You panted, ”Keep going.”

You wanted this.

Listening, he pushed in further. A sharp hiss left your lips. You clawed at his back, red ribbons added to the jagged pale scars. Rosinante almost stopped, fearfully he was hurting you too much.

“Don’t stop,” you begged. The sting had begun to subside as pleasure whisked you away.

Rosinante again listened to you. He may lead this dance but he had a partner he must be attentive too. You whimpered, shutting your eyes and adjusting to his size. Your heel dug into the meat of his calf, pleading him to keep going. With one final push, Rosinante was completely in filling you to the brim. He panted heavily over top of you. He watched as your face contorted from minor pain to absolute pleasure. Opening your eyes, you were met with pure unfiltered love, a culmination of months upon months of locked feelings, of denial and heartache.

It was finally all unburden, and unchained.

Breathless, you both stared at each other unmoving. Neither of you could. You both desperately wanted to stay here, to preserve such a memory and feelings. He filled you, your senses utterly overwhelmed by the sensation of him. And your body welcomed him in return.

It was as if you were made for each other.

Rosinante hid his face in your shoulder, exhaling shakily. Shit, I feel like I could come right now.

“I’m going to move now,” he grunted into your neck.

“Please.”

Taking a deep breath, he slowly moved his hips. His thick cock dragged through your walls before thrusting back in.

You whimpered.

“I got you,” he whispered. “If anything hurts, tell me.”

“Just - just please don’t stop.”

He let out a breathy chuckle. His hips increased in speed, spurring stars to burst in the corners of your eyes. Your mouth hung open as a silent moan spilled out. His cock stretched and filled you leaving nothing but pleasure in its wake. You wrapped your other legs around his hip, clinging to him. You were immediately becoming drunk and desperate on such pleasures. And Rosinante wanted to give you everything, to have you consumed by pleasure. He curled over you, pressing his forehead against yours. Lifting your hips, he hit a new angle, deeper and far more intimate.

“F-Fuck, Rosi,” you moaned. You clawed harshly at his back. An apology sat on your tongue, but every thrust left you mewling. You could only babble his name or curses.

Rosinante glanced down, seeing your stomach bulge at the size of his cock. “S-Shit, sweetheart,” he moaned. “You’re taking me so well. Look.”

You peered down. The debauchery sight left you speechless. His hips slapped deliciously against yours. Your stomach bulged every time his cock disappeared back in. And when he pulled out, you saw how his cock was slick and coated with your mixed juices. Not to mention at this new angle, the tuft of his snail trail rubbed wondrously against your clit only furthering your pleasures.

Fuck.

Whimpering, your head fell back into the bed. You bucked your hips, matching his thrusts. Rosinante whimpered, almost unnoticeable. “Fuck, just like that.”

He grabbed your hands, prying them off his back and pinning them to the bed. His fingers interlocked with yours, and squeezed your hands. He captured your lips, kissing you sweetly and pouring all of his love into it. His mouth, his hands, were passionate, and yet his hips were so sinful. The trio constantly stole your breath, leaving you in such a messy state.

Breaking the kiss, he smiled down at you. Still boyish, despite the years on him. Hearts danced in his eyes, and you knew you were the same. Every movement, every thrust, every shared breath, every touch - no matter how minuscule - was written with love.

And he was beginning to love watching you squirm on his cock.

He bent his head, taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Your eyes rolled back. The stretch of his cock, the grinding on your clit, the swirl of his tongue on your breast, each sensation brought you closer and closer to the edge. Each delicious friction melted your mind, and your body could only react. Your own well-timed thrusts started to waver as desperation sunk into your bones.

You whined faintly, “Rosi, so close.”

He popped off your breast. “I know, sweetheart, come on. Come around my cock.”

You shivered, lolling your head to the side.

“Be my good girl,” he purred into your ear, rolling his hips. “Come on, sweet girl, come on my cock.”

Your walls fluttered around him, warning him. He gritted his teeth, holding back his own pleasure. He needed to feel you come first. He snapped his hips with new fever, hitting the perfect spot. You gasped loudly. Blinding pleasure covered your senses. Rosinante saw your beautiful reaction and continued to hit the same spot over and over. His pace was unwavering, he needed to see and feel you come.

“Make a mess on me,” he moaned.

You tightened your grip on his hands, digging your nails into him. You squirmed and writhed on his cock. You whimpered as your orgasm approached quickly. Rosinante groaned in your ear, whispering such sinful things. You bucked your hips up just as he snapped his hips, and it all came crashing down.

Shutting your eyes tight, you walls clamped down as you cried out his name. He kissed you, swallowing up your moans and cries. He then kissed your cheek where a tear glided down, to your forehead, and finally nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. “I got you, sweetheart.”

His hips continued to pump into you, letting you ride out your orgasm. It was a beautiful sight. Your body convulsed as pleasure consumed you and as each additional pump stole your breath. Your eyes fluttered open to see your god still hovering above you, giving you everything.

But, it was his turn now.

“Fill me,” you muttered weakly drunk on pleasure.

“W-What?” Rosinante’s eyes widened and his hips stuttered at your words.

Freeing your hands, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. You dragged him down pecking his lips. “I want to feel you, Rosi,” you whispered.

His cock twitched inside of you.

“Please,” you begged softly. You arched your back, trying to take him deeper. Your hands glided down his back, pressing into his chest. Your hands roamed touching his scars, the ones you had memorized only moments ago. Your thumb grazed over his nipple, making him hiss. You nibbled on his ear, “Fill me, Rosi.”

His jaw clenched. He kissed you heatedly, pushing his tongue inside to re-explore your mouth. His large hands grabbed your hips, most likely bruising them in the process. But, you didn’t mind. He guided your hips, matching his new pace with more vigor and unrestraint. You moaned, drawing your nails down his chest.

A mere taste of this side of him was addicting. He could be loving, but he could be a monster. A monster you wished to learn in full some day.

Abandoning all his resolve, he pumped wildly into you. He couldn’t help it. Your words let a fire inside of him, and he had been holding back for so long. He muttered out an apology, afraid he might be hurting you. Yet, you took it all. You smiled up at him as he used you.

“Please, Rosi, I want to feel you,” you moaned.

He shuddered. Fuck, how could someone so sweet be so sinful? With a few more deep thrusts, he came, moaning out your name. He slowed down his pace until he buried himself deep within you, coating your walls.

Just like you asked.

Taking a second, you both stared at each other sweaty and out of breath. Rosinante carefully removed himself, and you squirmed at the abrupt emptiness. He rolled off of you, flopping onto the bed. But, he snatched you up, bringing you with him. You yelped, surprised by it. He settled you onto his chest, and your shock vanished. Sigh deeply, you nuzzled into his chest savoring this moment. A lazy smile tugged at the corners of your lips, listening to how his heartbeat slowly evened out. His fingers soon skimmed up and down along your spine.

It was peaceful, it was heavenly.

You each shared one thought: mine. Each of you unbeknownst to the other swore the same vow, to always make sure the other smiled and is to be loved for eternity. Perhaps, later down the road, such vows will be spoken aloud. But for now, you kept these secret promises to both of your chests.

Unfortunately, serenity was short lived for you. A thought, a more drastic one, occurred to you. Lifting your head, you nervously said, “Rosi? I - I think there’s still one thing we should at least talk about.”

He hummed, peering down at you.

“… like how are we going to tell the others? Especially Law?”

Rosinante flinched. He sighed heavily. His arms wrapped around you, firmly drawing your head back down. “We can worry about that later, I just want to stay right here a bit longer.”

You smiled, cheeks warm. You buried your head back into his chest whispering, “Ok.”

Your eyes spotted a scar near your face, specifically the one by his heart. You began to trace over it, memorized by the feeling and knowing you alone could do this.

“I like them,” you admitted quietly.

His heart skipped. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “It means you survived and you’re here.”

With me.

He gave you a gentle squeeze. His lips brushed over your hair, kissing the top of your head. “And I promise I won’t go anywhere.”

Closing your eyes, you smiled and kissed his scar. “Good.”

*****

“Law, please!”

Law huffed as Evelyn tugged on the back of his shirt. She had called him after his shift, asking him to come over. He wanted to go home, and into his bed, but she kept insisting. He agreed, however, as time dragged on doing little to nothing at her home, he decided to leave.

And for some reason, she decided to join him.

She begged the whole time to turn the car around, to go somewhere else, but he kept on driving home. He didn’t care, she could catch a ride back to her own home. Once parked, Law hopped out of his car, marching up the driveway with her bizarrely pleading.

“Look, I’m tired and …,” he paused, spotting a familiar car. One he didn’t see at her home, but oddly was parked here. “Why is she here?”

Eve flinched.

Law peered over his shoulder, staring down at her. But, she avoided his piercing gaze. He glared at her obvious guilty expression. She knew something. “What do you know?”

She blurted out, “Nothing!”

He tsked, “Lair.”

Law shook off her grasp then opened the front door. Stepping in, Eve quickly darted around trying to push on his chest but to no avail. Law walked further into the home. He didn’t see anyone, and nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Where …,” his voice trailed off when he stepped into the kitchen. His eyes instantly spotted something on the floor: a shirt and bra.

Eve whipped her head around. Her eyes widened at the pair of clothing, both shocked and happy for you.

Law’s face, however, scrunched up in disgust at the thought of what his dad had been doing. He huffed, clicking his tongue, “Idiots better not have done anything in the kitchen.”

Scanning the floor, he luckily couldn’t find any pants which brought some relief. Sighing, he spun around, heading back towards the front door.

Eve blinked, “Wait, you’re leaving?”

“Do you want to stay and find them?” He asked, raising his eyebrow.

She blushed, “Um, no … not really.”

“Figured, now let’s go.” He glanced back at her. “You can buy me dinner.”

She gasped, “I will not.”

“I’m driving, so either you stay here and find them or you pay.”

She pouted and grumbled, following after him. However, Evelyn sent you a kind thought as she left.

I’m happy for you.

[adolfusraptor1985]

My Opinion on Physical Shifters

Honestly, I don't get why this subject rubs people the wrong way. Because I want people who follow, or even interact with my blog, to know where my general opinions stand, I feel the need to express how I feel on this matter in particular.

Long story short, I support physical shifters.

Listen. Physical shifters have the right to express their identity and experiences just as much as any other being. There are two major misconceptions/opinions that run rampant through the non/alterhuman and therian community. One being that all physical shifters are delusional, and the other being that all delusions should be "fixed". Both of these statements are (I feel) incredibly wrong and harmful to innocent beings.

First of all, I want to state that I do not believe all physical shifters to be suffering from delusions. Nonhumanity as a whole is such a nuanced and complex identity that we simply do not understand it well enough to put clinical labels on it. I've also seen physical shifters describe their experiences more similarly to that of how many physical nonhuman identities work. A "physical shift" could happen on a level not visible to other people. There could be a veil that covers a being's true form, making them appear human when they are not. People also experience reality differently than others. Just because something seems like a delusion to other's doesn't mean that it's not that person's reality.

Secondly, I don't believe that all delusions need to be fixed. In the vast majority of physical shifters I've seen, their delusions to not cause any major impairments on daily life. Sure, physical shifters will often express the hardships of their experiences, but hardships aren't the same as impairments. Plenty of physical shifts learn on their own how to properly manage and cope with their delusions while living a fulfilling life. These types of delusions are not something that needs to be "fixed".

As a bit of a closing, I want to throw in how I actually relate to physical shifters as a physical nonhuman. I believe fully in the idea that my human body is basically an illusion and that I'm the only one who can see my true physical form. Sometimes, this form feels very nonhuman and stands out to me. Other times, it's faded, and my nonhuman identity doesn't feel as physical. I consider myself a werefox, as I feel like my physical form (the one others can't see) shifts from more to less nonhuman. I'm fully aware that others may view this as a delusion, but I still believe it because it's how I experience my own reality. So, in a bit of a roundabout way, I'm honestly questioning if I could apply the term physical shifter to myself.

[victoriadallonfan]

You see Victoria being labeled as a potential Tyrant by Fragile One get brought up sometimes and there are plenty of discussions about her character traits itself could evolve that way… but less so for the actual plot/events go within Ward itself at the time as for what could have gone wrong/what Vicky could have done in the confines of Ward in particular if she went that way? It begs the question what future/events in was Fragile One seeing/thinking could happen?

As the numero uno Victoria understander I’m curious if you’ve thought on it/spotted those potential points of divergence in the text?

That's really what arc 13, 14, and 15 were all about.

Arc 12 primed us with Victoria having a panic attack when Jessica refuses to answer her calls when she needed her most, and Fragile One noting that she could lift Victoria up if she abandoned her morals to enforce her will. Even prior to this, arc 9 had the first thing Goddess offer Victoria was a small country to rule as its leader (and the alignment made Victoria see Goddess as a mentor figure), and arc 8 had Carol warn Victoria to not act as a tyrant and try to impress her will upon the people. Arc 13 has Victoria come face to face with the consequences of her actions in the form of the Exile world, where the villains on the level of Mama Mathers or Cradle are secretly (sort of?? The court and Judges seem to be aware of it??) sent off world to live in the wilderness with camping supplies until they are found legible for parole. It is a dark and heavy scene, with Victoria even putting on a dark mask to emulate Blind Justice that hides her expression.

Except 2 things challenge Victoria: Drillbit and Colt. Victoria does not believe Drillbit should be exiled and says that it feels wrong, but she is paralyzed by what to do, because she doesn't know how else to handle someone who is routinely a danger to others. Drillbit takes this out of her hands and goes through it of his own will, but it bothers her nonetheless.

Colt, however, is a child. She did some pretty shitty things even before she got powers (like trying to help villains kidnap Kenzie) and more after, but she was only 13 AND we know - as does Victoria soon after - that her mind has been damaged by her Shard (quite literally, her interlude describes her Shard as destroying parts of herself). Seeing Colt, and perhaps galvanized by her issues with Drillbit, Victoria says she wants to help Colt and prevent her from the Exile sentencing and tries various roundabout means of doing so (including getting Jessica onto defending Colt's mental state).

Furthermore, Victoria finds her new mask a hindrance. Many times, she remarks that she hates how it hides her expression and makes her feel disconnected from people. She ultimately abandons it even, when she appeals to the supervillains of Earth N in a very human way, and never wears it again.

The rest of the arc also has Victoria slowly have a mental breakdown as Teacher's machinations harms her relationship with Jessica permanently, makes her paranoid about what Kenzie thinks of her, makes her see the worst of heroes and villains, and feels as though all the hard work she's put in saving the city has been for nothing. By the end of arc 13, she is a bawling mess who is desperate for any way to feel like she has done something good, which leads to her helping give Sveta a humanoid body.

Arc 14 follows 13 pretty much directly, with Victoria both faking and not faking how upset she is with the public that they fell for Teacher's manipulations, but also that people like Gary Nieves are victim blaming and helping engage terrorists in gaining power. Much of the debate between her, her team, and Gary is representative of how Victoria wants to connect with the public, convince them with facts and explanations, but feels as though there is a deep divide between what they want and what is reality. She even darkly considers simply ignoring them and their complaints forever.

However her stay at Shin and being abused by their jail and government, at the threat of them killing millions of innocent people, has her realize that she doesn't believe she could just ignore them. That if worse came to worse, she'd sacrifice her own well-being and endure this abuse and her rapists machinations for the betterment of others.

Arc 15 is actually pretty simple in how it shoves Victoria's in a face to face conflict with a real tyrant: he is someone who has taken over a planet, has enforced his will upon others, and is convinced that only he has the right answers. She is around to hear other characters discuss how lifeless and without any human care his own buildings are. He treats people as disposable tools and weapons, forcing Victoria to commit grisly killings and see the deaths of hundreds of good people and even more that were mind-controlled. Her own teammates are broken mentally, crippled, and a potential love interest killed by the epitome of Tyranny.

I think this is pretty much where Victoria abandons all potential of putting herself "in charge" so to speak, and the Tyrant possibility is put to bed forever. There is no more allure, consciously or subconsciously. All she associates with the idea is pain, death, and grief.

I think if one was to consider and genuinely want to write Tyrant Victoria, one needs to have her be taken away from seeing Drillbit, from interacting with Colt, feeling frustrated with how much her darker changes get in her own way, and from being in Shin and realizing how much she values people having free-will over her own desires.

If none of this happens, I could see a Victoria who - when fighting Teacher - would think that if she was in his position, SHE would be doing better. That she could fix the system by herself, get rid of all the bad people, and do the Right Thing.

She could become Goddess, in that scenario.

[bnhaobservation]

My two cents about chap 426

Hum... maybe I should call this my SIX cents about chap 426 because I'm gonna look at that chapter from three different perspectives.

The first is the Doylist one, in which I'll try to discuss what I think Horikoshi meant with what he represented in the chapter. I'm not Japanese and I might be wrong so take everything with a grain of salt.

The second is the Watsonian one, in which I'll focus on the story itself.

The third... is watching the chapter not keeping into consideration the chapter as a story filled with Japanese culture aimed at Japanese readers but as if it were a story that follows my culture and is aimed at me. This third analysis is here because there's actually a huge cultural clash between how many scenes would look to a Japanese audience and how they look to a person of my culture.

It's food for thoughts about how different cultures can see the same things differently and, while I'm a western, this doesn't mean I expect allt he western to feel the same as there are plenty of countries in the west and while they've similar views... they still can be different among them so it's fine if other westerns would read the chapter in an even different way.

Also this is not meant to be a compaint at Horikoshi or a critic to Japanese culture, just an acknowledgement different cultures see things differently.

Of course you can choose to skip to read one of those three parts if it doesn't interest you.

It's up to you.

Said so let's start.

Doylist commentary: So I’ve already discussed in a previous post how normally, the general attitude of a family would be to dump Touya to his own devices… so, as to prove the Todoroki instead are there to see Touya because they care about him, we’ve the opening discussion in which it’s clearly said not only they are all there but also that they aren’t there merely for a sense of duty. It’s Horikoshi’s roundabout way to say the family CARES.

By the way Fuyumi, Rei and Natsuo got a haircut. While it's obviously due to the hair burning cutting off hair in ancient Asia (Japan, china, Korea & possibly some other Asian cultures) used to symbolize being banished or rejected from their home (which fits with how the family is kind of a social pariah) but currently, cutting long hair into a short cut means to forget the past, leaving the old and starting anew (which might fit with how the family is starting a new life).

So I think Horikoshi also kept this into consideration when he had them cut hair.

We aren’t told where they are but it’s probably either a Villain hospital (they got mentioned in the Overhaul arc)...

...or just a prison as the guy in the room is dressed in a way that’s similar to the guards that were in Tartarus.

Touya is in a medical contraption which looks like a coffin as the guard explain he’s slowly dying.

He looks terrible, Horikoshi even got rid of his hair, which Touya had instead kept through the whole battle. He looks so bad (there are even nails that, I guess, hold still his head and what seems to be mechanical contraptions  around his jaw and neck, never mentioning the restrains that hold his body still… though we can’t see anymore the cables that were visible in the previous chapter… guess Horikoshi retconned his previous design…) some readers have compared him to a Cenobite. For who has no idea what a Cenobite is, they’re characters from the Horror movie “Hellraiser”, extra-dimensional beings who are mutilated and brainwashed into torturing humans for all eternity. Likely the visual look is to sweeten the pill that Touya is meant to die. In such a state it will seem cruel to keep him alive.

The announcement Touya is about to die is likely meant for the readers, not for the family, as they probably already know, hence not only there’s no reaction from them but this is also meant to be Horikoshi’s attempt to clue the readers in the fact we’ve to let Touya die.

His family has no hope he’ll survive and it’s doing nothing in this sense which is also a way to tell us we’re meant to deal with it... and Horikoshi likely chose this as this is the most ergonomic solution for Touya's ending.

Japan has death penalty, and fighting so that Touya would survive, only to sentence him to death for his crimes afterward, would be counterproductive for the story as it would only stretch it and make it sadder.

I’m pretty sure Horikoshi thinks letting Touya die on his own is a good compromise.

The following talk between Touya and Enji is a mean to conclude both Enji and Touya’s arcs.

The remark that Enji always meant to retire is here to tell us it’s not just because he can’t fight anymore, so he’s forced to. You might remember Enji himself said ‘Endeavor’ died back when he woke up in the hospital at the end of the first war.

The fact Horikoshi also had Enji’s body being basically destroyed (along with Fuyumi and Rei getting scarred) is part to show the consequences of their mistakes, part to symbolically have the family also share what Touya went through (when he burned himself over and over).

We’ve a lot of close up on eyes, to go back with the theme of looking, of how Touya only wanted for his father to look at him and how he’s been looking at him the entire time.

There’s another visual good reason why Enji is on a wheelchair.

When Enji says he’ll come to talk with Touya, Horikoshi represents Touya as standing, dressed as Dabi and with the scars Dabi had prior to his reveal but with Touya’s hairstyle. Visually it’s to tell us both identities have merged. Touya isn’t dead… but he’s no more just Touya, Dabi is part of who he is. His arm is missing but HE IS STANDING, he’s not trapped in that contraption. Enji is also represented without bandages or burns… but he’s still seated on a wheelchair. This forces him to look up at his son, while Touya looks down at him. Even though now Enji isn’t saying sorry, his words and the visual imply this is also an apology to Touya, even if Enji already said to him he was sorry after the end of the fight.

This is BIG in Japan so in this way Horikoshi makes the scene more emotional.

Now… previously Touya didn’t want to talk, he wanted to be seen by Enji. His catchphrase was ‘look’ not ‘hear’ (as this chap itself remind us).

He was desperate to show his father what he can do. In chap 390, moments before Shouto saved the day, Horikoshi introduced the idea he wanted to talk with his family.

It wasn’t a bad idea, first of all because now he’s not in the state to show much, so either Horikoshi were to kill him short after he almost blew up Japan, or they wouldn’t have much to watch now. Introducing the idea he wanted to talk as a way to ‘translate’ his ‘I want to be seen’ gives them something to do with the additional time they’ve with him and could be considered foreshadowed by the times Touya tried to talk with his family and they didn’t really listen to him. So the idea that seeing him could also be done by talking with him works.

It’s also an extra attempt to make clear to the readers Touya’s soul will be soothed/saved even if he’s going to die (I’ve discussed how this might be important for Japanese readers while it often falls flat to western readers in another post).

Horikoshi also kind of give closure to the Touya/Shouto narrative. By giving them the same favorite food he draws a connection between the two siblings.

The reminding of their fight isn’t just here to remind us of how the battle. What Touya said before that bit was they shared the same blood but were really different. Now instead he’s shown Shouto has something in common with him, something good and nice like a shared taste for a certain food. This denies Touya’s words that they run in parallel but forever apart and with Touya apologizing to Shouto, in a single blow Horikoshi ends the feud between the two siblings as well as giving Touya the chance to do what he wanted to do when he woke up in the orphanage, apologizing.

It can also be that this little exchange was something Horikoshi long planned, as for a long time he had kept Touya’s tastes hidden in his profile so that he could reveal it here.

I know there had been wondering if Touya’s tears are real (hence either his tear ducts regenerated or he lied previously) or bloody or something else. I think the whole point of it according to Horikoshi is that Touya, who used to cry a lot as a kid (and whose tears eventually almost killed him as the fire at Sekoto Peak started from them)...

...then became unable to cry.

Touya was (almost) killed by his own pain and desperation and once he was forced to not show it... well, this also lead him to become a Villain.

The message was not that he wasn’t suffering anymore, but that he couldn’t express it anymore (which is not a good thing)… with Horikoshi going for alternative ways to show him being in pain (his losing blood the hair die dripping  from his eyes and so on) that you would notice only if you were paying attention, in short ‘looking at him’.

Now Touya is being looked at and can express his pain as well, though this time is a bittersweet one.

So I don’t think the idea is we should ask ourselves how he can cry, and if it was a lie he couldn’t, but just enjoy the message.

It’s bloody tears? Is he magically able to shed tears again? Or it’s just a symbolic scene? Repeat the MST3K Mantra and just enjoy the fact he’s finally capable to express his pain and WHY because it’s hugely unlikely we’ll get an answer on the why (though maybe the anime might show if they’re bloody tears or not).

Horikoshi gives less space to the closure of the Rei/Touya and Fuyumi/Touya narrative, just having them tell him they want to talk with him.

I think Horikoshi considered the Rei/Touya narrative closed when he had Rei apologize to Touya. Yes, Touya said he wanted to also apologize to his mom, but I think the idea is that Touya’s apology to Shouto is meant to work as a reminder Touya wanted to apologize so Horikoshi doesn’t feel the need to show us that scene.

As for the Touya/Fuyumi narrative… Horikoshi hardly paid it any attention. The only interaction we see between the two of them prior to disaster striking has a 3 years old Fuyumi telling him she doesn’t want him to get hurt, which lead Touya to claim she doesn’t understand. When Fuyumi shows up on the battle ground she fundamentally say something similar by claiming she can’t bear to lose anyone else.

However Horikoshi might have meant for the closure not be her words but her actions. Fuyumi accepts to get burned in order to try to save her family parallels how Touya got himself burned to try to get his father to see him, they both burned because they couldn't bear the pain of not doing anything.

Long story short the reason why Horikoshi hardly give space to Rei and Fuyumi might be that he thinks he had closed their narratives with Touya already.

If, Enji, Rei, Fuyumi and Shouto were all the Todoroki family members I’ll say that the story of the Todoroki family has definitely ended with this chapter. Don’t take me wrong, there’s plenty of things I would wish to see them do and say with Touya, but Horikoshi might feel he had them say all that truly mattered and leave the rest to the readers’ imagination.

However… there’s still the matter of Natsuo.

This chapter mostly seems to close the Enji/Natsuo narrative, but not the Touya/Natsuo one.

In fact it’s noteworthy how through the discussion the only one who said nothing to Touya and tried not to look at him is Natsuo...

and the only moment Natsuo is shown looking is the moment Touya close his eyes.

There’s basically zero interaction between the two of them.

Now… I don’t blame Natsuo for failing to help his brother when he was solely a child of 8… but the story did. The interaction we were shown had Natsuo dismiss an already crying Touya, causing him further grief. In two chapters (302 & 388) Horikoshi has Natsuo thinks if he has talked to Touya or heard him out it would have made a difference.

Now though, Horikoshi leaves him silent.

There’s more.

I know there’s plenty of people who is cheering on the idea Natsuo won’t meet Enji anymore, which seems also how Horikoshi closes the Enji/Natsuo narrative … but this however indirectly means Natsuo won’t meet Touya anymore. Touya can speak with people only few minutes per day and Enji will be there all the days. This means there’s no time for Natsuo to meet his brother outside of the time his father will also be there.

Either the closure to the Touya/Natsuo narrative is that the two will never meet again (so they won’t have a chance to talk again and reconcile) or we’ll get another interaction between Touya and Natsuo.

Since Horikoshi raised a point previously that implied the importance of Touya and Natsuo talking, to me it feels a bit weird he would decide to go this way.

Let me be clear again, this is not about denying Natsuo the possibility to decide he’s furious with his brother and doesn’t want to see him anymore. This is about Horikoshi tossing in previously the idea it would have been important for Natsuo to talk with Touya and him regretting not doing and… then having him not do it again. While it’s a legitimate choice for Natsuo to make, in terms of story writing is kind of an odd choice… especially because Natsuo’s words seem to imply he’s trying to leave the past behind (even the visual places him ahead, in front of his family which is behind him)…

...which again, fair choice, but there was a whole narrative in the story about how the past doesn’t die so I’m not sure why Horikoshi would want instead let Natsuo go this way.

So I think it’s possible we’ll get another Touya/Natsuo interaction… which might include a Todoroki family/Natsuo interaction as well. Maybe Natsuo will bring his girlfriend to meet Touya. It would make a good chance for her to be introduced to us readers as well before the end as so far we only caught a glimpse of her.

On another note Horikoshi apparently has this chapter ends the narrative of Enji’s atonement.

No, it doesn’t mean Enji has finished atoning, just that he has find his way to atone.

Enji is taking responsibility for how his actions caused what Touya did (taking responsibility was something he refused to do before) and now he’ll spend his life protecting his family. It’s a compromise of the narrative Heroes hurt their family to save others. Enji is trying to do both so this narrative is also in a way closed by having a Hero who tries to do both.

Natsuo says responsibility has been taken and punishment dished out…

‘........ Shōjiki sekinin wa hatashita to omou batsu mo uketa to omou… mō ī nja ne ̄ no?’

「........正直責任は果たしたと思う　罰も受けたと思う…もういいんじゃねーの？」

“...Honestly, I think responsibilities have been taken and punishment has been received... isn't it enough now?”

…Enji continues to say he’ll keep on taking responsibility and try to protect his family (and therefore their future). This was what he had assumed was the duty of the Number 1 when he had talked with All Might so that discussion comes to a full circle as well. He faced Touya (aka accepted to dance with him in hell) and will keep on protecting the future of the people and his children by trying to protect them by the scandal/sparks/fiery fallout.

What’s the scandal/sparks/fiery fallout?

Many wanted Enji to be legally punished for the abuse he forced his family to undergo… but that’s not something Japanese society really cares, that’s viewed more like a personal family matter between all the Todorokis… and none of the Todorokis is asking for legal compensation that’s why Horikoshi won’t have Enji be put under trial.

What society blames THE WHOLE TODOROKI FAMILY for (yes, even Shouto even though he hardly had a part in this) is being the family that gave birth to Dabi who was among the ones who went at war with the current society (again, I’ve talked about it in a past post). It’s legally not a crime to have a child who became a criminal… but Japanese society will give you hell for it, hence Enji wants to protect his children from this and take the whole blame on himself.

Horikoshi likely means for THIS to be punishment for Enji’s mistakes (along with the death of ‘Endeavor’ and the damage his body suffered). As Natsuo said THIS WILL BE HELL (at least in theory) so it’s not like Enji is supposedly getting off lightly.

However a foreign reader might miss it because we don’t really get to see the ‘hell’ part. Shouto is in class A who’ll protect him (normally they won’t, Shouto would be ostracized at best, bullied and forced to leave school at worst), Natsuo’s girlfriend is still willing to marry him (normally she would dump him), Fuyumi had to leave her job but she was immediately helped find another one (normally her chances to be hired by people who were to know who she is would be 0) while all of Enji’s sidekicks and Kurumada are there to support him (normally they wouldn’t want to support him) and Hawks is there to support him too (and the story forgot about how Hawks too was involved in a scandal as the fact Hawks is the son of a criminal is a big deal too, even if Hawks’ situation is better than the Todoroki’s). The hell part is a given for Japanese readers so Horikoshi doesn’t feel the need to show it but he shows only that it won’t be only misery.

There’s also something else here. By remarking how things will be fine for the Todorokis because they’ve people supporting them, Horikoshi clearly means to underline the importance of having people supporting others. In the story those who had support always managed to handle things in the end no matter how hard they were, so it’s likely this what Horikoshi is stressing.

Two words about Nagant and La Brava and Gentle.

As I’ve said in a past post, contributing to the fight against AFO was going to be the way for Villains to get forgiven for their crimes. It’s a recurring trope in manga and it works in real life too so I’m not surprised Horikoshi presents them as they’re all pardoned.

The only downside I see in this is that by representing Nagant as okay to stay in prison he forgets how he represented Tartarus as a place where violation of the human rights was an okay thing. Yeah, his idea is probably she was moved and placed in a better prison but still, the narrative has kind of washed away how Tartarus was terrible in more than one situation (prisoners like Stains were first shown to be kept tied all the time but when there’s the escape they’re all free and La Brava said being put in jail was beneficial for Gentle).

Horikoshi clearly let everyone cover up how the Commission jailed Nagant for the wrong crime and it’s not presented as something bad. Revealing it is avoided because it would create chaos and distrust again so the story now only place Hawks, a person who means well, in charge of the commission and this is all the insurance the Japanese audience need to know things from now on will go on well.

It’s possible the idea is also Hawks’ narrative has ended. He lost his Quirk which in a way saved him as it was due to it the Commission took him away from his mother but also it was due to it he became the Commission’s lapdog and now he sits at the top of the commission. He’s basically free and can use the Commission’s power to make a better world. As I said it seems Horikoshi cut short the whole scandal part which regarded Hawks to close his narrative in a positive light.

In a way it almost seems there’s a clash in how the Todoroki family narrative involves the scandal being still alive while the Hawks narrative just let it go. In real life society would probably still give Hawks hell because in Japan you’re just not supposed to have a relative who’s a criminal.

In the story though, while the Todoroki family was held accountable for what happened with Touya (Touya was stated to be the Todoroki’s family sin and hence Shouto had to deal with it), Hawks wasn’t hold accountable for what happened with his parents so Horikoshi gave him a free pass thinking his readers wouldn’t mind (just to make clear I DON’T HOLD HAWKS ACCOUNTABLE FOR THE FACT HIS FATHER WAS A CRIMINAL… but Japanese society often thinks differently).

Hawks is even missing the cut Himiko gave him on his cheek as it apparently left no scarring (or Horikoshi forgot it).

So this might be the last we see of him… unless Horikoshi is going to address him a little more due to the Hawks/Jin/Himiko narrative. Will he be involved in sparing a Villain’s life instead than urging Heroes to kill them or killing them himself? We’ll see. I’m not taking him wanting to get Nagant out of jail as an answer to this as he was supportive of Nagant previously as well. Long story short it’s possible we’ll see more of Hawks but it’s also possible that’s all we need to see.

Lastly, the scene with Shūichi at Central Hospital is clearly meant to imply the next chapter will address his narrative.

We know Midoriya was meant to bring to him Tomura’s last words. Shōji might drop a visit as well to talk about Heteromorphs and ways to cope about discrimination or he might want to talk about the future of Heteromorphs. On another note, Horikoshi might remember in his world building he has decided who carries more than one Quirk, unless it’s All for One, will have a shorter lifespan (remember Hikage?) so he might be planning to tell us Shūichi, who now has three, will soon die of old age. Killing him too like it was done for Tomura, like it will be done for Touya and, possibly, like it was done for Himiko (unless they saved her) is ergonomic as it spares Horikoshi from telling us  Shūichi  will be jailed and sentenced to death to give us a tamer ‘he accepted 2 Quirks from AFO and now he faces the unavoidable consequences’. Not that it makes me happy but we’ll see.

So here ends how I think Horikoshi wanted us to read this chapter. I’m not Japanese, I might be wrong as I might have missed some cultural clues but I like to hope I was, at least, close enough. I think for Japanese readers it will be an emotional and fulfilling chapters and they’re probably going to enjoy it a lot.

Watsonian commentary:

So as I expected the Todoroki family is gone to see Touya. This seems the first time they see him, but since he seems to be in some sort of Villain hospital it’s possible it took time for them before they were being allowed to see him. That or for a while Touya was in coma or something like that because yes, some of the Todorokis might not have been up to see him immediately after the fight but some others weren’t so bad.

Of course there’s the possibility they preferred to wait for everyone before going there but I prefer to think they either had to wait to be legally allowed or that it was Touya who previously couldn’t see anyone.

Touya is in some sort of contraption… but the most it’s doing is keeping him alive a little longer as we’re told he’s slowly dying. This tube in which he’s put in is more like a coffin than the one in which Tomura was put in and it can be conveniently placed horizontal and vertical. To allow Touya to talk with the others they put him in an horizontal position. It’s worth to mention the room Touya is in seems dark and, anyway, the others can’t be in the same room as him, they see him through a glass.

The family is composed and calm despite being told Touya is about to die, Touya, seeing them there is sarcastic, pointing out he’s not a tourist attraction. He’s keeping distance from them, even though they all came to see him during the war and now, his words point out how he doesn’t seem to believe they came there for him, that if they were to be there it would be because they thought to find some ‘amusement’ in seeing a tourist attraction.

It’s a jab meant to hurt, as they never looked at him before and the little they did previously came too late… but it’s also possibly a hidden plea to point him wrong. Touya wants to be seen.

Enji fundamentally tells him he succeeded in killing ‘Endeavor’ and in having flames that are way hotter than his own.

Touya insists it’s too late, that Enji is playing nice now when it’s all over and that he’s being a coward.

While Enji agrees with him, now he keeps on staring at him and takes responsibility again. Midoriya has said Touya wasn’t Endeavor so Enji couldn’t be blamed for his actions but Enji takes blame for them anyway.

He says something interesting here.

‘Dare ga nanto iou to........ Omae no honō (netsu) wa ore no HELLFLAME da’

「誰が何と言おうと........　おまえの炎（ねつ）は俺の『ヘルフレイム』だ」

“Whatever people try to say… Your flames (read: heat/rage/mania/madness/passion) are my Hellflame.”

This seems a nice way to also call back how Touya said that the fire inside him was lighted by Enji and wouldn’t go away… as well as a nice tie with how Touya thought he was in hell and invited Enji to join him. Enji’s rage/madness was passed down to Touya, burned inside him and became Touya’s rage/madness. Enji is no more telling him to just forget and move over, he’s accepting Touya couldn’t.

We see Touya’s eyes squeezing a little, even if he’ll hardly talk through this chat and we hardly can see clearly his emotions his eyes tell a story of their own.

Enji acknowledges it’s far too late but promises he’ll spend the rest of the time Touya has talking with him. In short this time he’ll be there for him, he’ll pay him attention. Touya says nothing but his heart speeding up shows he’s affected. Enji encourages the rest of the family to do the same and encourage Touya to tell him whatever he wants, even if he hates him, which is a repeat of what he told him once they managed to stop him. Fuyumi and Rei also say they want to talk with him but Touya closes his eyes.

For once he won’t be looking at his family, though more likely the reason isn’t he doesn’t want to see them but that he’s just keeping his emotions bottled inside.

Natsuo instead says nothing and this is the first time he looks at his brother… though he has an uncertain expression. It seems as if Natsuo hasn’t quite decided what to do with his brother. His last words to Touya were a scolding… but also moved by how Natsuo felt guilty because in the past he didn’t listen Touya.

In the past Natsuo used anger to hide his pain so back then Natsuo probably used it to hide his sense of guilt. In a way he’s similar to Touya and Enji. Now though… he seems uncertain, he probably hadn’t come to term yet with what had happened.

The family is told to leave and return tomorrow. I guess they’ll be allowed free access. Shouto though still wants to ask Touya about his favorite food but, at first, he gets no reply either, Touya’s eyes still close, while Natsuo turns away his face. It’s when the family is about to leave and Touya is lying down in that dark room he finally replies, telling Shouto his favorite food is Soba, which Shouto confirms also being his favorite food.

It’s meaningful Shouto is the only one who got his brother to reply to him in a somewhat normal tone… even though Touya needed to do it once he was kind of hidden by everyone’s sight… or that he did it  when he thought everyone was leaving as if to say he didn’t really want that.

That tiny word is Touya accepting to talk with them peacefully, but, more importantly, with Shouto. His family has tried to reach out for him, and, of all of them, he reacted to Shouto’s question. It’s probably also Touya’s way to make peace with them. He had hated Shouto, he had said he wanted him dead but now… he’s starting from him to talk with his family. And the fact they have in common something, their own favorite food, makes everything even more tragic because those two siblings could have gotten along, they had things in common, if they had been given the chance they could have gotten along and loved each other just fine but… now it’s late and they’ve only a short time left.

Touya cries when he hears Shouto, like him, loves Soba, he’s finally able to see his brother not as someone way too different from him for him to connect to Shouto but as someone likes him and this allows him to apologize to Shouto, even if the visual seems to imply Shouto didn’t hear him as it was done when Shouto was already out of the building… or at least that’s the impression I get from the images.

As said before, apologizing is a BIG DEAL in Japan so this matters a lot more than it would in the west.

Once they’re outside what’s probably some sort of Villain hospital, Natsuo says he’s cutting bridges with Enji and won’t see him anymore. By default, this means he won’t see Touya anymore either, as Touya can get visits only for few minutes at day and Enji promised he’ll go there all the days.

Likely it’s not just for all he said in past chapters when he admitted being angry with Enji and feeling bad when he sees him.

Touya is a criminal and his whole family, but especially Endeavor as he’s a public figure and a Hero, is held accountable for this. Touya has made a video for the purpose to make sure society, who would have already normally blamed his family for Touya’s actions, had even more incentives to blame Enji. As Natsuo himself said, what expects them after what Touya has done is hell. Society will hold them accountable as if they had agreed to what Touya did.

Cutting bridges with Enji (and Touya) is a common way for many criminals’ family members to try to escape the social hell that await them.

You might notice Natsuo said:

‘Kanojo to seki iretai-shiki wa agenai shōkai mo shinai.’

「彼女と籍入れたい式は挙げない紹介もしない」

“I want to enter in the family register with my girlfriend, but we won't have a ceremony or introduce each other (families).”

In Japan all the family households (basically defined as married couples and their unmarried children) have a family register, also known as koseki (戸籍). The words Natsuo uses imply he’s registering himself in a Koseki that already exists, not that he and his girlfriend are starting a new Koseki.

Now, from what I could understand, generally you start a new Koseki when you marry or when you become independent…  Natsuo isn’t married yet and, although he said he doesn’t want to see Enji again, he didn’t make clear if he wants to become economically independent. It would be difficult as people would be unwilling to hire him and he hadn’t finished university yet (Fuyumi had to leave her job and could find another only because someone supported her).

It’s still possible Natsuo wants to ask for his own Koseki but I think part of what Natsuo want to do is to register himself on his girlfriend’s Koseki so as to take her surname.

Changing Koseki and surname will help him distance himself from the Todoroki. Differently from his mother and sister Natsuo has no facial scars marking him. If he manages to sell himself for someone who’s not a Todoroki he might escape hell.

Natsuo then asks Fuyumi what she plans to do as she had to leave her job. I think he wants to know if she has a plan to escape hell too… but while Fuyumi confirms she has lost her job, she says she has found another thanks to a person who helped her and it’s clear Fuyumi doesn’t plan to cut bridges with her family or Touya. She said she wants to talk with him after all.

Natsuo claims he believes responsibilities have been taken and punishment has been received... asking if this isn't it enough. To Enji it’s not.

He states he’ll be making amends and apologize for his sins for the rest of his life.

‘Okashita tsumi no baishō to shazai o isshō o kakete tsudzukete iku. Mite inakute ī. Kodomo-tachi (read: omae-tachi) ni furikakaru hi no ko o dekiru kagiri ore ga uketomeru, ikinobita imi ga aru to sureba sore dake nanda.’

「犯した罪の賠償と謝罪を一生を��けて続けていく。見ていなくていい。子どもた（おまえたち）ちに降りかかる火の粉をできる限り俺が受け止める、生き延びた意味があるとすればそれだけなんだ。」

“I will continue to make amends and apologize for the sins I committed for the rest of my life. You don't have to watch/look after me. I will take upon me as much of the sparks/damage that will (try to) falls on the children (read: you) as I can, and that's the only meaning of my survival.”

As said before, apologizing is a big deal in Japan and what’s more Enji wants to keep on doing it and making amends and therefore taking responsibility when, previously he had always avoided doing so and pushed responsibility on others. Natsuo remarks again it will be hell but, although Enji agrees with him, he also says he accepted it because he accepted to dance in hell with Touya.

‘Ā DANCE no sasoi o uketande na.’

「ああダンスの誘いを受けたんでな。」

“Yeah, I was invited to the dance.”

He has changed a lot from where he started, to the point even Natsuo, who’s the one sibling who has the lowest opinion of him, acknowledges it.

‘… Hajimeteda yo otō-san no koto kakkoī tte omoeta no.’

「…初めてだよお父さんの事かっこいいって思えたの。」

"...It was the first time I thought my dad was cool."

This sentence from Natsuo means MUCH more than it might seems like as it’s the first time Natsuo refers to Enji as ‘otō-san’ as he previously only used ‘anta’ (“you” in a kind of rude/angry way) or ‘Endeavor’ to talk with him. Now he calls him ‘otō-san’ which you can translate as father/dad, but it’s much more respectful than the ‘oyaji’ Shouto uses.

Basically, even though Natsuo is cutting bridges with him, with this sentence he’s acknowledging Enji as his father for the first time. The first time Natsuo yelled at Enji, Shouto said he wanted to see which kind of father Enji could be. I’ll say the idea is that now he’s the sort of father they can appreciate.

Shouto assures everyone he’ll be fine too as he has the people in class A to support him so he can become the person he wants to be. The Todoroki children leave and we see that Endeavor’s sidekicks as well as Kurumada are there to wait for Enji and Rei. I take that means they’re back together. Enji receives also messages from Hawks, who’s worried for him.

Basically, even though the Todorokis are supposed to be in hell, each of them has people supporting them (Natsuo has his girlfriend, Fuyumi the mother of one of his students, Shouto has class A, Enji and Rei Endeavor’s sidekicks, Kurumada and Hawks) so things will be fine because they’ve people supporting them (in this story who didn’t have people supporting them broke down and ended up a Villain and prey of All for One).

We move to Hawks who’s likely the youngest president of the commission and would like to free Nagant but now, differently from when she escaped, Nagant is all for staying in jail so that she won’t be exploited again. Well, she worked for the Commission and by AFO but… well, the Commission exploited her because they caught her when she was really young… but AFO… he hired her and she said she agreed to work for him because she believed the resulting world would be better. So he used her but I wouldn’t say he exploited her unless the idea is he blackmailed her into agreeing… which it’s possible but wasn’t shown. I’ll be honest, I’m probably losing some sort of clue about Nagant’s narrative post her meeting Midoriya because her actions after meeting him never quite felt that smooth. It’s probably me but, due to this, I’ll leave this part of the story as it is and focus on Shūichi who’s not in a Villain hospital but in Central hospital even though he’s a Villain bedridden and in a poor shape. With three Quirks he might end up dying soon of old age but I don’t know if the story will refresh our mind with this detail.

Shūichi is likely about to meet Midoriya and, possibly, Shōji, maybe with Kōda. I don’t think the ones who followed Shūichi till Central Hospital then changed their mind will drop to say ‘hi’.  I do not look forward to this part. Midoriya had to tell him Tomura’s final words, which, I guess, will be sad and emotional.

As I wasn’t a fan of the Central Hospital arc I do hope it’ll be only Midoriya who’ll visit him because I do not look forward to a retake of that arc. I think that arc is another thing that cause a huge cultural clash but, while this chapter still managed to have good point the Central Hospital arc felt even more distant from me and I’ve no wish to resume it. Still, we’ll see.

A not-Japanese person (aka me) commentary:

I’ll refresh everyone’s mind again. This is a commentary done as if I had not the slightest idea of how Japanese culture works and were reading the story SOLELY through the lenses of my culture… and I’ve to say this is one of the chapters in which the cultural clash is more evident and reading it merely through the lenses of my culture brings me really far from Horikoshi’s intended message.

It’s not here to criticize Horikoshi, it’s just food for thoughts that shows how the same scene can be interpreted very differently according to which lenses you use to look at it. If this is not your cup of tea, just don’t read it.

Now… I’ve said how, in Horikoshi’s intention, the first discussion is meant to show that the family LOVES Touya and that they aren’t there for a sense of duty. To Japanese readers I think it works wonderfully. Ironically, if this were a story placed in my country it would have a different effect. Opposite to Japan in my country is a given they would go to see Touya. All that talking about not having to go there (when it would be normal to) seem to drive home the family thinks NO ONE cares about Touya. Yes, Shouto would then set things straight but you’ll get a really different impression than the one the author intended.

The scene with Touya being held in that tube gets even more horrifying as we often would let inmates who’re about to die go back home so that they can die in their home, with their family, especially if they clearly aren’t in the shape to escape. What’s more the family wouldn’t just leave, as Touya is about to die they would want to remain with him even if he just were to sleep.

The Todoroki family is very composed, very calm, they don’t need to show their pain or their love because in a Japanese mind setting just the fact they’re there and want to talk with him proves it… but since here it would be a given we would need it to be more grief stricken or the family comes out as cold.

We don’t have death sentence. The fact that the family isn’t scrambling to try and find a way to keep Touya alive in such a Quirk world (with Garaki indeed saving him from a similar situation and him surviving for 10 years) again feels as if they don’t care about his survival, as if they thinks it’s more convenient if he dies.

So what for a Japanese audience is meant to work as a way to let Touya go, here gives out a very different vibe… we would have needed Touya to die on the battlefield, before medical aid could be carried to him to accept this.

Touya’s initial mockery, his refusal to talk afterward and his last moments with Shouto instead work here too and are emotional enough.

I wouldn’t expect Enji to face legal punishment for what he did to his family not because we consider it a private family affair but because… he should have faced it ages ago. When little Touya started burning himself at the tender age of 3, the family would be put under scrutiny. They couldn’t let him under vigilance. When Shouto was burned, this would worsen. When Touya would be assumed dead there would be for sure legal consequences. If Enji hadn’t faced it back then, my conclusion would be the BNHA world doesn’t care about all this and won’t lift a finger to protect children (never mentioning the time to make a complaint would be expired). If the idea is that Enji covered things up back then, then the characterization would break down when he would admit things, making it bad writing so yeah, I would just expect the BNHA world to be built to not care to punish such abuse… but the story to criticize it by punishing Enji with his physical disabilities.

Continuing on this… yes, I would be in the camp of ‘just an apology isn’t enough’ because in my country saying ‘sorry’ isn’t that big of a deal as in Japan and wouldn’t even begin to cover it. Combined with how Enji isn’t fighting to save Touya’s life nor improve his condition but he’s saying he’s just willing to talk… it feels he’s doing too little.

Natsuo’s narrative would feel concluded even with Touya. Deciding not to see him nor his father again would feel okay, and since we wouldn’t really hold Touya’s siblings accountable as much as in Japan, Enji’s idea he’ll protect them from the scandal wouldn’t feel like the big deal it is in Japan.

The sidekicks’ narrative would feel... weird. Horikoshi showed them as supportive of Enji in previous chapters because he was a great Hero despite his family situation. There was no real criticism for how he handled his family but in such a setting it could have worked because they were focused on the war. Now that the war has ended the fact they all brush away Enji’s past without having a chance to be critical to it (even if only to say ‘you did terrible but now you’re trying to fix it so okay’) would reinforce the idea of a messed up theme in which for people is okay to abuse people. Yeah, I guess we might fill the blanks assuming they confronted him in a scene we didn’t see because they aren’t really important but it still would feel weird.

The same goes for Hawks, who doesn’t plan to reconcile with his abusive parents but never felt discomfort at how it was Enji’s neglect what caused Touya to do what he did, nor showed sympathy for Touya.

I won’t really dig much into why Japan and my country handle this matter differently, because the difference was established long ago, it’s just that we would have kept on expecting that Hawks’ lack of reaction didn’t mean he was okay but merely that the whole thing was being postponed so it would be confusing when, even now, it wouldn’t be addressed at all, while for the Japanese narrative is clear there’s nothing to address.

Now… remember when I said in Horikoshi’s intentions showing us that the Todorokis will be fine because they’ve support is to remark the importance of support and that he doesn’t show the struggle of the Todoroki being in hell because it’s a given for Japanese readers?

Well, since for my culture it wouldn’t be a given, all that would be seen is the Todorokis not having troubles at all… and their life being made even easier because they got so lucky they accidentally met up with people who would support them. The importance of support gets dimmed by the fact the hardship isn’t really shown much but is supposed to be taken as a given (to be fair we see a little of it, but it’s easy to miss it), and them having support as well just make things seem even easier for them.

Something else worth mentioning about Hawks is that for us the scandal wouldn’t be so much that he was the son of a criminal and hid it, but that he killed Twice… and the press probably even recorded that he said to kill the Twices again. The problem is… here the police is not really allowed to use lethal force (I’ll go for Heroes paralleling the police) unless it’s a life or death situation.

In Japan it’s exceedingly rare the police will use lethal force but… they can do it in the event that a person who is actually in the act of committing, or is suspected on sufficient grounds of having committed, a violent and dangerous crime which is subject to the death penalty or life imprisonment does so much as TRY TO ESCAPE. Bubaigawara was escaping yes, but he was a dangerous criminal and Hawks said he had no choices and so it makes it fine. So basically for Horikoshi this narrative was likely kind of closed with Hawks’ press conference and him apologizing for not managing to find a better way to handle things. It makes it to the news because it’s supposed to be rare… but not because it’s wrong.

Yes, generally the police is investigated if they kill someone but since the police in BNHA was aware of which danger Twice represented it’s no surprise they shrugged it off. And Hawks apologized which, as said before, is a big deal in Japan so to Japanese fans this narrative is, by now, long closed. The same instead wouldn’t work for people of my country.

Nagant’s narrative feels weird to say the least as not only she can’t decide to remain in jail when she’s told she’s allowed to get out but I would expect the situation to be investigated as she ended up in jail for a crime she didn’t commit instead than the one she did. Of course this would means to put the commission under investigation as well instead it seems like all is being hushed which I would totally take for corrupt government. Hawks being a person who means well wouldn’t be reassuring because he’s covering previous crimes.

So that is. This would be my reaction if I were to analyze BNHA from the lenses of my country’s culture. As you can see it would give off a very different vibe because since we’re different for us things would need to go differently to get the same message.

THIS IS NOT A COMPLAINT TOWARD THE STORY HORIKOSHI WROTE.

It’s just accepting if Horikoshi makes a story that’s strongly tied to a specific culture (his own Japanese one) people from a different culture who might not be aware of how things work in Japan, will perceive what he says differently. Which is fair, many of us will be handed off the manga without additional cultural notes that help us to understand it the way the author wanted us to understand it. Some stories aren’t meant to work in the same way through all around the world and, as a result, this might cause them to feel ‘bad writing’ in some countries just because the message they want to deliver ends up not being understandable by everyone.

I still think it’s worth to read BNHA even though I just can’t get the same warm feelings Japanese readers get from this ending. I like to think I understand what Horikoshi is trying to deliver (I might be wrong) but it feels more like cold understanding after rationalizing things than an immediate emotional response. It’s very interesting for my curious mind so again I don’t regret in the slightest reading it but… it’s not equally emotionally satisfying. But well, that’s me, if you managed to find it working perfectly well than that’s great!

[melanieph321]

Kenan Yildiz x Reader - Thick Part 3/8

+ 18

Part 1 Part 2

Kenan and Reader share the same high school friend group. As graduation is near, Reader sets out to pass her drivers license test but ultimately struggles to. Thankfully Readers friends agree to help her with driving lessons and take turns doing so. It is during one of Rader's lessons that it becomes clear that Kenan likes her. A chock to Reader, who has a crush on someone else in their friend group.

Enjoy!

"He called you what?"

"Fat. Or Not skinny, to be exact."

"Stronza." (Asshole).

You enjoyed driving with Rebecca. She wasn't as instructive or patient as Maria, and it was nearly impossible to communicate over the loud music playing in her car. But after your experience driving with Kenan, you could withstand a couple of false notes sung by her. 

"Do you want us to talk to him, maybe ask Gio to give him a slap upside the head?" She was also very sympathetic to the incident involving Kenan, naturally taking your side.

"Tempting." You chuckled. "But no, I'd rather let it go and ignore him for the rest of my life."

"That will be a hard thing to do."

"Trust me, I've managed to block out a couple of fat-shamers in my life, Kenan will be no different."

"Yes, but what about our road trip to Bari? I imagine it'll be difficult ignoring someone for ten hours straight while confined into a cramped car."

"Right." 

Just the thought of the road trip with your friends triggered an unpleasant feeling in your gut. It had more to do with the fact that you still didn't have a driver's license, and judging by the way things were going, you wouldn't possess one any time soon.

"How about we try the roundabout again? It should be more crowded at this hour."

"Yay."

Rebecca took you back to the roundabout that you and Kenan had tackled the week before. But unlike Kenan, she wasn't one to talk you through things, assuming that the actions needed were as obvious to you as they were to her. It resulted in you having some trouble finding the right gear for the approach into the right file, and unlike Kenan, Rebecca's hands weren't on the wheel, ready to spot you in case you'd need the assistance.

"Check your mirrors Y/N!" She shouted in panic.

The car swirled in the lane on your attempt to get it out of the roundabout. It swirled before coming to an abrupt stop. 

"My car!" Rebecca cried. 

Smoke rose from the hood of it. You had bumped it straight into the sidewalk. The car had to be towed and taken to the nearest mechanic shop right away.

"I promise to pay for all the damages." You assured.

"Of course you will. And I want compensation for the trauma that was inflicted on me. You're not a bad driver Y/N, you're a basket case."

"Ladies, ladies, please." Gio entered the small garage. He was wearing stained overalls, a plaquet with the name Joey on it. Joey, or Josef, was Gio's dad, owner of the shop. "There's nothing that yours truly can't fix. So please, no catfighting in my garage, as tempting as that would be to watch."

Rebecca rolled her eyes. "Just fix my car Gio, or else we won't have a ride to Bari this summer."

"Judging by the way Y/N is driving we might not even make it to Bari with her behind the wheel."

"Hey?" You hissed.

"Kidding, just kidding." 

Gio approached the vehicle, taking a good look at it. It was clear that he was better with his hands than his brain. And he didn't seem to mind following in his father's footsteps, taking over the shop and running it one day. "Yeah, this is gonna take some time fix it and it's gonna cost you." He nodded. "It's gonna cost you plenty."

"Well, what are you waiting for, get started on it."

"Sorry Beck's, but I'm closing the shop at six."

"Six, why so early?"

"Didn't you hear, Luca and his band have a gig in town. All of us are invited, no?"

"Right, I totally forgot about that. Are you going Y/N, I'd rather just go home."

"Erm....I think I'm gonna go." You blushed.

"Alright, then you can ride with me." Gio said. "I'm picking up Kenan once my shift is done. The guy is probably still asleep as we speak."

"Kenan's coming?" You asked.

"Yeah, why?" Gio turned to Rebecca who made a grimace similar to yours. 

"You know what, perhaps I should go." She said, "The more the merrier, no?"

"Right?"

"I'll call Maria and tell her to meet us there."

********************************************

You have seen many bands play live before. It always fascinated you how brave and care free the artists seemed on stage, going off on their instruments. Luca was no different, letting down his hair while rocking out on stage. It wasn't often that he let the world see what hid beneath the strings of his man-bun, — oh but when he did.

"Thank you everybody, I hope you've had a goodnight!"

"Go Luca!" 

The crowd, including yourself, shouted his name at the top of your lungs. You weren't the only girl who had eyes for the band's lead guitarist, however, you were one of the few people who knew him personally.

"Great set man. You were awesome." Gio said, as your friends gathered backstage at the end of the night. The five of you had danced the night away like maniacs, influenced by an unhealthy amount of cheap alcohol. 

"Thanks alot for coming guys, it means a lot."

"The night isn't over man, we're having drinks back at my place, aren't you coming." Said Gio.

"Sorry guys, gotta help the band pack up. But I'll see you guys at school on Monday. Y/N?" He said, stunning you with a smile.

"Y...yes?"

"I'll pick you up in the morning. You can drive my dad's Cadillac to school."

"It's a date." You grinned. It was really nice of Luca to want to stay and help his band. "He's so kind." You blurred out, during an intoxicated rant at Gio's house. Only you, Kenan, Gio and Maria made it back. Rebecca had her dad pick her up at the bar.

"So if you had to spend the night with someone in our friend group, it would be Luca." Gio nodded.

"Yes, but don't tell him I said that." You blushed. It was a messy game of truth or dare. The four of you were too drunk to perform any proper dares, which resulted in the majority of you choosing truth.

"Kenan, truth or dare?" You asked. It was your turn and you only asked him since it became obvious that you were ignoring him.

"Dare." He said.

"Okay, I dare you to make out with Maria for one minute."

Kenan grinned, but did not hesitate to scoot closer to Maria who sat next to him on the sofa. The two of them shared seductive glances before leaning in and engaging in the sloppiest make out session you've ever seen.

"My turn." Kenan wiped his mouth with a swipe of his tongue. "Gio, truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Which girl in our friend group would you rather spend a night with?"

"Maria. My turn. Kenan, same question, which girl in our friend group would you rather spend a night with?"

"You guys are so annoying." Maria sighed, although you couldn't help but to notice the soft shade of pink that had blossomed on her cheeks. It might have been the aftermath of her make out session with Kenan, however, you noticed how she and Gio would throw glances at each other when they thought that no one was looking.

"Y/N."

"Huh?" You turned your head, noticing how all eyes were on you now, how Gio and Maria were holding back their giggles. "What's so funny?" They refused to answer you, drunk fucks. However, that's when you felt a hand on your thigh, with Kenan leaning in to whisper in your ear. "They're made for each other, don't you think? Almost like true love."

"What do you know about true love?" You shrugged his hand away.

Kenan's expression faltered. "You're still angry with me."

"Hah!" You laughed, but did not intend to sound as cruel as you did. "Try humiliated."

"Y/N, what happened during our…"

"Save it Kenan, I'm over it."

"You don't seem over it."

You turned to him, surprised by the way his eyes glowed beneath the dimmed lights of Gio's living room. "If there's anything I can do or say to make you forgive me...."

"You can't and there isn't."

His shoulders withered. "I never meant to hurt your feelings. I just....I get so tired after training. Sometimes I just can't help but run my mouth because I am so exhausted."

If this was Kenan's attempt to make you feel sorry for him you weren't buying it. Although it did strike your heart earlier, when Gio had gone to pick Kenan up at his house, revealing that he was missing a lot of days at school due to his commitments to Juventus. It was clear that Kenan lived a life different from all of yours. But surely he will go on to do great things in the future.

"Y/N?"

"Huh?" You had tuned out of the conversation for a second. But apparently a second was enough for Gio and Maria to have snuck upstairs, leaving you and Kenan behind. He stared at you with big eyes, the alcohol on his breath strong but sweet. "Can I kiss you?"

"What?" You snorted, however, Kenan had already closed his eyes, leaning into you, his lips pressing against the corner of your mouth.

You flinched. And as your hand went to push his weight off of you, the kiss deepend, Kenan's tongue seeking entrance to your mouth. It was granted as you gasped for air, his hand snaking behind your neck, railing you back in to kiss him again. It was unexpected, how good it felt. How a drunk kiss could be laced with so much passion, persuading you to make a series of bad decisions.

"Let's go upstairs, I brought condoms." Kenan traced his lips at the edge of your jaw, nipping at the skin. 

"Okay." You whispered, however, your need for him became urgent, your legs wrapping around his hips, pulling him down to lay on top of you. Kenan's mouth moving down your neck tickled like feathers. His hands found their way underneath your shirt, stopping to cup the swell of your bra. But in a moment of indecision, like a child in the buffet line, his hand slipped down your tummy, to your thighs.

"What?" You giggled, seeing as he stopped to stare at you, eyes foggy from the alcohol.

"I don't want you to regret this."

"What is there to regret?"

"I'm serious Y/N, I want you to want this. I want you to want…me."

Your eyes widened. "Kenan." Your brain was clouded from the alcohol but not smashed enough for you not to recognize the change in his voice. Your hands went to this face. "I want this." You nodded. "I want you."

It was all the reassurance he seemed to need. Kenan leaned into kiss you and the tenderness of the kiss flared a swarm of butterflies to invade your stomach. He squeezed your thighs not minding the size of them. He was almost obsessed, eager to strip you of your skinny jeans. He did so promptly and you helped by raising your hips. However, you were not as comfortable during the next phase. The liquid courage in your veins ceased to flow once the realization hit that you were about to see Kenan naked for the first time and he you.

"You, okay?" He asked, noticing how your hands weren't running down his body anymore.

"Kenan I…?" 

A fear sprung his eyes, A fear that you may have come to the conclusion that this was a mistake.

"I'm not as confident about my body as people think." You said.

"Your body?" He frowned, and shamelessly stared at what lay beneath him. 

"Yes, my body." You sighed. "You said so yourself, I'm not skinny and guys like you like skinny girls without belly pouches and what not. "

"Guys' like me?" Kenan repeated, and if he was planning on playing dumb, you were grabbing your things and heading out the door. "Y/N, I don't know who's made up such lies about me, or if it's just you who likes to have a guy repeat how fucking sexy you are?"

"Pardon?" It felt like being hit by a brick. A brick that snapped you out of any cloudiness you previously felt.

Kenan smiled and broadly so. "I meant it the first time I said it, I like you Y/N, all of you."

It was as if a vail unraveled before you, revealing the beauty that was Kenan. His smile, his dimples, the cocky way that he arched his splintered brow, it was all offered to you, all you had to do was accept. A few minutes later you were going at it again, tongue deep, your bodies grinding against each other as if you were trying to start a fire. It was the wildest thing that you had ever done, to ride someone on a living room couch, not holding back on the moans, a pure reflection on how good it felt to have Kenan inside of you. He was merciless, shameless even. And after the first round he had you spread your legs while he went down on you for twenty minutes, refusing to let back to back oragsms stop him from making you squirm. You would certainly regret it in the morning and the near future, but for now you let yourself go under.

Part 1 Part 2

[sapphicseasapphire]

Hii! Hello, I really love your Cryptid au!!!

Something I'm wondering about, if it makes any sense

So like, Time is A God, right? And over however many hundreds of years, he loses his connection to humanity?

So, in the far future, maybe like around Botw, he'd probably be more like the other deities and more well known, right?

Would characters like Flora or Impa, for example, if they knew who he was, be like super amazed about the fact that there is just straight up A God talking to them?

ahh if that makes sense, it's kinda hard to explain!

Hi! This is a great question, thanks for asking! Allow me to ramble and hope that I answer it in a roundabout way haha!

(Under the cut because long)

So, Time’s journey into Godhood is a very long one. His progression from mortal to deity goes quick, but he doesn’t truly embrace his power for centuries after his mortal lifespan is over. In his own era, with Malon and his children, he tries his best to just be a normal guy. He wants to be a dad, a husband. He wants to worry about the fate of the ranch, not the fate of the world. Mostly, he’s afraid. He never wanted to be a God. He never uses his powers.

(He’s like this for the majority of his travels with the Cryptid Chain)

Every Cryptid Link that comes after Time’s era has a different version of the God of Time, the earlier ones not really having an established God but being influenced heavily by his power, and the later ones knowing plenty of myths and legends about the God of Time, but his impacts on their lives are much less obvious. Easily written off.

Time’s most important era, other than his own, would be Twilight’s. This happens only like a hundred or two years after his own life should have ended, and Time is very committed to protecting his family. And so, as the Man of Many Faces, he personally sees to it that Twilight learns how to fight. As the Hero’s Shade, he trains the young Shapeshifter and rewinds time to save his life or give him another chance when things get rough.

He watches when Twilight finishes his adventure. He watches when Twilight leaves to go on the Cryptid Chain’s adventure. He watches until the journeys are over, the battles are won, and everything is quiet. He watches Twilight breathe his last.

After that, he decides that he can’t do that anymore. And while he still protects his boys in their future adventures, he doesn’t get nearly as involved. And it’s not just the Links that he stops interacting with- it’s all mortals. He still does his job diligently. He keeps the timelines in order, he protects his people. He receives prayers and answers what he can, but he does his work from the sidelines.

Because of this, as he truly ascends to Godhood, he is a mystery to mortals. Like I said- earlier Links have been more personally impacted by Time but didn’t know who he was (he was too fresh of a God to be established) and the later Links have been more indirectly impacted by Time but it could be interpreted as mere coincidences. Time would be more well known, but less detectable.

By the time he’d reach Wild’s era, he’d be very reclusive. Flora, the history major we all know and love, would absolutely know about the Hero of Time and all of his titles and names. Impa, Paya, the religious leaders, would also be very knowledgeable about Time’s legends and myths. Purah, our favorite Sheikah researcher, 100% knows all about him! It’s common knowledge, I think, in Wild’s era, but these ones are especially familiar with Time’s history.

Except… the God has not shown himself to the world in thousands of years. I actually do have a scene in mind for one of my storylines where Flora meets Time. She doesn’t know exactly who he is- Cryptid era Time doesn’t act very God-like, at least not like any that she’s come to know of- but there’s something about him. Power rolls off of him in waves, his mere presence is overwhelming. He seems to shine with subtle iridescence, his voice is quiet but it carries. She knows, on some level, that he has authority over her. Over All. (Time would deny this to the ends of the earth, but there’s no denying the truth: he is a God. There’s no escaping that).

I hope this makes sense??? Trying to talk about Time’s lore gets confusing since there’s so many time jumps and rewinds and skips. To summarize, Time stops interacting with mortals so he becomes somewhat of a mysterious God. So while Flora would know of him, she wouldn’t know what to look for. When she meets Time, his present is her past- her present is his future- and present Time is nothing like future Time, so Flora doesn’t recognize him.

This is all Pre-God Reveal, of course haha!

I hope this answers your question?

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: She Calls Me Daddy Now {One Shot} ***

Title: She Calls Me Daddy Now {One Shot} ***

Lewis Hamilton x GF Reader

Warning: Language, 18+ Content, NSFW, Petty Behavior, Exhibitionism, Cursing, Slight Voyeurism, Back Door Play, Oral, Crude Language, 

Words: 5.4k

Summary: Your ex was the one to leave first. The breakup wasn’t mutual and for 4 months you were FWB until things fizzled. Flash forward 5 years later you’re in a happy relationship with Lewis when said ex comes strutting back thinking he still got you. After seeing you and him in the background of a friend’s live at a party he drops his plans and decides to tap into his reckless side and show ol’ dude who you belong to and remind you why he’s the only one for you.

Note: The self-declared queen of petty is back with more entertainment for the petty ones out there (me). Tell me Lewis wouldn’t be like this though.

 As always, thank you so much for reading, I appreciate it!

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!

 ***NOT Edited/Proofread***

~~~~~~~

“I think it’s best if we end things now before we end up hating each other.”

 You blankly stared at him expecting him to further elaborate. He didn’t though.

 “So—that’s it?”

 Malcom shrugged his shoulders then sighed. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. It wasn’t like this was a shock because you’d been distant with each other for the last month or so and hadn’t really spent too much time together, but this was the natural cycle of your relationship. You’d have months of hot and heavy behavior where neither of you wanted to be far from each other. Then you’d have months of distance where you still kept up appearances for a relationship but being up under each other was more a turn off. You’d thought this was another roundabout cycle of that. Malcom stood from the table.

“What if I disagree?”

Malcom paused, glanced at you for a few moments then slowly sat back down. “Come on Y/N. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

 “Is there someone else?”

Malcom didn’t respond to that; he finished his drink then pulled out his phone to answer a call but hesitated.

“Is that her?”

“There’s no one else, Y/N. I just think maybe we need a break. I think we’ve hit a rut and need some time apart.”

This was unbelievable. He was the one to chase you. He was the one to put in the work to cuff you up and now he was the one who wanted to break up. Malcom stood again then rubbed the back of his hand against your cheek. “Stay beautiful.”

With that he walked out of the café leaving you at the table to wonder what the fuck had happened. You weren’t used to being the one broken up with. It felt odd being on this side of the table.

 “Well, ain’t that something.”

When you’d told your friends later that night, they were equally shocked, but their sentiments were the same, “fuck him.” They went into overdrive showcasing all the things you could do now that you didn’t have a boyfriend and though you knew you were lined up to enjoy life more you still had to be real with yourself, you weren’t happy about the end of your near two-year relationship.

You took the necessary time to nurse your bruised ego and hurt feelings and worked on yourself with a ton of self-care, therapy sessions, a whole body and mind reset and plenty of holistic care. After 4 months you’d dropped twenty pounds, eradicated the hurt feelings and patched up your ego. The night you and your friends went clubbing to help you get your groove back and a new body to fall under, there Malcom was.

What started at flirtatious looks across the club turned to him buying you drinks, dedicating songs from the DJ, a couple dances and then a trip back to your place for what you could only classify as a drunken mistake.

However, said drunken mistake continued to happen again and again and again. One night turned to two, then three and four, until before you’d realized it, you’d hooked up every other night for two weeks straight. So, the agreement was no strings. Whenever either of you felt an itch, you’d meet up and do filthy things to one another all in the name of pleasure and escapism. Was it fun? Absolutely. Was he good in bed? Definitely. Did you see it going much longer? No.

Sure enough, after 4 months things fizzled, and you were the one to leave this time. That brought much needed points to your ego, but it gave you peace of mind more. You were over it and ready to move on. It was true what people said, time heals all wounds, and everything runs its course.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

 -5 Years Later-

“Yeeeeeeeees!”

 You jumped up and down watching as Lewis’ car sped past nabbing the P2 placement.

 “Yeah baby!”

 You and your friends exchanged hugs, all of you ecstatic for his victory. You turned back and watched the jumbo screen and tried to hold back your tears. It had been a long season and he still had plenty of it to go. This season was a major struggle with results Lewis didn’t like. This was one of the first semi pleasing finishes. You knew though he’d taken 2nd he wouldn’t be one hundred percent happy about it because Lewis only accepted number one. He’d be the hardest on himself today.

Not wanting to wait anymore to congratulate him, you made your way to the team are where you planned on waiting for him. Seeing the celebration was well underway, you exchanged hugs with most of the crew on the team.

 “Maybe he’ll be easier to manage tonight,” Toto said.

You snorted because you both knew that wasn’t going to be the case. He knew he’d be just as hard on himself for a P2 placement as he would to not have placed at all. The look you exchanged said he was thinking the same thing you were. You both chuckled then.

 “He’s lucky to have you, Y/N. You get him in a way not many do.”

You smiled as pride emulated from you. It had taken work, work that you both had excruciatingly put in over the three-year duration of your relationship. He’d taken the time and care to learn you by understanding your quirks and ticks. He took the care to learn what triggered you and your preferred love language. Even though both of you had equally felt as if your relationship wouldn’t work because of how much work it was when you factored in both your schedules neither of you gave up.

 “When I said I was all in, I meant it, Y/N. I’m all fucking in.”

You smiled at the memory of his words the first time you’d made love for the first time. You’d taken a whole different route with him because you didn’t want to appear easy. You’d made him wait a whole 6 months before you let him take you to bed. In that time, you really got to know each other and build a level of trust between you that laid the foundation for where you were now.

You saw Lewis rolling up and seconds after the car stopped the crew stormed. Their cheers were deafening, and their antics only made you laugh. They clapped him on his back, shook him, and shouted numerous congratulations. When his eyes locked on yours, your belly flipped. The look in his eyes said it all. He smiled and nodded to those around him as he made his way to you. Those to the back of the huddle got his intention and paved a way for him to jog over to you. Lifting you into his arms, you wrapped your legs around his waist and hugged him tightly.

“Congratulations baby!”

He squeezed you so tightly you just wanted to melt into him and call his body your new home.

“Thank you, love.”

Your eyes met again just before you pressed your lips to his. What was to be a sweet, demur kiss quickly morphed into something more, something frenzied. His hands roamed up to your backside and the soft nudge you felt between your bodies said someone wanted attention and they wanted it now. Lewis groaned as he nibbled your bottom lip.

 “Woah, let’s save that part of the celebration for later,” Toto muttered into Lewis’ ear with his hand on his shoulder.

 Embarrassment filled you as you realized you had the attention of damn near everyone around. Some looked as if they knew just where this was about to go, others looked amused while a few were slightly jealous or an emotion similar to it. Lewis placed you back on your feet, but you kept your body pressed to his.

 “Gonna be able to get him under control?”

 Lewis grinned then kissed your jaw right by your ear.

 “That’s your job.”

 He then turned and walked away with his crew to get to the after-race procedure. Before he disappeared, he turned then winked at you and it was then you saw just how hard he was, and that race suit was not helping one bit. Did he care? Nope, the smug bastard looked proud.

Sure enough, three hours later his “hard, bulging print” was all over social media. Everywhere was referring to it that way and everyone was going wild for it. They thought it didn’t leave much to the imagination and fueled all the rumors that he was in fact blessed by every mythological god that was ever worshiped.

“Oh, this one is funny,” your best friend Sonja began holding her phone to her face, “I have no idea how his girlfriend takes that. From the looks of him, I’d say he’s at least an eight incher—at least.”

 You pinched your lips. They were not far from the truth at all.

“Wow, this one. Gah-damn! Sir Lewis only got knighted once but I think he qualifies for a second because that’s a whole nother grown ass man down there.”

That one had you busting out with a laugh. The three of you were cackling for quite a while until Deja read another.

“He’s a shower and a grower. RIP to his girl’s holes.”

You clapped your hand over your mouth as your eyes rounded as big as the moon in the sky. “Oh my god!”

“Girl don’t even act surprised. RIP to you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Obviously my holes are just fine.”

“So you say.”

You giggled because you knew you’d told them about the lengthy adjustment period when you guys first started having sex. There was definitely an adjustment period and plenty of weeks maybe months where you were left sore.

“That man knew what he was doing,” Deja said.

You agreed. There was no misinterpreting his intentions. Lewis was the kind of person who didn’t care about what people said about him. He didn’t care much about his image and really didn’t care who thirsted or who didn’t. He only cared that you never misunderstood things with him. You made your hard limits clear and he’d respected them ever since. You didn’t hate the thirst he received, didn’t hate the fangirls and guys who thought he was as hot as you thought he was. It was the same with him when it came to you.

“You better get the thirsties under control.”

“Naw, no need. They can thirst, shit me too!”

The party was getting louder now, and everyone was surely having a good time. You still hadn’t seen Lewis since leaving the paddock a few hours ago. You’d split up, him to fulfill after-race obligations mainly interviews and photos and you to get ready for the party. He had a whole week before his next race and after this win, you’d be damned if he didn’t actually celebrate it.

Pulling out your phone, you texted.

 MSG: Are you here baby?

You took the glass that Sonja was holding out to you and took a big sip. You phone vibrated but before you could look at it you felt an arm wrap around your waist. Smiling, you turned expecting to see Lewis but who you saw had you looking and feeling like you’d stuck your hand in fire.

“Hey beautiful,” Malcom said with a wide smile.

“Uh—Ma—Malcom?”

“The one and only. Funny seeing you here.”

Registering that his hand was around your waist, you pulled away taking a few steps away from him. The look on Malcom’s face shifted to confusion but quickly back to a cocky grin.

“Long time no see. What’s it been? A year or two?”

“More like three but who’s counting. You good?”

He nodded as he took a sip from his glass, “Yeah, yeah. Just—”. Malcom to a step to you closing the space you’d just opened. His head dipped to your ear. “I miss you.”

You leaned back and looked him over. His eyes were unreadable. Could he have been telling the truth? Maybe. Did you care? Not really.

 “Uh--.”

 “You don’t miss me? I was thinking about you the other night and how we used to get down and I almost called you. I wanted to.”

“Malcom--.”

His hand came around your waist again pulling you closer. You could tell he’d had a few.

“Maybe we could try again,” he added.

“Do we have a problem?”

You peeled his hand open and pried his arm off of you. As he reached for you again, another arm tightly wrapped around your waist pulling you backward. Your body knew who it was and the tension that was coursing through you dissipated, and a calm washed over you.

His voice was low, unwavering, and devoid of emotion, but his touch was possessive. His hand dipped lower resting just right atop your pubis. Malcom’s eyes widened then his brow crooked as his eyes fell to where Lewis’ hand rested. When he clenched his jaw, you knew he got the message.

“Problem?”

“Yeah. Looked like you were lost or something,” Lewis added.

Malcom and Lewis stared at each other. Whereas Malcom’s eyes radiated annoyance, Lewis looked calm and so goddamn smug that your belly flipped. It was so sexy how in control he always was.

“Not lost. Y/N and I go way back. I just wanted to get her to my room and catch up like old times.”

You cringed. He did not have to say all that. Anyone with a brain could decipher what that really meant. Lewis’ fingers tightened against your body, and you knew his annoyance was raising. He wasn’t a visibly jealous man ninety percent of the time. He kept his jealousy quiet, and under wraps and never let it out until you were alone. Right now, the tightness of how he held you was the only visible sign of it.

“Em, Malcom and I used to date—until we didn’t and moved on,” you clarified wrapping your arms behind you and holding Lewis as close as he was holding you.

Malcom’s jaw clenched again.

“Yeah, 2 years, then a couple months of—ya’ know,” Malcom said with a wink at Lewis.

“Oh. Got it. Oh wait, baby is this the one who couldn’t--.” Lewis asked drifting off to stick his tongue out and flick it.

You pinched your lips in an effort to keep the snort at bay. One thing with Lewis he’d always resort to pettiness to put someone in their place.

“Ah, I see. Well enjoy the party, Malcom.”

Lewis turned to you then dipped his lips to your ear. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He led you away keeping his hand around your waist. When you were a few feet away but still within eyesight of Malcom he turned you, pressed your back against the pillar then kissed you. Dipping his tongue into your mouth, you moaned and held him close. You knew what he was doing but didn’t care. You had your moments of recklessness too.

You danced, drank, laughed, and partied to your heart’s delight. With every drink you had, your freak meter went higher and higher. You couldn’t keep your hands off of Lewis and didn’t care who wanted to watch. With your back against his chest, you ground your hips circling yourself on his hardened dick. Lewis groaned.

“Be careful, princess.”

“Why? We both know you don’t care walking around with your dick print on display.”

He laughed then nuzzled his face into your neck. “I want you so bad," he mumbled into your ear before he bit down on your earlobe.

A few seconds later, he stood keeping your ass firmly pressed against his crotch. “I’ll text you.”

He slipped away disappearing in the crowd as you swayed feeling the slickness between your legs. Your horniess had reached critical levels.

  -Lewis-

You were so well suited for him that every time you were near, he automatically responded. It didn’t matter where you were or who you were with. One spark was all it took. He feared in the beginning that something that burned so hot, so furious and so wild would only end badly but three years in and there was no sign this trolley was going off the rails. He was sure, you were his forever.

The way you brought out his reckless side was dangerous and the way you knew it and capitalized on it was scandalous. Fucking with you he’d end up on the front of The Sun with his pants around his ankles and balls deep inside of you.

He chuckled to himself remembering the types of places you’d had to sneak off to in order to get a quick nut. The dressing room of The Graham Norton Show, behind a tent at Coachella, all over multiple paddocks, inside his racecar, underneath a jacked-up car while hiding from the crew, a dark corner of a club, a dark park, in the countryside after taking a break from riding horses, in the dessert after dirt biking. The places were endless.

As he looked around for the perfect spot to disappear with you, he tried to keep his desires in check. When he peeped into a private show room, he saw that same dude from before sitting there with his phone in hand.

“Op, my bad.”

Backing out he continued his search.

“I know who you are.”

“What?”

“I know who you are. Everyone knows who you are. Everyone also knows that you fuck out girls and toss em’ aside. You think that’s right for Y/N?”

His brow cocked and his head angled to the side. Taking a step to him he took a breath. “So you think you know me.”

“Look I don’t give a shit that you’re some hot shot driver and celebrity. I don’t give a fuck bout any of that. I only care about Y/N.”

“Now? She told me about the last relationship she was in. Told me how you broke up with her. Now you’re here what—playing the good guy? The guy who wants to save her from bad ol’ me?”

“We both know you’re not serious about her. Let her go.”

“Ah, I get it. You think if I’m out the picture she’ll come running back to you?”

“I know it. You’re just a rich and fancy distraction. You know she used to call me daddy.”

 He smirked. This guy’s audacity was ridiculous. Just then he felt the evil tinge on his pettiness, and he was powerless to resist it.

 “Cool.”

 It was all he needed to get out before he walked back down the hall he’d come from and back to you.

  ~~~~~~~

 -Y/N-

It had been almost fifteen minutes since he’d disappeared and the longer, he was gone the hornier you became.

MSG: Baby let’s go back to the hotel. I don’t wanna wait anymore.

You knew he’d be able to read the whine in your text.

A pair of lips latched onto your neck almost making you flinch.

“Mmm, let’s go.”

“I found the perfect spot. Come on princess.”

Lewis bit your neck as he tweaked your nipple. You cried out because that was all it took for some wetness to turn into a waterfall. Allowing him to lead you through the strip club themed party, you held on tightly to his hand. Up a flight of stairs and into a dark and neon lit hallway is where he led you. Before he continued, he pressed you against a wall so you could feel how hard he was.

“Do you want me as much as I want you?”

You nodded and made a move to kiss him, but he pulled away and yanked you after him. Walking into a room that slightly darker and lit with neon lights you barely registered anything before Lewis had you pressed against the wall with his tongue down your throat. You moaned and rubbed yourself against him using his clothes for friction against our hard and aching nipples.

“I love the way your lips taste baby.”

You wrapped your arms around him and grabbed onto his perfectly defined ass.

“What if someone--.”

Lewis pressed a button on the wall. “No one in, no one out.”

You smirked and went in to kiss him but again he backed away and went to the row of cushioned seats against the mirrored wall. His legs were wide open as he watched you.

“You want a show baby?”

He groaned, licked his lips, and patted his lap. You shook your head.

“You have to beg for it.”

Prancing over to him you swayed your body to the hypnotic music accentuating your curves with every move. Lewis’ eyes drank you in as you kept yours on him. Turning your back to him you swayed your ass, bent forward, touched your toes, and peeked at him through your open legs.

“Fuck, that ass.”

“Mmm, you wanna fuck this ass?”

“Do you want me to fuck your ass tonight, princess?”

His heavy hand landed atop your ass cheek making you moan.

“I want you, Lewis.”

“Only me?”

“Only fucking you.”

“Come and prove it.”

You approached him standing over one of his thighs then continued your dance. Lewis’ hand roamed up your leg and thigh to skim over your sex.

“You’re so wet baby.”

For a few moments his fingers played with you, circling your clit then rubbing back and forth until he pinched it between his fingers. You were moaning loudly now and too much in need. You sat on his lap then kissed him. Lewis cupped your breasts through the corset top you wore and sucked in a breath.

“Do you feel how hard I am babygirl?”

You nodded. without any more words you slipped off his lap onto your knees between his legs then undid his pants. Like a confined beast his dick sprang free nearly slapping you in the face.

“Fuck!”

“Mmm baby all this for me?”

“Do you want it all?”

“Every--. You tipped your tongue out and licked him from base to tip. “Single.” Then swirled your tongue around his swollen and leaking head. “Inch.” You then slipped his bulbous head into your mouth and sucked not going easy on the pressure.

“Awwwwww Fuck!”

Lewis’ head lulled back as you sank lower and lower until he was nestled snuggled in your throat.

“Mmmmm.”

“Aaaaaah yes, Y/N. How that dick taste?”

“Better than candy daddy.”

Peeping at him you saw his lips quick into a vicious smile. Before you could ask him what was going through his head, his hand locked your head right where it was as his hips lifted sending every inch he was blessed with down your throat. Relaxing, you focused on not gagging and moaned. Lewis sucked in a breath then panted.

“You suck this dick so well baby. Look at me.”

You did as he asked, locking eyes with him and saw his intent. Relaxing your jaw, you opened as wide as you could hooking your lips over your teeth so there would be no accidents and allowed him to fuck your mouth. With every plunge Lewis hissed and every withdraw he groaned. His thrusts started slow, then sped up until he was near brutally face fucking you. Taking everything he gave you added a few tongue swirls as you nudged forward to meet each of his thrusts. When he hit a high pitch, you knew you had him.

However, before you could go in for the one hit quitter, Lewis pulled himself from your mouth, pulled you up then tossed you onto the table that was in the middle of the room. In seconds he was on you kissing you like his life depended on it. Once you were breathless from his kiss, Lewis’ lips roamed your body bringing his focus to your breasts. His teeth made their mark as he bit them through the leather of your corset and though it wasn’t direct contact your body didn’t seem to care. The reaction was the same.

Your back arched and his lips dipped under your skirt. It didn’t take him long to slip your panties to the side and lazily lick from ass to clit.

 “Fuck!”

Clamping your thighs shut you locked him right where he was. That didn’t stop him though. Lewis easily pried them apart and pressed them back to the table as he attacked your clit with fast licks that nearly sent you shooting into the sky. You were so close.

“Fuck baby. I’m so close.”

Lewis moaned then slurped your flesh. Your thighs instinctively flexed in an attempt to shut but Lewis wasn’t having it. Showcasing his strength, he kept you right where he wanted and pushed you closer to the edge. When you felt him dip his tongue inside of you your belly flipped, muscled bunched and skin prickled with goosebumps as if the room was cold when it was in fact not. It was sweltering with the heat of your shared passion.

“This pussy tastes so good. Whose is it?”

“Yours!”

Again, his lips found your clit and he sucked. Just like that it was over. The pressure inside of you burst through making your thrash across the table. Grabbing his head, you kept his face still as you flicked your hips smearing your pussy across his mouth that greedily slurped, licked and flicked against you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Lewis!”

The table you were on rattled as if an earthquake was passing through when in fact it was just the aftereffects of your release.

“Mmm. My pussy tastes like heaven,” Lewis said as he stood then slapped his dick against your sensitive clit. A breathy gasp was all you could muster.

He pressed forward laying his mighty length over your pubis. It reached to your bellybutton. Lewis circled his hips rubbing his balls against your soaking sex.

“Stop teasing me.”

“Teasing? What do you want precious?”

“You.”

He slapped his dick against your clit again and your back arched.

“Mmm.”

“What-.” Thwack. “Do-.” Thwack. “You-.” Thwack. “Want-.” Thwack.

With every heavy slap of his dick against your clit the more stars you saw. Your body was feeling so greedy that your words failed you, so you rocked your hips against him hoping to coax him to give you what you both wanted.

“Fuck you’re killing me, but I know you’re worse off. Tell me.”

“I want you to fuck me now!”

“How do you want me to fuck you?”

“Hard!”

“Are you sure princess? You won’t be sitting right for a few days.”

“Fuck me until I can’t breathe, fuck me until I can’t think or speak. Fuck me, Lewis!”

 His lips smirked deviously again, and his eyes looked into the mirror behind you. Lewis dipped to your ear, bit it then whispered.

“We have an audience.”

Before his words could register, he rose then flicked his hips forward so forcefully your entire body jerked when he joined you with him.

“Aaaah!”

He didn’t wait. Pulling back, he did it again and again and again. Each time the loud squelch that echoed in the room should have been embarrassing but it wasn’t. You weren’t ashamed of how wet he got you. Lewis continued to thrust into you with brute force nudging that secret spot inside of you that tensed more and more with every touch.

“Fuck, this pussy always swallows me up. So—fucking—greedy!”

He emphasized each word with a back breaking thrust that sent your eyes to the back of your head.

“You’re gonna cum, aren’t you? I can feel it. Cum for me princess. Cum all over this dick!”

On command your body released and clenched around every inch he had buried inside of you.

“Aaaaaah!”

Lewis groaned but never relented. His thrusts sped for a few moments before he pulled out entirely and flipped you onto your stomach. With your ass in the air, Lewis rubbed his dick right where he’d asked if you wanted him to fuck. It was then you grasped his meaning telling you that you wouldn’t be sitting right for a few days. Instead of fear, excitement filled you. Lewis’ fingers dipped inside of you coming away with the evidence of your orgasm then rubbed it on you.

As he prepped you with one then two and finally three fingers you moaned and panted as you got wetter and wetter.

“I can’t wait anymore baby. Fuck me.”

“God, I love you princess.”

“I love you.”

He dipped to your ear again. “Do you know who’s watching?”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

Lewis chuckled then joined your bodies again, slowly, inch by inch until he was wedged so tightly inside of you, that you almost felt like you were going to break apart. His groan was strained, and his grip was tight on your hips.

“Fucking hell,” Lewis gritted out.

He pulled back then thrust forward and you whimpered. Hands down Lewis was the best you’d ever had. You’d found your sexual match in every way and every time you were together it felt like there was no one else in the world but the two of you.

“Ready baby?”

You nodded. He sped his hips and flicked steadily forward making your back arch from the angle. Your hand instantly flew to your clit and that was where it remained. When Lewis had a fast and steady speed his thrusts intensified.

“Oh my god! Oh fuck. Yes baby. Fuck me. Right there. Just like that!”

As his hips sped, so did your fingers and soon both of you were chasing your own releases. Lewis grabbed the back of your neck and lifted your head.

“Look!”

Before you, the glass had become see through and on the other side was Malcom watching every single thing that was happening. The rage and fury in his eyes shone brightly like hot coals. He clenched his jaw so tightly you were sure it would shatter but upon every thrust your vision blurred and all you could focus on was Lewis delivering yet another pounding for the record books of your relationship.

“Fuck yes!”

“What do you want him to know princess?”

“Mmm. I love your fucking dick. You feel so fucking good I wanna scream!”

Lewis jackhammered you and took over the work your fingers were doing.

“Aaah!”

“What—else!”

“It’s yours,” you whispered.

Again, Lewis grabbed the back of your neck lifting your head so you looked at Marcus.

“He can’t hear you. Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours!”

“Whose?”

“Yours daddy! it’s fucking yours. You fuck this pussy so right. Just you!”

“Look at him as you fucking cum for me and only me. Look at him so he can memorize your face, look at him so he knows his fucking place and knows why you’ll never leave me, why I’ll never leave you. It’s you and me till the goddamn end!”

You whined as your body began to shake. Through tear-streaked eyes you looked at Marcus.

“I’m gonna cum!”

“You’re gonna cum who?”

“Dadddddy!”

You screamed and it turned into screech as you lost all control over your body. Lewis continued pounding into you for a few more moments before he also came filling you up like a twinkie.

“Yes, Y/N! Mmm.”

You were delirious and seeing so many stars you were sure you were floating through space right now. Through your delirium you heard Lewis speak.

“She calls me daddy now!”

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

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[zot3-flopped]

"Harry helped to actually keep all of them down and make sure the industry kept them in the dark to favour him." (goongiveusnothing) OH FUCK OFF

My observation of how Harry behaves or doesn't behave towards the others is this:

He knew from quite early on that he was the most popular. In the band, he didn't milk that, and he never acknowledged it. Since then if it's been addressed in interviews, he ignores the questions and redirects the focus. He did start dressing differently once Harry Lambert was involved, but that's it. There is no end of shade he could have directed at all the others and he didn't and does not.

He waited till April 2017 to release a single. He didn't craft it to be a better version of what anyone else was doing. There wasn't even a radio cut of SOTT. Had he wanted to 'keep all of them down' he could have released a pop hit but actually, he held off and released something that wouldn't compete. Was that him giving everyone time and space to do their thing? He will never tell. It's an interpretation, though. (One of many, I admit!)

He's never talked about Larry except that mealy-mouthed roundabout answer (that was still a clear no!) when someone suggested Sweet Creature was about Louis. So we know that a lot of Larries will ignore his words regardless, as they do with Louis, but if Harry weighed in on Larry, Louis would have lost some fans, which he couldn't afford. That's just how Louis' fanbase shook down at the end of 1D. Harry could have kept Louis down by losing him fans if he said Larry was all bullshit. An easy win, if he wanted to win.

He mentions the others so rarely by name. What would happen if he did? A big old Harry Styles headline and more reunion talk in the press. It's my belief that Harry isn't hankering after a reunion, so he doesn't want that to overshadow his solo work. But the others have all had solo work as well, and if you notice, they don't bring up the reunion either: it is the interviewers. It's not just him trying to achieve space between 1D and solo work, they are all doing it. The exception was Liam and that's just a sad story, he needed the mentions and the connection, for himself if not for his work.

The simple fact about Harry is he looks the part, he seems to enjoy dressing the part, he and his people make music that the GP like as well as 1D stans, and that is that. He has aged into a face and a body that's intensely appealing to a lot of women of all ages. He doesn't talk too much, he is an enigma, and he seems to be lovely to people when he does talk. Fgs, he is hardly keeping anyone down through good looks and good manners lol. He is not wearing a sparkly jumpsuit with his pecs out in order to make Niall, Louis, Liam and Zayn look bad.

(I'm sorry this is so long, it is just such a stupid idea, I don't even know why I wasted my time writing it out, that person is a total lost cause.)

👏👏👏 Agree that if Harry really wanted to 'keep the others down' there's plenty he could have said. A hint that he found one of them difficult to get along with, or favouring one member's solo music over the others in a big interview. He never did.

I've wondered for a while where the extreme rage and bitterness on that Nothing account comes from, and finally we know. She's a Louis Tomlinson fan. Unfortunately for her, Harry lives a quiet, blameless life, so she has to focus on things that make her look ridiculous - endless obsessing over his hair, for instance.

[sonicasura]

I've been reading and going over Kaiju No 8 for awhile now. Kafka oozes pure disaster dad energy. The amount of times he accidentally parents his younger teammates and step in when need be is constant. Kafka clearly does a better job than a certain blonde teammate's father.

Anyway, why not really throw him through the dad shaped hole in the wall? I already got a few good examples. There's plenty of material from other media. I'll be adding some personal headcanons to Kafka's Kaiju behavior. Fully believe he wasn't unaffected mentally. Full headcanons here.

He has a feral side driven by primal maternal instincts. If the human half marks you as his kid(or whelp in kaiju term) then so will the other part. Feral side comes out under extreme distress like his whelps being in danger to a very powerful threat near them.

Kafka unconsciously exhibits animal behavior from his kaiju half. It ranges to purring, nuzzling, gentle headbutting, even grooming which includes licking. He's very embarrassed about that last bit cause he tries not to.

Also his Kaiju side is prone to adding changes without his consent. Extra appendages such as a tail, tendrils or even wings. This is merely so either mind can catch up and provide support like to his whelp. Kafka will struggle to will these away.

With that out of the way, let's get started.

Kirby

Yup. I'm really going there this time using Right Back At Ya cartoon for some inspiration. Kirby crashlands near Kafka's house a few years before the beginning of Kaiju No.8. The man across discovers the baby star warrior and is faced with an inner crisis.

It's clear Kirby is an alien but also a BABY. Kafka decides to keep the little pink puffball unaware of what said decision would bring. Like whenever he falls asleep, the man finds himself in Dreamland alongside Kirby. An unconscious effect from the Star Warrior that furthers strengthen into a small share of power aka being able to use Copy Abilities via Copy Essence.

Yup. I'm throwing Kafka through the ringer with the games first. He deserves a little heads up that his new kid is essentially a walking blackhole that can kill gods. Plus the boost is gonna be needed since Kafka won't have his Kaiju form until canon begins.

If you are wondering how he'll handle Kirby's appetite in his world, his job is cleaning up monster bodies. Thus any parts that will be trashed will go to the puffball instead. Yes, Kirby uses Cook Kirby to cook kaiju meat and share some with Kafka. A new business in the food entry might open up from it.

Finally we soon reach Kaiju No 8's events. Kirby is a stealthy little puffball who can find Kafka no matter where he is thanks to their bond. This connection being two way where emotions, location, current status and thoughts can be felt.

Kirby feels Kafka's distress from his kaiju transformation thus searches for him. Now the age range to join the Defense Force doesn't change here. Then how will Kafka keep his promise? Well it's quite a roundabout actually.

Kafka initially decided to help Reno get in while he tries to find a different legal way of getting into the forces. This way being an analyst from how quick he can pick out Kaiju weaknesses and strengths.

It was Reno's suggestion that led to this alongside being in the same division. Now Kafka trains his Kaiju abilities in both worlds. Finding training partners in Dreamland is easy but for his world it delves into vigilantism.

Kirby and him fight any kaiju that shows up on their radar if the Defense Force can't engage in time. The Star Warrior is listed as Kaiju No.8.5 by DF before you guys ask. It's mainly because he's never seen without 8.

How people view the duo is quite mixed. One part views them as heroes, one part is deciding/neutral and the last is a threat. A mix of emotions that even gotten to the Defense Force.

Engaging the two is very tricky and it's not just for potential backlash from the public. The Defense Force theorizes that No.8 treats No.8.5 as its whelp. Kaiju who follow their maternal instincts are much more dangerous than any other.

Thus everyone is in for quite a ride with this duo.

Rin Okumura

Next up we have the protagonist for Blue Exorcist and demon prince. I'll be doing a separated from birth scenario so Kafka shall be raising a more demon Rin. Earth and Assiah aren't in the same dimension either.

Now they don't officially meet until Rin is three. The cambion surviving on his own via animal blood, garbage or kaiju meat scraps. Kafka finds him when the toddler gets caught up in the aftermath of a Kaiju attack.

Like with Kirby, he's quite conflicted but decides to raise Rin. It starts off a little bumpy as the cambion much stronger than Kafka and his demon features are still present. Like the tiny horn nubs hidden underneath the fire, obvious tail, long ears, claws then finally fangs. Rin's flames only dissipate when he feels safe or content.

Can't forget his temperament either as Kafka been bitten a few times until the toddler truly trusts him. Once that does occur, anyone being mean to the man is met with Rin's wrath instead. Cambions are quite protective when it comes to their claims.

Kafka manages throughout it all as he plans how to become a Defense Force Member. His fellow Monster Sweepers know about Rin's condition and are fully protective of the kid. One reason why Kafka can keep attempting the test.

Rin is homeschooled and taught various things from controlling his fire to handling his anger than just basic education. The most important lesson is being reminded he is loved no matter what. The bond they both share grows stronger especially when Kaiju No.8's events officially starts.

Rin is present the moment Kafka turns into a kaiju. He also helps his father with this newfound power just like the man did for him. Reno is informed of Rin's inhuman status around the same time. Can I say brotherly relationship?

The father and son take out kaiju together but keep their identities hidden. No one has been able to identify Rin due to the young man always cloaking himself in blue fire. His obvious non-human visage marks him as Kaiju No.8.5.

The parent-whelp relationship between the two is quite clear to the Defense Force despite minimal confrontations. Analysts still try to clarify Rin's true form with no success from the intensity of the blue fire. Only thing they know is that he has a humanoid physique leading to speculations about both bearing a similar resemblance.

The cambion decides to join the Defense Force although as a potential trainee than full fledged member. Rin might be strong but he'll need to do some extra studies first. And an actual fighting style to use.

The path of the blade still follows Rin but he won't become an exorcist this time. Kafka will be there to help his son every step of the way. Whether they be human or not.

Link

Finally we got the bearer of the Hero's Spirit and eternal reincarnate, Link. I'll be going with BoTW/TotK iteration as I want to save OoT/MM for a different time. Linked Universe might have a part in this.

A camping trip gone wrong leads to late 20s Kafka to wake up outside the Shrine of Resurrection. He stumbles upon the newly awakened yet amnesiac Link. Feeling bad for the young man, Kafka helps the blonde on his journey. (Get home is a secondary goal.)

Throughout the adventure, Kafka helps Link more than just being a travel companion. He becomes an outlet for the Hero of Courage to express himself. A person to confess his sorrow, fears, and true feelings Link kept hidden from everyone else.

Unrelated note, Kafka is a magnet to fairy/divine creatures. Blupees follow him, the Great Fairies flirt, and the Sacred Dragons grant the man a gift should they cross paths. Kafka might've gotten a Blupee companion he named Konpeito.

Both however become separated upon the defeat of Calamity Ganon as Kafka returns to his world. (Konpeito comes with him.) One day, the older man begins to write letters to Link after receiving advice from a peculiar old woman. Letters that reach back and forth between the two worlds as they keep in contact.

Link and Kafka don't reunite until TotK begins. The latter has begun his first day as a kaiju. An accidental desperate wish from Link pulls the older man back to Hyrule. Both learn how to use their new powers as they journey to stop Ganondorf.

However Link's powers and Rauru's arms taken an unfortunate hold. The blonde slowly becoming a Zonai the more he uses his powers. Hero's Aspect is a conduit to make sure Link doesn't permanently lose his Hylian form. (I'll be designing the Zonai form later cause I don't like the Ancient Hero design. Also he's keeping Rauru's arm.)

Now this adventure comes with an incredible gift. A pair of Secret Stones that can allow travel between both worlds. Link decides to help Kafka join the Defense Force. Using his Zonai form, the Hylian hero helps the man fight kaiju in disguise.

Link is listed as Kaiju No.8.5 by the Defense Force since the two always fight together. Confrontation tends to be avoided especially when the Zonai got badly hurt amidst a kaiju battle. Kaiju No.8's fury and the immense damage to follow was proof enough.

Don't touch a whelp when the parent is around.

For Linked Universe(a fan LoZ comic series) shenanigans, it's a mix between being the Chain getting dumped there or Kafka and his son Tears get dragged in for temporary assistance. (TotK Link's nickname is Tears as BotW/Wild will be present). Entire reincarnation/curse business makes Kafka's head spin more than just the unknown enemy and portal mischief.

All these Links are technically his son so he is parenting all of them. Even Time(OoT/MM) whose probably a few years younger than him. Mostly everyone except for Wind(WW/PH) are befuddled or wary of the man who can become a mask monster. Nevermind the fact his world is ridden with giant beasts and kaiju attacks are normal.

Kafka is gonna have his hands cause everyone in the Chain reeks of various trauma. Trust issues, transformation based dysphoria, martyr behavior, and anything a Link adventure shall give. Plus his feral kaiju side is gonna rectify that whether everyone likes it or not.

"So what if you can turn into a wolf, Twilight(TP)? I think my scale covered mug would scare a lot more people." / "No one is gonna hurt you while I'm here, Hyrule(OG). They will be torn apart if they even dare try." / "Want some gum Wars(HW)? I heard it helps calm your nerves?"

Better watch out. This group of heroes got adopted by a himbo kaiju man and he won't hesitate to destroy anyone who dares harm them.

And that's it for now! Until next time folks, I'll see you later.

[blue-winged-boy]

Some thoughts about the whole Kim dressed up as Shannon scene and Eddie's arc...

Is it royally fucked up from the both of them to do this weird roleplay? Absolutely. We still don't know what Kim's agenda is at this point or if she's just like that, and wanted to do something good in a roundabout twisted way but she's not the focus this episode.

We have known for a long time that Eddie never processed Shannon's passing and the idea of the divorce. He desperatly needed that closure and even though it's far from the healthiest way to do it, this man definitely needs therapy, I don't think anything else would've allowed him to properly face his deepest fear and trauma. It broke everything. This man has put up so many walls to protect himself and lives so far in denial that he litterally had to be presented with a clone of his dead wife to finally be able get closure. He loved her so much and he never understood what he could've done to make her stay, to make her love him back as much as he did. Finally saying out loud that he deserved a letter too, that he deserved as much love as he gave, he can finally let her go. She's gone but he did everything he could, he doesn't have to blame himself for her death, for the divorce, for her leaving Christopher. He's broken but now he knows that it's not a relationship or another Shannon that will fix him and make their live magically happy again. He needs to work on himself and re-build himself without the ghost of Shannon always present.

I know Christopher is gonna take it hard but ultimately he wants his dad to be happy and I think he's gonna understand eventually what his dad's going through. Who better than anyone to understand the grief of losing Shannon than Chris. He's gonna be angry for sure, but mostly he's gonna be worried for his dad and I think he's gonna share his concern with Eddie, and that's what will push Eddie to really go to therapy. Chris knows they have plenty of people to take care of them, that love them so much them for who they are and won't judge them (cough cough *Buck*) and he's gonna help Eddie realise that whatever happens there's always gonna be someone to come back to. But he's gonna tell his dad that he's not okay, that he's suffering and he needs to be happy by himself. Eddie will do anything for his son, whatever it takes.

Would I have liked the arc to be handled differently and for less people to be hurt? Definitely. But the writers did a good job with Eddie's grief and what it took for his character to get to his lowest point. It can only go up from here.

And let's not forget that Ryan's delivery was gut wrenching and an amazing performance. This man deserves his title of actor with all the hard work and the heart and soul he puts into his performance.

(This is my first theory-ish post and just some rambling and what I think of the scene. Sorry for any formating, grammar or spelling mistake as well since english is not my first language).

[thevindicativevordan]

For Absolute Superman, who would you want to see be this Superman’s main love interest if he has one at all?

Not Lois, Lana, or Wonder Woman. Especially not Lois or Wonder Woman. Clois is already the focus of MAWS, Superman & Lois, and presumably Gunn's upcoming reboot. We do not need another Elseworld Superman story that reaffirms the two are soulmates. Particularly not one that makes a big deal of taking away all the comforts Superman usually gets! Taking away Ma & Pa, Smallville, and the Fortress but giving Absolute Superman his soulmate strikes me as a complete waste of the concept. For this Earth, the two of them need to not be endgame, frankly I'd prefer if Lois was actually his enemy. With Wonder Woman I'm simply bored of that being the #2 go-to and would rather have Maxima.

I want Aaron to pair Kal with someone we haven't seen thoroughly explored at this point, ideally someone that the regular Superman would never get with. Who would have thought that Spider-Man and Kitty Pryde would make a great couple for instance? Couldn't work in 616 but Bendis paired the two in 1610 and people loved it! Outside of MJ she was easily the most popular love interest. Kitty had a different dynamic with Peter than what we see with the 616 pairings Peter and Gwen or Peter and Black Cat, and I want something like that for Absolute Superman. I know who I would pick:

They were going to pair Jon and Jenny together for 5G and frankly that is such a brilliant idea that I want to see it used here in the AU. Jenny has a weird history with "Superman" via an expy of him called the High, who in a roundabout way inspired the creation of the Authority. She clearly had feelings for him, which makes it plausible that she would be attracted to the genuine article. Plus Jenny is similar to Lois! Look at her getting ready to smoke a cig while scoffing at Superman's optimism, how is that any different from Kidder Lois' first interview with Reeve Superman? Jenny is a cynical idealist at heart, just like Lois, but the difference is she's a powerhouse on par with Supes in her own right.

If Absolute Superman is more raw and angry, more willing to physically fight the powers-that-be, what happens when he gets involved with someone who has power and also is pissed off? Instead of Lois telling him calm down, we get Jenny going "fuck yeah mate, let's smack some gits upside the head." Imagine if we didn't get an Absolute Justice League but an Absolute Authority instead? I'd love it if each Absolute Trinity member formed their own team rather than joining together as expected. Superman forms the Authority, Batman the Outsiders, Wonder Woman forms Shadowpact - that would be exciting!

Simply put, with Absolute Superman I want to end every issue unsure of what happens next and that's why I don't want to see the same relationships we've already seen explored done so here yet again. Jenny offers that, but there are plenty of other options. Up to Aaron if he actually chooses to purse one.

[indignantlemur]

Hey it’s been ages but I hope your feeling better :)

First of all, you're adorable! Second, thank you very much for the well-wishes! I am indeed almost all better (finally!) and looking forward to getting the full rotation of my wrist back at some point!

(Also, hilariously, a lot of people seem to think that the spider that invaded my desk was responsible for my injuries! It definitely wasn't, but the mental image of a tiny spider conspiring to throw me down the stairs in the dead of night is hilarious!) (In fact, another creature entirely was responsible, if in a very roundabout way! See, my fiancé got home very late that night, after driving a friend home after our weekly D&D game, and as he pulled into the driveway and cut the engine he heard something moving in the dark. We're rural, so it's quite dark at night, and we have a gravel driveway. There's a lot of wildlife in the area, and livestock occasionally escape from their pens and go for a wander. We also get deer and the odd elk through the area - but more importantly, we've had an adult black bear in the area that's not nearly as afraid of people as he rightly should be, and while black bears are just little guys as bears go, they can still do plenty of damage! So, Darling Fiancé calls me from the car and asks me to come downstairs and flip the lights on so he can get an idea of what's going on before he exits the car. I duly rush downstairs to do just that, and while I'm flicking the outside lights on, I have a thought: it could just be a daft deer, wandering around in the dark. If it is, and I fling the door open suddenly, that will scare it off! And if it actually is a bear, I can slam the door shut and call animal control while my fiancé stays nice and safe in the car. Brilliant! I immediately head to the garage and start down the little stairs, fully convinced that this is a splendid idea and Darling Fiancé will praise me for being so proactive and helpful! I don't make it to the bottom of the stairs. Or, rather, I do - but much, much faster than intended. I slip. I fall. I land - but I'm hyperflexible, so things move in ways nature never actually meant for them to do and I land badly. I scream, because that's what people do when bits of their extremities that don't normally touch suddenly get very well acquainted at high speeds. Darling Fiancé, who at that moment was in the process of looking for the source of the gravel noises, leaps into action and rushes to my aid! ...But not before watching a very fat raccoon scamper away, equally alarmed by the horrible noise coming from the garage. Later, at the hospital, a nurse asks me what happened. I'm embarrassed and in a lot of pain, so I hesitate a bit and then offer, very meekly, "...I fell down the stairs." Darling Fiancé, who has been wheeling me about in the world's most uncomfortable wheelchair and is therefore directly behind me during this conversation with the nurse, just puts his head in his hands and sighs.)

[atamascolily]

There's a game I play as a writer that I call "Story Problems" -- I'll stop an episode or a movie halfway to three-quarters of the way through and try to sketch the ending I think the writers have in mind based on what I've seen thus far. Obviously, this is much easier with self-contained mysteries and ten-minute one-shot children's cartoons than extended dramas, but through regular practice, I've learned to pay attention to all the clues dropped in the exposition and how seemingly unrelated details are woven together into a coherent narrative whole.

Some people use the term "Chekhov's gun" for these hints, but I prefer "set-up and payoff". No matter what you call them, writing is essentially a sleight-of-hand performance, where the writer tell the audience exactly what they're going to do while simultaneously distracting them so that they're too busy focusing on other things to notice until the big reveal.

All this is a roundabout way of saying I've spent a lot of time thinking about the "story problem" represented by Walpurgis no Kaiten and how it might unfold.

First and most importantly, why bring Walpurgisnacht back in the first place? What role can a seemingly defeated witch (however mysterious) have in PMMM going forward? What are we, the audience, missing that would allow us to make sense of this? What in her story remains incomplete or unaddressed?

I sympathize with those who wanted Walpurgisnacht's nature to remain a mystery, but I think that ship sailed the moment SHAFT decided to bring her back for the sequel. If indeed Walpurgisnacht is returning--and why name the movie after her if she isn't?--then she must be somehow connected in some way to the main cast beyond her role in the original series as the Final Boss, or else why even bother?

(Seriously, if SHAFT wanted Walpurgisnacht's presence to be a surprise, they could have titled the movie literally ANYTHING else, but they didn't. That was a deliberate choice on their part, so I not only assume that Walpurgisnacht must be important somehow--central, even--but the big twist is not THAT she returns, but HOW and WHY.)

Cut to several years of radio silence after the initial announcement, giving me plenty of time to think. One night in the fall of 2022, the following conversation played out in my head unprompted:

Brain: Hahahaha, you know what, I bet they're really going with the whole 'Homura is Walpurgisnacht' twist after all! "L'audace, l'audace, toujours l'audace", and all that. Plus, can you imagine how angry this will make people on Reddit? Me: Okay, but why are you telling me this NOW?

Brain:

Me: crying You sick son of a bitch.

To be fair, improbable plot summaries have something of a history in this franchise--if I were to travel back to 2012 and tell people that Homura becomes a witch and traps everyone in her labyrinth and then turns into the Devil, I don't think many people would have believed THAT either until it played out in front of them. But this one was particularly disheartening because the "Homura is Walpurgisnacht" theory*--which was initially popular when the series was released--was seemingly discredited in Rebellion with the appearance of Homura's witch Homulilly. To say otherwise was going to be one hell of a hard sell for a lot of people.

(*I know, I know, I know, Walpurgisnacht is a composite super-witch made of multiple entities, but I need a shorthand way of describing it, even if it's not as technically accurate, so bear with me here.)

But even though my assertion seemed counterintuitive on the surface, I was convinced that it would eventually prove to be the case for several reasons:

1) Another game I like to play as a writer is called "The Worst Thing That Could Possibly Happen" (alternate title: "Put That Character In A Situation"). Essentially, I try to imagine what would hurt/challenge the characters the most for maximum drama or effect, and then I make it happen. Based on Homura's history and her relationship with Walpurgisnacht, what would be the worst thing that could possibly happen re: Walpurgisnacht's return?

Well, given how much Homura has invested in protecting Madoka from this witch--from reliving the same month hundreds of times over to becoming the self-proclaimed embodiment of evil just to make a world where Madoka could be happy--the worst thing that could happen to Homura would be that she discovers that everything she's done, all that she's fought and sacrificed for, has led directly to the one thing she's been trying to prevent this whole time: the (re?)creation of Walpurgisnacht herself.

In other words, this tweet:

I mentioned my theory to someone recently, and their response (paraphrased) was that they felt the original series had already covered this particular form of dramatic irony and they hoped WnK would go in a different direction. Fair enough, but this is a series that thrives on revisiting the same scenes from different angles, to the point of a shot-for-shot remake of Madoka with her family at the beginning of Rebellion to mirror the original series! So just because they've done similar things before doesn't mean it's necessarily off the table in the future--to me, that makes it even more likely, actually. And frankly, I think some amount of revisiting the past was inevitable the moment SHAFT decided they were bringing Walpurgisnacht back in the first place.

Given PMMM's obsession with cycles and repetition, I'd go one step further and make it worse: not only are Homura's actions what bring Walpurgisnacht back, these same actions are what lead to all the Walpurgisnachts in the past, so that Homura created the very monster who killed Madoka and caused Homura herself to become a magical girl in the first place. Essentially, Homura becomes her own ancestor in a massive time loop/bootstrap paradox with no beginning and no end (or at least, that's how it seems at first--I doubt that's where the story TRULY ends, though it would make for one hell of a cliffhanger).

It would be bad enough if Homura directly or indirectly created Walpurgisnacht AND created a time loop, but you know what would make the situation EVEN WORSE? What if the enemy that Homura had been fighting for so long wasn't some other external force outside of her, but her own SELF-- if Homura not only created her own enemy, but also WAS that enemy, too, becoming the thing she feared and hated the most? I've talked in my previous posts about how PMMM excels at making the metaphorical literal, as well as its proclivity for turning characters into their opposites, so this would be a logical next step in that direction.

Given that Gen Urobuchi's nickname is "the Urobutcher", I think it's safe to say he knows how to make characters suffer. Thus, I'd be deeply surprised if he doesn't play the same game that I do--and if so, he might draw similar conclusions to the ones I've outlined above.

2) A major twist in every installment thus far has been that Homura is not who or what we think she is--first a time traveler, then a witch, then the Devil. If this pattern continues, what new revelations would surprise us about Homura? In order for the story to continue, it's likely that she must grow and change beyond her Devil persona--what might that look like? A transformation into the massive super-witch that was her enemy would certainly answer both questions and then some, although it may not be the answer people want.

(If nothing else, Homura will likely have at least one new outfit in Walpurgis no Kaiten so that SHAFT can sell the merchandise, lol.)

3) Not only do Homura's actions drive the plot of PMMM, the franchise is deeply concerned with her emotional life, and she is the center around which everything revolves (although this is not always immediately apparent due to the way each installment is structured). Thus, it's likely that Homura's relationship with Walpurgisnacht is both central to the plot and deeply personal--and what could be more personal than this?

4) In a show with excellent visual design, where every detail is selected with care, and usually means something (even if that meaning is not immediately apparent), there are far too many visual and narrative parallels between Homura and Walpurgisnacht to be a coincidence. Having the two be connected in this fashion would explain all of this in a concise and satisfying manner.

5) One of the things I admire about PMMM from a storytelling perspective is how efficient it is--every character and detail has a purpose, and nothing is wasted. Having Homura be/become Walpurgisnacht is not the ONLY way to establish a connection between them, but it is undeniably the simplest and the most efficient from a purely technical angle, as it only involves one character the audience already knows and cares about vs. adding an entirely new entity to the mix.

That was my answer to the story problem of "What is Walpurgis no Kaiten about?" in late 2022, based solely on the limited information available to me (i.e.m the title of the movie + everything that has come before). But while it seemed abundantly clear to me--almost inevitable--that Homura would somehow become Walpurgisnacht, I didn't have a good explanation for HOW this might come about beyond "timey-wimey reality-bending and/or multiverse shenanigans"--which, while adequate for my purposes, was not enough evidence to convince others of my argument, and so I let the matter rest.

Then the key visual dropped in September 2023, and I burst out laughing the instant I saw the second Homura, because I knew how SHAFT was going to solve the problem that had stumped me: one Homura would create/become Walpurgisnacht and the other would attempt to stop her (and probably fail, at least at first).

Homura is such a complex and multi-faceted character, I think it's a bit simplistic to say that one of the pair will be purely good and the other evil. Suffice to say there will be one Homura that we're rooting for (the one with ribbons) and one that we're probably not rooting for (the one with the headband) and leave it at that for now.

I'll freely admit that I still don't fully understand the mechanics of how and why there are two Homuras or how Walpurgisnacht arises from the actions of one or both of them, but I don't need to: everything we need to know is contained within the framing of that key visual. Homura will be the source of all her problems in this movie; that's all that matters. Everything else is details--delicious, to be sure, and I look forward to analyzing them in great detail, but the core (heh) conflict of the movie is already apparent.

Of course, you could make the argument that my original gut feeling was wrong because the second Homura doesn't "count" as Homura. To me, that's semantic hair-splitting--for my purposes, if she looks like Homura and is voiced by Chiwa Saito and retains all of Homura's powers, abilities, and associated symbolism, then she IS Homura in all the way that really matter, but I'm sure people can and will disagree with me on that. In the end, when it comes to PMMM, it's Homura all the way down--and I think Walpurgis no Kaiten will make that literal before the end.

(not gonna lie, the idea that all the Clara Dolls turn into Homuras too, so that Walpurgisnacht is made up of nothing but Homuras is pretty delicious--but so is the idea of the doppelganger Homura somehow hijacking or corrupting the Law of Cycles, which we know is full of witches, and turning it to her own ends. Or both, both is good, too!)

I know a lot of people hate the "Homura is Walpurgisnacht" theory, but I think it keeps popping up for a reason, and will continue to do so until Walpurgis no Kaiten finally gives us sufficient information to either make it canon or lay it to rest for good. Personally, I love the idea--as a quick browse through my "#vein of gold" tag will attest, I love when characters are forced to confront their shadow selves, their dark sides, and their doubles; I love when the call is coming from inside the house. For me, Homura becoming Walpurgisnacht wouldn't be cliche or boring, it would be a plot twist that would explain everything we've seen to date while simultaneously re-framing it, making it a Greek tragedy of incredible proportions. And a lot of people hated the whole "Homura becomes the Devil" twist when Rebellion came out, so why should Walpurgis no Kaiten be any different in this regard?

One of the things that I love about this franchise is that it's never been afraid to go big and bold and cosmic while simultaneously remaining deeply personal--and solidifying the connections between Homura and Walpurgisnacht would be all of those things at once and then some. I don't know why this particular idea has captured me, or why I feel so strongly about it, but in the end, I don't have any inside information, just an intuition that refuses to let go.

Ultimately, I suspect whether you like this theory or not comes down to whether you think the primary conflict of Madoka Magica is external (characters battling an enemy outside of themselves) or internal (characters battling an enemy within). My gut feeling is that Walpurgis no Kaiten will be an internal battle playing out on an external stage, essentially making this a "both/and" situation, and it will revisit many elements of both the original series and Rebellion while simultaneously breaking new ground.

It may well be that Urobuchi and SHAFT have a different answer to this particular story problem than the one I've outlined here--but if so, I can't see it. In the end, all I can do is imagine the story that I would write based on the clues I've been given, which may or may not be the same as the one they are planning. We'll find out if there's any truth at all to my intuitions or if I'm barking up the wrong tree when the movie finally comes out.

And hey, if I'm going to be wrong, I'd rather go out with a wild and crazy idea than playing it safe with some half-assed guessing. If I can't be right, I might as well be INTERESTING. And there's always fanfic to fall back on if the movie ends up going in a radically different direction and I still feel strongly about this by then.

[thenightfolknetwork]

Greetings and salutations! Most people writing in say that it’s their first time doing so. I admit, that isn’t quite the case for me. I sent in a letter back in 1942, asking about whether or not I should medically transition—though of course the terminology was a bit different then.

I admit, I don’t remember the specifics of your response, but whatever it was, within twelve months I was taking testosterone pills. And I’ve been on HRT since then! It’ll be eighty years come January. I suppose I’m what you might call an elder in the community, though I certainly don’t look it.

That’s sort of why that I’m writing to you again. As you know, most genuses age getting older, but some age getting younger. My genus, whatever it is, does a combination of the two. I aged normally from when I was born til when I was 73. At that point, I died, spent about a day and a half decomposing, a day and a half un-decomposing, and then popped up out of my casket! My relatives were… surprised, to say the least. I think we all were. Regardless, I grew younger at the same rate until I was seven years and four months old, and then boomeranged and started growing older again. I’m currently in my third repeat of this cycle, putting me at about 375.

I don’t mind it, honestly. I know that a lot of folks who grow younger tend to dislike it, for very understandable reasons—being patronized by someone a fifteenth of your age is quite an experience. But aside from the condescension and not always being able to reach the top shelf, I think it’s pretty fun! Nothing beats hide-and-seek as a nine year old, and when I’m in the de-aging half of life, it’s always a relief to get my 30-year-old knees back.

There is another aspect to it, though. However my body ages, it de-ages in the exact same way, no more and no less. For example, let’s say I get a tattoo when I’m 27 years and two days old, while aging up. I’ll have that tattoo through when I die, and all the way back down to when I’m 27 years and 3 days old. It’ll disappear sometime during the following day, and by the time I’m 27 years and one day old, it’ll be like I never got it done. It’ll pop up again the next time I’m that age, but for those 40-ish years, I just won’t have it.

And attempts to change by body while I’m growing younger all vanish after the day—I’ve become very well-versed in wigs for this reason. I can change my body while aging up again (I don’t choose the tattoo example lightly; someday I’ll figure out a system that prevents me from getting overlapping ones), but it's a rather long wait.

Still, it’s primarily just a nuisance. I’ve had plenty of time to figure out workarounds and roundabouts. However. I’m almost 34 right now, and have about 14 months until I hit the date I first took testosterone. My boy-thday, if you will. Ahem. Anyway. For the past few years, I’ve been slowly but surely getting a body closer to the one I had when I started medically transitioning.

I’ve tried continuing to take T, consulting with other people who grow younger, even contracting time travelers to see what they could do, all to no avail. When these 14 months are up, I’ll have a form indistinguishable from the one I was so desperate to escape. From then, it’ll be about 20 years until I’ll have even a little-kid sort of androgyny again.

I have lived through this period in my life before. I’ve lived through it on five separate occasions. I will be alright. But every time, it hurts. Quite a lot. And I fear that these upcoming two decades will hurt even more, since I’ll know what it’s like to live without that underlying sense of constant pain.

I’m not exactly sure what I’m asking here, maybe you can tell me what my question is, but, um. Do you have any advice?

Thank you so much for writing in, reader. It's always lovely to hear from people who have found my advice helpful in the past, and I hope I can offer you the same comfort and support you felt in 1942.

An important thing to remember here is that, no matter what stage of life your body is at, it is still your body. To be clear: a trans body. Your physical appearance may seem to be resetting, but your life experience is not wiped out by each new cycle. You carry with you all your past experiences, and all your current perspectives.

You may or may not consider yourself to have been male during your first adolescence. The way we frame our own histories naturally varies from person to person, and not everyone retroactively identifies their younger self in the same way they identify in the present.

But regardless of how you perceive that earlier self, your current self is undoubtedly transgender. That doesn't change just because your body does. When your dysphoria starts to rear its head, hold onto that. Your body does not define your gender, and your identity is valid no matter what you look like.

Of course, you still need to find ways to manage that dysphoria when it happens. I'm sure you're well aware of your options for temporary, daily management of your appearance through wigs, gender affirming clothing, and so on. You might also consider applying a glamour to yourself to help your outward appearance more closely match your inner self.

If you're not a practitioner yourself, you can either use ready-made glamours or hire a practitioner to craft one to your own specifications. Even off-the-rack glamours can be expensive, however, so you may want to save this option for special occasions rather than daily use.

Beyond that, your best defences against the anguish of gender dysphoria are good mental and emotional health, and a supportive community. Be sure to practise regular self-care (real self-care, not the type invented to sell face masks and scented candles) and lean on your loved ones as much as you need to during this difficult period.

Finally, remember: your body is not the enemy here. You deserve to be treated with gentleness, love and kindness, and this extends to your physical self, too. Try to develop a practice of mindfulness and active gratitude, checking in with your body regularly and taking note of all the joys you can experience as a physical being, from enjoying the cold wind on your cheeks or the smell of clean bedding, to the delights of good sex, delicious food, or a hot shower after a long day.

This is a difficult time of your life, and you have my sympathy. But I don't believe it has to be a source of “constant pain”. Treat yourself kindly, let others support you, and know that no matter what the world perceives, you know who you are, and nobody can take that away from you.

[For more creaturely advice, check out Monstrous Agonies on your podcast platform of choice, or visit monstrousproductions.org for more info]

[open-at-the-close]

Initial thoughts after reading HOFAS

There is a shit ton of information in this book and I had a lot of feelings and I'm sure I forgot plenty of things throughout the 800+ pages, but here's a start.

SPOILERS AHEAD.

First things first: all hail motherfucking Ruhn. Ruhn is hands down, without a doubt, my favorite character ever written by sjm. Honestly, he's my favorite character ever written by anyone at this point. He is the absolute best, kindest, best brother and friend anyone could ever ask for. There were moments that I feared for his life. I thought I was going to throw up when Baxian bit off his fucking hand, and when the prince of hel said he was selected as the one to die I vowed to never read another sjm book if he didn't make it. Phew, glad we dodged that one guys because I don't know if I could have upheld that claim. But seriously, this book only made me love him more and I'm thrilled at his happy ending.

On that note, basically everyone made it through this book. I mean yeah, Cormac sacrificed himself and that was sad, and jessiba traded her life, but I mean she had 15 thousand years. Everyone I care about and their friends and family made it. I am shocked. I fully expected Tharion, Baxian, maybe Ithan, or either Flynn or Declan to die. And I was bracing myself for the heartache, but they literally all survived.

Speaking of Ithan...what the hell even was that? His storyline is so strange and roundabout to me. I already thought it was weird and unnecessary that they through him loving Bryce into CC2, then he gets offered a spot as alpha, doesn't want it.. saves the mystic wolf, fucking kills her.. tried to bring her back, turns her into a reaper.. still tries to get people to follow her, even though he doesn't want the Fendrys to lead anymore and basically everyone is hinting for him to just do it himself, but no, he doesn't want to lead...and then poof he's not just an alpha he's the fucking prime. Okay pup. I like his character, sort of, but that storyline is weird.

Where the hell was the dragon the whole book? I assume Tharion's book will be the next one and we'll get some answers on that.

Speaking of my poor little Mer. His life is depressing as hell in this book. I fully didn't expect him to make it because, man he just kept taking losses. Here's to hoping he gets a better story in the next one.

I wanted more from the world merging. I loved Az and Nesta being Az and Nesta, and I loved this book, but I was annoyed with Bryce for her entire trip there and she kept making stupid decisions that led to her being on terrible terms with them and I didn't like that. I do appreciate that her and nesta ended on better terms though.

I feel like they just casually glossed over the fact that Rhysand and Bryce are basically distant cousins. He is a descendant of one sister and Bryce is a descendant of another, and that wasn't addressed at all. Neither was the fact that Ruhn looks just like Rhysand. Maybe I'm being greedy about the world collision, but I just wanted moreee.

Speaking of world colliding if we don't get a TOG spin off out of this she is just being cruel. The shifter world. Urd = wyrd. The drawings in the caves. Lidia's son is literally named after Brannon! I mean come on. Give me the unfinished stories of TOG.

I'm sure there is more I want to say, but that's all that is coming to me at the moment. Also, in case it wasn't clear, I really really loved this book.