#so what if he's the devil!? at least he's active in the community!

[blehhblep]

my wife btw

[lainalit]

artists: Tamlin: mftfernandez | Eris: vaieart

[lemmeurs]

this house of hope, your tomb.

this was drawn in the aftermath of me completing the house of hope so i was being swallowed by a lot of feelings okay

so what if he's the devil rick at least the devil has a job, at least he's active in the community

EDIT: if yall like this so much, why not check out the 1600+ words essay i wrote about this man and his quest?? 👀

[everwalldigan]

“Bruce Wayne did this Bruce Wayne did that” SO WHAT?? SO WHAT IF HES THE DEVIL, RICK? AT LEAST THE DEVIL HAS A JOB. AT LEAST HES ACTIVE IN THE COMMUNITY

[muzaktomyears]

Yoko’s life revolved around her acquisitions, but her most valuable acquisition was John. By marrying Lennon she had established herself as a celebrity and financial power to be reckoned with. It was the process of acquisition – not the object itself – that kept Yoko going. Antiques were routinely delivered, examined, and carted off to Apartment 71 or to the basement for storage. Clothes were bought and hung up, never to be worn. Once she had acquired something, Yoko lost interest in it. She lost interest in John after they were reunited and she lost interest in Sean after he was born. She treated them both with an icy reserve bordering on contempt.

Life became complicated for Yoko because John was not an inanimate object, but a human being – one with an active imagination, a strong sex drive, boundless energy, and a terrible temper. Indeed, Yoko lived in fear of John’s occasional outbursts of anger and frustration. Although he remained quietly behind closed doors most of the time, she knew well that John’s passive and self-absorbed behavior masked an overwhelming restlessness. Like an old lion, he could turn and bite your head off when you least expected it. Whenever John got a little stir-crazy upstairs and threatened to become “difficult”, Yoko attempted frantically to appease him with vague promises, or she would scare him with ominous psychic predictions and mystical mumbo jumbo. Usually, Yoko could keep John in line with a few carefully chosen words. One of her favorite ploys for controlling him was to tell him that the planet Mercury was going retrograde, a perilous astrological period during which accidents were likely to happen. When I asked John what Mercury being retrograde meant, he explained that it was an astrological period when the planet Mercury, “the messenger”, appeared to move backward against the sun, causing massive disruptions in communications and generally creating “chaos in the cosmos”. Yoko was always to tell me that we had to keep John isolated for his own good. Once in a while, John would try to circumvent Yoko’s strict rules, but he would often regret it soon afterward. For instance, one day John was listening to radio station WBAI when he heard a very eloquent, urgent plea for contributions. New subscribers were to receive a copy of a book titled The Devil Was a Woman. John wanted the book, and as WBAI was one of the radio stations he frequently listened to – he was particularly interested in nutritionist Gary Null’s health show – he impulsively ordered me to call up and contribute one thousand dollars on his behalf. Immediately, the station announced the contribution. When Yoko heard about it, she read me the riot act. She reminded me angrily that whenever John acted impulsively, I was to bring his behavior to her attention before following his orders. I was to consult her about all matters involving John and “human relations”, or his having dealings with the outside world. “After all,” explained Yoko, “I’m here to protect him.” I assured her I understood perfectly. Yoko had the key to John Lennon, and she used it to make John her sole possession by taking him out of public circulation. The old lion had pulled in his claws eagerly and agreed to give up rock and roll and its deleterious lifestyle. Because of his self-destructive behavior when he was on his own, John believed that the only sane alternative was to isolate himself. Moreover, Yoko had offered him the opportunity to try parenthood all over again. When she managed to give birth to Sean against all odds, John took it as a sign of divine intervention. He told me that both he and Sean were “riding on Mother’s good luck”. His childlike dependence on Yoko was so great that he dreaded the thought of Yoko dying before he did. “I hope I go first,” John had told me, “because if Mother died before me I wouldn’t be able to face life on my own.” He had resigned himself completely to the proposition that he could not survive without Yoko. Thus, John willingly sacrificed his freedom for the illusion of safety. And it was part of Yoko’s Faustian pact that she had to keep John, for better or for worse, and remain an appendage to John’s fame and to the pervasive Beatles legend, no matter how much she craved independence and personal fame. It was no wonder that she bitterly resented John, even as she was constantly conscious of the need to retain his loyalty. Without John Lennon, Yoko Ono was just an eccentric lady with no money and no power – and for this she would never forgive him.

John Lennon: Living on Borrowed Time, Frederic Seaman (1991)

[genderless-naper]

sweet words

trafalgar law x gf!reader

sfw, fluff!

warnings: some mention of blood

wc: 1.5k, lowercase intended!

law never expected for his words to have a strong effect on you. he decides to use them to his advantage when you’re refusing to listen.

⇣ credits to the original artist

you and law still have a lot to learn about each other. granted you both have only recently decided to put a label on. you knew you both liked each other, but being asked to be with his felt like it took an eternity. nonetheless you two were ecstatic to finally be official after beating around the bush for months.

before making it official, law only really knew one side to you. that was the side that was meant for friends. he believed he would now see a different side of you, especially since he was more than just a friend. to his surprise he never saw a change in your behavior. you remained the same as when you both were friends. he found it strange, but in the end he decided not to press you about it. you probably will once you’re more comfortable. right? plus, he wasn’t one to talk much either. in fact, he seemed more refined than you had been since getting together.

he found you amusing, particularly your ability to refuse anyone's nonsense. your boldness and confidence made you stand out in these endless seas. with your bounty arguably high he often times found you handling rival pirates and their attacks with ease. you made it difficult for law to focus on his own battles. as worried he could be he still trusted you to not do anything rash.

unforeseen circumstances would soon cause that to change. worried crew- members rushed around the submarine to find law. one they found him, their words tumbling over one another in a chaotic attempt to communicate.

law felt uneasy when the mention of your name arose, “everyone be quiet. only one of you needs to speak so i can actually hear something.��

the crew looked at each other quietly until penguin cleared his throat, “y/n was keeping these pirate hunters away a-and…”

law felt a sudden heaviness form in his chest, “and what..? what happened to her?”

penguin kept his eyes glued to the ground, “she’s with bepo.. she was b-bleeding a lot…”

without a second thought law swiftly created the hand signals to activate his room and shambles. he moved himself to the land the submarine was docked next to.

he took in his surrounding, and saw bepo’s white fur l sitting down with back facing law’s direction. he made his was over to the bear without a second thought. his breath hitched as he saw you on the ground in a bruised and slightly bloody mess. law couldn’t tell if the majority of the fluid was your blood or of the pirate hunters. he dropped to his knees next to the bear to check your pulse. a sigh of relief parted from him as he felt the slow but steady beat against his finger tips.

bepo held you tight while tears trickled down his face, “i told her to be c-careful! now shes gonna die!”

you opened your eyes slowly and let a frail laugh out, “c’mon now.. i’m not gonna die from some stupid pirate hunters?”

law couldn’t conceal the relief that flushed over him, “you’re okay y/n-ya… don’t ever do something so reckless. especially without informing me first”

you sat up slowly and fixed yourself, “i was fine until their stupid devil fruit user. i should’ve knocked him into the water while i still had the chance.” you wince in your attempt to sit up. you held your pained side instinctively.

law spotted your pain immediately since his eyes were focused in your every movement, “i need to treat you y/n.”

you shook your head. you didn’t want to be perceived as weak. it would damage the strong front you’ve built for yourself. law knew you wouldn’t give in so easily, but your strong facade was the least of his concerns. he wouldn’t risk leaving you untreated.

you stood up from your seated position next to bepo. you ignored the minks protests and concerns. law watched as you swayed, struggling to keep your balance, until you ultimately fell back to the ground.

you hadn’t noticed you were falling to the ground until law reached out to grab you. he stayed in his seating position. and helped you to lay back down while resting your head on his lap. every fragile breath you took amplified the tattooed man’s concerns.

he moved strands of hair from your face, and carefully wiped as much dirt off as he could. he knew the only way to get you to listen was to talk you into it. he held your eye contact and spoke clearly, “i know you don’t want to y/n-ya, but you need to hear me out. you need to let me make sure you’re okay because you did so great protecting the submarine”

you looked up through your lashes and spoke tiredly, “i did great..?”

law hums lowly, “you did it better than i could’ve ever asked for. thank you for giving it your all baby.” he took one of your hands in his in order to hold it. never once breaking eye contact.

law didn’t expect for his words to work so well. he continued to use them to his advantage, “you did so amazing so in return im gonna make sure you’re well.”

your once smile broke off quickly, “i don’t need a check-up law! i’m fine!” you sit back up slowly, and turn your back to face him.

law knew he had to use his words more efficiently, “i know you dont think you need one, but it would mean a lot to me if you let me help you y/n.”

he recognized your walls faltering slowly. he helped you to stand then used his devil fruit to move you both inside the submarine. he helped you into the examination table while making sure to send his supportive words your way.

uneasiness was still painted on your face as he talked you into doing his basic checkup routine. as he was in the process of cleaning and covering your cuts he spoke out to you, “i know this is the last thing you want to do be doing, but i just want you to know that you’re doing great. it’s gonna be over soon.”

a slight blush crept to your face, “you really think so?”

law looks up from his task and flashes a small smile, “i really do think so. im proud of you for doing something you would rather want to avoid. this is better than just being physically strong sweetheart.”

he started to put away his supplies, and continue to look over the tests he had done. law had left the conversation to quiet down so his focused attention on his work.

you watched the man in front of you do all that he could to make sure you were feeling better. you broke the quiet as you spoke in a hushed tone, “could you say that again..?”

law looked up from his papers with a confused expression. the recent conversation had already left his mind, “say what?”

you cleared your throat, “what you called me just now.”

law recalled the conversation to find your reference, “the only thing i called you was sweetheart?”

your eyes lit up when he repeated it, “yeah that!” your tone went back hushed, “can you call me that again..?”

the man put away the remainder of equipment as he smirked. he stood in front of your seated figure, and put both his palms in the table next to your hips, “why should i? do you like when i call you that sweetheart?”

you kept your head down to hide your reddened face, “kinda…”

law wasn’t quite satisfied with your answer. he tilted your chin up to look at him, “yes or no y/n. do you want me to keep calling you sweetheart? does that make you happy?”

you couldn’t disguise the affect law’s words had on you. he had never talked to you this way, and you never expected to like these reassuring expressions, yet here you were with a pleading look to be told more.

you nod slowly trying to piece together a proper response, “i guess it does make me happy. it makes me feel warm and comforted..”

law chuckled at your response, “well i’m proud of you for telling me that you like it. i’ll use my words more often if its what pleases you darling. tell me what else you want to be called.”

your smile was increasing in appearance, “i don’t really know. i just know that i like it when you call me that.”

law chuckles again at your honesty, “its okay if you don’t know right now. we can always test and see what you enjoy hearing sweetheart. you just have to make sure you tell me when you do. can you promise to me that you will baby?”

you nodded fast at his proposal, “i promise i will”

he saw your growing smile that hinted at being please with his offer. although you were both new to the relationship, you knew that as time passed, you would discover more about each other and reveal different sides of yourselves. each moment together would promise deepened connections. this would make the journey of getting to know one another all the more exciting.

[ladiemars]

so what if he’s the devil? at least the devil has a job. at least he's active in the community.

[fanfics-i-find-here]

Do I Know You? Part 23

Synopsis: the brunch begins! You have a conversation with Duke and Damian.

Note: this has been interesting to write just because there other people I have to work into the story. I think this might feel rushed, like there’s a lot going on but that could just be me. Enjoy the brunch (part one of it at least)!

Masterlist

Despite being cajoled into a suit, neither Bruce nor Alfred pulled Jason into the opening activities of the event. Jason may be legally alive again, but it wasn’t something the family wanted the press in on. Of course, they were prepared should someone ask, but why flirt with the devil.

You had questioned it. A sweet tilt of your head had the late morning light catching your eyes, out on the edge of the crowd, while Bruce gave some speech about the importance of giving back to the community. Jason knew that none of these people cared, but donating to a Wayne cause would put your name out there. This was all publicity. He’ll give Bruce at least one thing: he knew how to manipulate the rich into helping people.

Jason had stared at you for a moment, taking in your soft features and questioning look. You shimmied your shoulders every so often in a way that made Jason think you were uncomfortable, but then you would settle down again, watching him in wait with a faint smile.

“I don’t usually come to these things.” He finally answered, still staring at you, “Nobody would want me up there anyway.” He didn’t mean to sound like such a drag, but that was the way he felt. That Bruce usually invited him to these events out of obligation, not necessarily because he was wanted. You must catch his tone because your next words are a soft coo.

“That’s too bad for them. Now I get to keep you with me instead.” The pout you give him certainly makes him feel some type of way. He wishes he could just kiss it off you. Instead, he grabs two flutes off a tray as a server walks in front of you.

“Mimosa?” He offers, usually he wouldn’t drink. He hated the taste of champagne, but he needed something to get through the day, and the orange juice would hopefully drown out the flavor. You take the glass timidly, readjusting your grip every few seconds.

“How do you hold it?” Your confusion makes him want to laugh, along with your whole hand grip on the glass.

He remembers the first time he had snuck a glass of champagne at a gala when he was thirteen. It had been a few months after Bruce had taken him in, and he just wanted to try some so bad because that’s what all the fancy people were drinking. The wait staff was no competition for the Robin in training, but Bruce had caught him before he could bring his lips to the glass.

Surprisingly, at least to him at the time, fresh off the streets, Bruce didn’t scold him. He hadn’t even taken the glass away from him as he gently coaxed Jason into a side room, out of the eye line of others. It was there that Bruce had squatted down and taught Jason how to hold a champagne glass the proper way.

“I don’t want you drinking now, but when you're old enough, you’ll need to know how to hold it.” Bruce had said. At the time, it had been startling for Jason, the implication that Bruce was going to keep him until he was well into adulthood, that Bruce didn't want to be just a temporary guardian for him.

Bruce had let him have a sip, just one, and Jason had happily relinquished the glass over to Bruce, not wanting to drink anymore of it.

The sudden memory is jarring, enough that he almost steps into someone behind him, had you not stopped him with a hand on his arm. You look worried, that cute scrunch you get between your brows, prominent.

“Are you-” Jason stops your question to readjust your handhold on the glass. He didn’t want to talk about it, the memory. It was rare that he thought back to his time as Robin with fondness. Usually, believing the narrative he had told himself. That he was never enough, not the golden child, Dick Grayson, and easily replaced by the better copy of him, Tim Drake. No, He didn’t want to talk about it with you.

****

You're startled by Jason’s swaying, an unsteadiness to him that concerns you, but he brushes you off before you can ask. You probably would have ribbed him for it, told him to let you help, had you not gotten distracted.

Distracted by the way his entire hand covers yours over the glass, moving your hand to hold the glass properly. Yes, very distracted. You knew Jason’s hands were larger than yours. Jason was larger than you in every way. Taller and muscular, your brick wall of a friend. This was not new information.

However, staring at his hand now made you think of early that morning, the press of it against the bare expanse of your lower back, how he had easily pressed you down and kept you there. Your mind drifts closer to the scene in front of you, his hand curled around yours, and you get a flash of his hands pinning your own to a mattress.

You blink away the thought as the warmth of his hand leaves yours. You meet his eye before dropping your gaze with heat on your cheeks. You can't believe you're thinking about something like that in such a public place. Your eyes settle on the glass, your fingers now towards the bottom, index and thumb pinching the stem, your other three fingers resting. You pop out your pinkie and tilt your glass to Jason.

“Cheers?” you say as you wiggle your pinkie. He chuckles at your antics, shaking his head.

“It's not tea, put your pinkie down.” Despite his words, he knocks his glass against yours in a pleasant clink. Jason takes a large gulp like his life depends. Your lip quirks into a small smile. Sometimes he was so odd.

You take a small sip and your face twinges, nose scrunching a little in disgust. You don’t know what it was with rich people, but that was some weird-tasting orange juice.

“Don’t like the taste?” Jason asks you, eyes on the crowd like he’s searching, you assume for the rest of his family, the opening activities having ended.

“It’s okay,” you pause to take another sip, “I’ve had better.” You say which you think makes you sound full of yourself, but you really had better orange juice than this, freshly squeezed at the farmers market.

“Sorry,” you add on, feeling guilty for already dissing on the food being served.

Jason snorts at your comment, taking another long drink, “Don’t be. Keep up the attitude, you might just blend in with these people.”

“I don’t think that’s something I want,” you say in mild disgust. Just in the short ten minutes since the event began, you had gotten enough dirty glances to know that this is not your type of event nor your type of people.

“Good. Keep that in mind, sweetheart.” Jason mutters, unexpectedly stepping into your space and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You don’t fight the urge to smile at his affection.

“There you two are! What’re you hiding for?”

It takes you a second of scanning the crowd to find the bouncy blonde hair. You glance around where you and Jason stand. It’s hardly what you would call hiding, very much still in the open forum. You take a longer sip of your drink, the flavor slowly becoming less and less obvious. Jason watches you as you do so.

“We could still run. She hasn’t made it to us.” He whispers the words into your ear and it has you giggling into his shoulder.

“She already saw us, it's too late for that.” As the last word leaves your lips, Steph hops in front of you two. Following behind her is a young, dark-skinned boy. He has a mirth to his eyes that makes you feel like he’s ready to tease anyone in his current vicinity, but he seems set on Jason.

“Look who finally showed up. Suddenly remembered you had family, or is this more about the pretty lady I’ve all about from a few birds?” the young man teases. You were right about him having his eyes set on Jason.

“Take it easy, Daisy Dukes, just be happy I'm here,” Jason responds, and it has you spitting your juice back into your glass to laugh. You're quick to cover your mouth with your hand, a flush of embarrassment running through you. The three Waynes you stand with all smile at you, which makes it worse.

“Sorry,” you mumble, pressing the side of your face to Jason’s shoulder where you had giggled into earlier. Jason’s arm comes around your shoulder, and the warm expanse of his hand settles on your bare shoulder, thumb stroking soothingly.

“It’s okay,” He waves you off, “You must be the girl I’ve heard so much about. I’m Duke.”

You shake his hand and offer your name up, “and Daisy Dukes, I get it now. Not in reference to the short.”

“Oh, you thought-“ Steph cuts off her own statement, falling into a state of laughter, Duke close behind. It draws the attention of some of the brunch goers, a spare glance of disdain.

Just as their laughter starts slow, Duke adds, “I think I could rock them, I’ve got the perfect legs for it.” It has Steph cracking up again, and you join her. Even Jason lets a quiet chuckle leave his lips.

“He dines to laugh with his estranged family,” Duke gasps. You can tell it’s a playful rib at Jason, Duke's tone layered in teasing, but it makes Jason grumble.

“You hungry? I know we didn’t eat breakfast.” He questions you quietly, ignoring the two gigglers in front of you.

“Yeah, I could eat.”

“Should eat.”

“Yeah, whatever.” You wave off his accusatory tone. He smirks at you and takes your now-empty glass to swap it for a full one. The ease with which he exchanges the glass on the moving trays has you shifting just slightly. If someone were to ask, you’d say it was from standing for so long. That would be a lie.

“Will you be okay if I leave you with these two hooligans?” He spares a glance where they’ve settled, now seemingly picking fun at a woman's hat.

“Yeah, you won't be gone long, right?” You're worried a little to be left with Jason’s family, but Steph was there, and she was someone you were very familiar with. He nods at your question.

“Bring me food then,” You playfully demand. Jason cracks a smile at you and presses a longer-than-necessary kiss to your temple. He leaves you there, and you watch him easily sneak through the crowd.

The moment he’s gone, Steph asks you a question, something about how many fruits you can put on a hat before it becomes a fruit basket. You fall into an easy conversation with her and Duke. Tim comes by briefly to say hi before he’s dragged away by “Vultures” trying to make a deal with Wayne Enterprise (according to Steph). Soon, Cass greets you, but only to take Steph to show her the boy they had apparently been spying on at these events, and you're left alone with Duke. Evidently, he’s been waiting for a spare moment because the girls are hardly out of sight when he questions you.

“You’re just pulling everyone’s leg, right?” The question throws you off.

“What do you mean?” Your tone is worried, worried that you’ve made a bad impression, and you're about to be accused of trying to marry someone for money.

“You and Jason. It’s a big prank on the family that you're not dating.” Duke says the words with such surety that for a brief moment, you almost nod and agree with him. You shake your head.

“No, Jason and I aren’t dating. We’re just friends.” You take another sip of the fancy orange juice.

“You’re gotta be shitting. There’s no way you two aren’t a thing.” You give him a reprimanding look for his language, which he pays no mind to.

“We just aren’t,” you pause for a moment, “Why do you think we're dating?”

Duke doesn’t hesitate, “Because you're obviously in love with each other.”

You glance down at your glass, swirling the drink around. Obviously? Was your affection that apparent? Wait, with each other?

“What do you mean by each other? You think Jason’s in love with-“

“Thomas, I wish to speak Jason's acquaintance in private.” You jump at the sound of Damian, who suddenly materializes beside Duke. Duke just rolls his eyes.

“Whatever,” He points a finger gun at you, “Yes, I do think that by the way.” He answers your second question before wandering off, and you're stuck with a child. You use the term child loosely because you think Damian is at the awkward pre-tween age. He gestures to a table, and you silently follow him and sit. You shift slightly, fighting with the halted straps, trying to ease the ache that had started to grow on your neck from it.

Once you settle, suddenly more aware of Damian’s stare, you feel like you’ve sat yourself a in a job interview. You try to smile, but his features don’t change. You’ve never felt so judged by a kid before. Of all of Jason’s siblings, Damian’s the only one you know anything about. Time to find some middle ground.

“So, Jason tells me you like animals?” you offer the statement in hesitation. Damian, surprisingly, seems shocked by your sentiment but schools his features quickly.

“Todd told you this?” Damian asks. You think there is an inkling of curious want in his voice. You remind yourself that Jason is Damian’s big brother. A big brother who doesn’t like to hang out at home. You're sure it can be hard, at such a young age, to be sure your sibling loves you if they're never around.

“I’ll share a secret with you, Damian.” He leans forward at the proffered secrecy, “You’re the only sibling Jason has told me anything about.” Damian seems pleased to hear the information, a grin works its way across his lips.

“Good, I am the best of us. You’ve already met Titus. Would you like to meet Jerry?” He asks, standing from his seat. Titus was the sweet great dane you had met earlier. Like any big dog, he thought he was a lap dog, which was fine with you. You hadn’t been aware of the dog's existence prior to meeting him, so you assume that Jerry is another dog. You easily follow Damian through the crowd and then out of it and onto a path leading away from the brunch.

****

“Oh. He’s a turkey.” To say you had been confused when Damian led you to a barn is an understatement. Your confusion grew when he introduced you to Jerry, who was not, in fact, a dog, but a turkey.

“Yes, what else would he be?” he doesn’t wait for your answer before moving more into the barn. You stare at Jerry, and he stares back before giving a gobble. You shake your head before following Damian.

“And this Batcow.”

MOOOOO!

You jump at the noise, startled by the appearance of a cow on the Wayne property.

“Batcow?” You ask incredulously. The cow takes a tentative step forward and Damian happily pets her, offering her an apple he must have snuck from the brunch.

“Yes. Batcow. She has a mask.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but still does a half outline of said mask with his finger. You take a step forward, and she snuffles at your hand in interest.

“Sorry, I don’t have anything for you, girl.” The cow seems unbothered by that fact and still lets you pet her.

“While I do enjoy introducing my animals, that is the purpose of my bringing you here.” Damian starts, and you wonder, briefly, if you should be worried before you decide otherwise. He was just a kid.

“Then why did you bring me out here?” You focus on petting the cow, her fur soft and obviously well cared for.

“You and Todd are courting. I do not often care for the pursuits of my siblings. Todd, however, is an exception to that.”

“Why?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“Jason was the first ahki I ever had before I met the rest of the family.” You're startled by the momentary language change, by the deep sincerity in his voice, and by the way he actually called him Jason instead of Todd. Damian gave such an air of aloofness, you assume he doesn’t have many moments like this.

“What do you mean?” you ask quietly, sparing a glance at the boy. He seems focused, a thoughtful expression on his features.

“He was with my mother when I was a baby,” he says slowly, like he might say the wrong thing, “before father knew about me.”

Your brows furrow. What strange family dynamic.

“It is a story for another time.” He continues, “The reason I brought you out here was to express my wishes regarding your relationship.” He straightens up.

“Ooh-kay, and what would those be?” You have no reason to deny the relationship bit because apparently the whole family thought you and Jason were together already.

“That you continue to bring him to the manor and ensure that he stays longer than family dinner.” He offers it like you're making some big trade deal, and you're pleased to find you were right about him wanting to spend time with Jason.

“I think I can manage that.” You say with a smile. You’ve found in the more recent months that it’s easy for you to convince Jason to do things. Spending time with his family might be harder, but you think you can manage.

“and continue to take care of himself. Todd has an issue of remembering that he is alive again and requires normal human care.” Your smile drops from his statement. Alive again?

“What?” You ask, hands pausing where their petting to meet Damian’s eye. He has a moment of panic before his features settle again. It startles you how much it reminds you of Jason, when he seemed like he told you more than he intended, always quick to hide the expression. You wonder if it’s a family thing.

“It's nothing,” He waves you off, “He trusts you. I’m sure you do not know, but He does not trust anyone, not father and not us. Perhaps that Harper idiot and all his delinquent friends, but he does not trust people in Gotham. He trusts you.” Damian says with a steady stare at you, and a heavy silence overtakes you both as you take in his words.

This was not a conversation you were expecting to have today. You had maybe anticipated some sort of shovel talk, especially if the whole family believed you two were already dating, but this was much heavier. It made you feel dizzy. You're thankful for the docile cow between you two for giving you something to steady yourself on.

Part of the conversation hurts because you know Jason trusts you and you trust him. You also know that you're both lying to each other about something. Yours regarding the reasons you came to Gotham and your relationship with Red Hood, and about that night in the warhouse. Okay, you were lying about a couple of somethings. 

“I’ll do my best. I care about him a lot.”

“I am aware. He cares deeply about you as well. I have never seen him so affectionate with someone and openly so. He has been calmer as well. Less prone to violent outbursts. You are good for him.”

“Oh,” you don’t know what else to say (Actually, you want to ask about the alive again thing and violent outburst thing, but this conversation seems too sentimental for that), “Thank you, Damian.”

He gives you a curt nod before stepping away from Batcow. The cow moos in indignation.

“I shall return later. Until then, control yourself, Batcow.” The cow moos again at his comment before dipping her head to eat some hay, “We should return to the festivities. I am certain Todd will have a stroke if he cannot find you.”

You suddenly remember that the only reason you had been parted from Jason was so he could get food for you.

“Oh, shit,” you smack a hand over you mouth, “shoot, I mean, shoot. Don’t use that word.” Your use of language and attempt to cover up makes Damian smile playfully. He seems more like a child.

“I see Todd is rubbing off on you as well.” He notes as you two walk out of the barn and on the path back to the brunch.

“I don’t know that bad language is a Jason thing.” You say, your sure things about Jason have bled into who you are, but you don’t think that’s it.

“Then perhaps the saying it around a child.” He says, and you consider the notion.

“Yeah, okay, that might be a Jason.” You say with a laugh. You and Damian fall into a comfortable silence as you walk back to the brunch. You still feel dizzy, and you're starting to think it has nothing to do with the conversation. Maybe Jason was right, you needed to eat.

You two barely make it to the brunch before Damian is whisked away by Steph. She sets another mimosa glass in your hand with promises of finding you later. You're suddenly alone in the crowd, but you don’t feel as anxious as you did earlier. You sip on the offered mimosa, hoping to hold your stomach over with the orange juice til you can find Jason.

Additional Note: I don’t know if anyone’s notices but I am a firm believer in Jason and Damian knowing each other at the league. I know Damian’s close with Dick but I think him Jason get along well because they do have shared experiences from the league. I think it’s such a fun concept. Anyway, next chapter does have Selina, Bruce, and Dick. I’m still writing the scene with Dick but I have waiting for this moment for weeks, probably months and I hope it works the way I want it too. Thank you guys for being so so lovely, you keep my serotonin up with your words. As always I love to hear people’s thoughts! So talk to me, baby!

Tag List: @little-miss-naill, @nikilolo787, @joonunivrs, @uzxotic, @qardasngan, @stormz369,  @g4bbi3xx, @iwatobiswimbros, @the-lonely-flute, @elz-xo, @gone-batty-fics, @princessesgarden, @notfckincreative, @love-theangel, @feyres-fireheart, @penguimlover23, @herodedicatedblog, @dearghostling, @automaticplant, @alma-ru3, @13fresh, @anuttellaa, @nekotaetae, @redsakura101, @sleepy-head1

[honestlyidkyimhere]

I can’t imagine him being a great boyfriend but he definitely still cares lol. Some Dally fans are allergic to happiness 💀

Dallas winston fans need to learn how to be happy because why is every single fanfic/blurb request like “you just got jumped by the socs and as you’re bleeding out you come to buck’s to visit your boyfriend dally only to walk in on him cheating on you with 3 different girls, when you confront him he laughs in your face”

and then it’s like “here’s your request, hope you enjoy!!!”😭😭😭😭😭

[doomhands-jr]

The Devil's Advocate - Chapter 6

Pairing: Delinquent!Noah Sebastian X Pastor's Daughter!Reader

Summary: Noah is a delinquent with a lot of anger at the church. You're a pastor's daughter plagued by moral perfectionism, charged with overseeing the community service he's been sentenced to complete. You've never encountered true temptation before. How will you fare up against Noah, who not only isn't bound by the same rules of purity as you, but actively scoffs at them?

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Smut/angst

Masterlist

Banner by @flowerynerds

___________________________

“Okay,” said Ruffilo, spinning a chair backwards at the foot of Noah’s bed and straddling it. He crossed his arms over the back of it and stared straight into Noah’s soul. “So talk to me.” 

Noah didn’t feel like talking. In fact, it was the last thing he wanted to do, but keeping everything bottled up hadn’t fared too well for him. After what happened the other night (he grimaced, not wanting to think about it), he felt like he owed it to himself to talk about it. Not doing so would likely end up in him engaging in even more self-destructive behavior. 

Noah leaned back  on his bed, head hitting the  wall with a soft thunk, arms draped over his bent knees, and closed his eyes. 

“I may have done something stupid,” he sighed. 

Nick chuckled softly. “I’ve seen you do a lot of stupid things, Noah. I’m not here to judge.” 

Nick’s voice held a practiced, precise balance between tenderness and concern. Noah had heard it many times over the years—Nick’s had always been the voice of reason, pulling him back down to earth when his head got stuck in the clouds (which happened a lot in Noah’s case). It was both comforting and, at times, intimidating—especially when it contained sharp truths that Noah wasn’t ready to hear. He suspected he was in store for some of those. 

“I may have…,” he trailed off, searching his brain for a combination of words he could accept. “…become attached…to someone.” 

He opened his eyes to note Nick’s reaction, but there was none. His face was neutral. Stoic. Kind, even. 

“Do you want to tell me who?” 

Noah shook his head. Nick tucked his teeth between his lips—a gentle sign that let Noah know he disagreed with the choice, but wasn’t going to press the matter. 

“Okay... So why is this an issue?” Nick shrugged.

Noah bit his lip, eyes flicking out his window when Nick’s sincerity became too much for him. He swallowed thickly. 

“I don’t think I’m good for her.” 

Nick’s eyebrows pinched together and Noah couldn’t handle the sympathy. It felt too much like pity. He chewed the inside of his cheek to distract himself. 

“Why would you think that?” 

Noah’s heart pounded inside his chest as he fought the urge to bail from the conversation. Three minutes in, and it was already bringing up repressed emotions Noah had no desire to feel. 

He breathed deep through his nose to steady himself, digging the heels of his palms into his thighs. How was he supposed to describe the situation? He wasn’t even sure why he felt the way he did, he just had a gut instinct. 

“So she’s like, religious or whatever,” he began. 

“Hold on,” Nick held up a hand to pause, his demeanor still unbothered. “Is this the pastor’s daughter Folio was talking about?” he asked, and Noah’s heart jumped into his throat. “Not a judgment, just a question,” he followed up. 

Noah hadn’t realized just how tense he’d become and forced his shoulders to relax. Though Nick was the least judgmental person he knew, he still couldn’t help but feel like he was on trial. 

Noah nodded reluctantly. “How much did he tell you?” 

“Not much,” Nick said with a shrug. “Just that you guys had a bet going.” 

Noah scowled. “I never agreed to be part of that.” 

Nick, calm as ever, simply blinked back. “I didn’t think you would.” His eyes scanned over Noah’s frame, likely noticing how on-edge his friend was. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. 

Noah puffed out a breath, wrapping his arms around his knees to quell the tension in his diaphragm. He didn’t know why he was so nervous to talk about this—Ruffilo clearly cared about him and had never, ever judged him. Perhaps Noah judged himself so harshly that he couldn’t imagine anyone else not. 

“No,” he said, words finally flowing from him like a pressure release valve had been flipped. 

“I’m not okay. I don’t know what to do. I can’t stop thinking about this girl, but I feel like I’m so fucked up and I just know I’m gonna end up hurting her somehow. And I think she likes me too, which makes it that much harder to stay away.” 

He pressed his palms into his eyes to equalize the pressure that had built up behind them. 

“I’m a fucking mess,” he continued fidgeting with a rip in his jeans. “I don’t have my shit together at all , and eventually she’s going to see how pathetic I am and leave me for someone better.” 

“Whoa,” said Nick, face remaining neutral, but voice taking a more assertive tone. “Hold on. You’re making a lot of wild assumptions here.” 

“Am I though? She’s a virgin and I can’t go a week without sticking my dick in someone.” 

Nick brought his finger up to his chin, eyes glazing over as he thought. “That does seem like an obstacle. Does she know this about you?” 

Noah paused his fidgeting. “I don’t know,” he confessed. “I think she sort-of knows? But I don’t think she realizes how bad it is.”

“Is bad the right word?” Nick asked. Noah leaned his head back, tapping the crown of it against the wall several times over. 

“You’re missing the point.” 

“I don’t think I am,” said Nick, folding his arms in front of him. “I think you’re catastrophizing because you’re scared.” 

“Dude!” said Noah, throwing his hands in the air. “Can you not?!” 

Nick snickered into his hand, knowing he had finally gotten to the bottom of what had been eating at Noah. 

“Sorry, yes,” said Nick, struggling to keep his face straight. “You are alone in your problems. Nobody has ever dealt with anything like this before and you suffer uniquely .” 

Noah huffed, dropping his arms.. “Thank you. Finally someone gets it.” 

Nick smiled at his friend, then gave him a look that brought the conversation back to a serious note. “Do you really think you’re incapable of change?”

Noah sucked on his teeth. “I think that’s what I’m scared of.” 

Nick rocked forward on his chair, balancing it on its two hind legs. “Are you willing to try?” 

Noah rubbed his hand up and down his calf, “I don’t know.” 

The chair Nick was on slammed back down on all four legs, creating a thud that echoed through the room. “I don’t know what to tell you man,” Nick said, standing up and stretching. “You either want the girl or you don’t.” 

“Thanks,” Noah said flatly. “That really helps.” 

Nick sat down beside Noah on the bed, pressing his shoulder into Noah’s.

“You’ll figure it out,” he said. “You have a lot of great qualities. There’s a reason she’s drawn to you. Personally, I’m really happy to call you my friend. And if it worries you that much, you can always try being honest with her about your concerns.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Noah said, trying to diffuse the sincerity with humor. He’d always had a difficult time accepting genuine affection, and Nick had a habit of giving it when it was most needed. 

“You might find,” he continued, “that she, like the rest of us, accepts you for who you are. Warts and all.” 

“It’s a lot of warts,” Noah said. 

Nick nodded in agreement. “It is a lot of warts.” 

For the first time since the beginning of their conversation, Noah cracked a smile. The pressure of Nick’s arm against his was comforting and he wanted to lean into it more, but he didn’t. He wasn’t ready to admit just how needy he was for affection. 

There was a time in Noah’s childhood where he’d expressed his needs. The need for reassurance. The need for affection. The need for love and kindness. Somewhere along the way though, he’d learned that his needs were a burden to his caregivers. Any time he asked, he was met with irritability and annoyance, and it wasn’t long before Noah received the message that his parents would only accept him if he didn’t ask for anything. 

He cut off the part of him that needed. The part that yearned. That part of him only brought about pain and rejection, so he treated it with disgust until it learned to never show its ugly face. Noah prided himself in his ability to be self-sufficient. And no, he never did end up earning the love he had wanted from his parents, but at least he didn’t get rejected by them as much. 

Now that he was older, he was starting to realize that being self-sufficient wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. He knew he had to soften, and he would…one day. It was just that right then, he had so much he was already struggling with. Adding another task on top of the pile was overwhelming. 

So he settled for begrudgingly allowing his needs to be met whenever his friends insisted. 

“Thanks, man,” he muttered, not enjoying the way it felt coming out, but knowing it needed to be said. 

“Anytime,” his friend said, nudging his elbow deeper into Noah. “I’m here if you need to talk.” 

Nick waited a beat before continuing. 

“For what it’s worth, I think you should go for it. It sounds like she’s good for you.” 

Noah didn’t respond, but knew Nick would never say anything he didn’t mean. Perhaps he couldn’t trust himself just yet, but he could trust Nick, and that was a start. 

_______

“Can I ask your opinion on something?” Noah whispered in your ear. He’d snuck up behind you and you just about jumped out of your skin.  “Don’t scare me like that,” you said, turning.. His face hovered just over yours, close enough you could almost count his eyelashes,  and you had to take a deep breath to keep from flushing. Noah hissed a laugh through his teeth, backing away to a more respectable distance. 

It was Saturday morning once again. The first snow had just fallen, and the three of you were freezing your asses off outside. The two men had finished shoveling the walkways, and were now pouring salt along the sidewalks. Nick was about six meters away, scooping salt out of the massive bucket resting on the steps leading up to the church.

“My bad,” said Noah, fighting back his laughter. 

“What did you want to ask?” 

“What’s your take on lust?” he said, looking over to make sure Nick couldn’t hear. 

You blinked up at him. Noah wasn’t bringing this topic up just for the fun of it. He had an agenda, you suspected. The angel on your shoulder screamed to walk away, but the devil on the other whispered for you to take the bait. 

You swallowed hard and chose the secret third option—stall. 

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” you said, breath coming out in a cloud of steam. Your nose had started to run. 

“Like, do you think it’s a sin?” he asked, leaning his weight on the handle of the shovel he still hadn’t put away. 

“Well, yeah,” you said. “You’re objectifying someone.” 

“How much of the sidewalk do they want us to do?” Nick called. He was almost to the end of the main walkway, but still had yet to touch the sidewalks in front of the church. 

“I think the whole thing,” you said, pointing to the sidewalks on either side. 

Nick scoffed. “So we’re supposed to spend the entire morning out here? I’m fucking freezing !” he said, wrapping his arms around himself for effect. 

“Do you need to borrow a jacket?” you asked. “We have some in the donation bins.” 

Nick’s face twisted into something sour. “No thanks.” 

You chuckled. “Then I can’t help you. Get back to work.” 

He groaned, throwing his head back and stomping off like a petulant child to spread his salt bucket farther down the sidewalk. 

“Absolute baby,” you muttered under your breath. It was the truth, but you had a soft spot in your heart for Nick’s antics. It made the day go by faster. 

“Even if they don’t know?” Noah asked, once Nick was out of earshot. 

“Know what?” you said, turning to face him. You noticed his ears poking out from under his hat. It was stupidly charming, especially now that the red of his earlobes matched the end of his nose, the membranes chilled by the cold. 

“That they’re being objectified?” His lisp was more prominent on the last word. He was making it difficult for you to ignore the crush you’d been unsuccessful in getting over—whether or not he knew. 

“I don’t know,” you said, placing your hands on your hips impatiently. “I’m not an expert. Shouldn’t you be working?” Up until that point, the conversation had played out like a game of tug-of-war, with both of you having an even grasp over its control, but you could feel your feet slipping. 

“My bad,” said Noah, leaning his shovel against the building and taking out a large scoop of salt. He sprinkled it over the sidewalk for the next ten yards and then immediately circled back to you. 

“So do you ever catch yourself lusting?” 

“Noah,” you scolded, rolling your eyes. “Why are you asking all these questions?” 

“Sorry, it’s just,” he said, sliding his foot back and forth in a large arc. His shoe glided over the salt on the sidewalk in front of him, producing a crunching, scraping sound. He sighed before sheepishly looking at you. “Full disclosure? I find myself lusting a lot.” 

“What a surprise,” you said flatly. He tilted his head and sucked on his teeth, unamused with your interjection. 

“And,” he continued, stressing the word the way a teacher would when interrupted. “I always thought it was harmless because the person I was lusting after wouldn’t find out, so victimless crime, right?” 

You raised an eyebrow. 

“I had a feeling you would say that,” he said, and you laughed. 

“Okay, well, if I may…who are you lusting after?” you asked. As soon as the question left your mouth, your chest tightened, not wanting to know the answer. If he said any other woman’s name, you’d lose it. 

“Not important,” he said. He suppressed a smile and you immediately knew he’d seen right through you. It wasn’t the affirmation from him you hoped you’d hear, but that was a long shot anyway. At least he hadn’t said someone else. 

You didn’t like the idea of him potentially talking to you about his troubles with women. You held out hope he could be hinting about his thoughts of you, given his actions on Halloween. The idea of him wanting you in that way was intoxicating. But you also knew he had a track record of being promiscuous, so really, it was anyone’s guess. 

“I think it’s probably not a good idea to be objectifying people like that,” you answered. “It could lead to treating them disrespectfully.” 

You said it, but you weren’t sure you meant it. A selfish part of you didn’t want to discourage him from thinking of you like that. 

“What if I could find a way to do both?” he asked. “Objectify and respect?” You found yourself struggling to look directly at him. 

You shrugged. “I’m not an expert. We both know I have a complicated relationship with sexuality, so I don’t even know if my opinion counts.”

“I think it counts,” he said. This time, you did chance a look over at him. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, shoulders raised to his ears as he looked at you. 

You wrinkled your nose, touched by his candor, but still unsure how you should respond. 

“If you feel like you can do both and it doesn’t feel wrong, then I’m not going to try to stop you,” you said. 

Noah pursed his lips. “That’s a very diplomatic answer.”��

“Can we go inside, please?” Nick whined, walking back up to the two of you. He’d salted about half the sidewalk. He bounced on his heels in a display of impatience. 

“Fine,” you sighed. “But find something productive to do. I think the displays need dusting.” 

Nick all but bounded up the walkway in glee, stopping to deliver a cold kiss on your cheek before he rushed inside. You stepped back startled at the sudden intrusion into your personal space. 

“Dude!” Noah scolded while you processed what had just happened. 

“Suck it, Noah!” Nick called back without looking, and you burst out laughing. You liked being able to witness little glimpses into their friendship dynamic. Nick was such an antagonist, but Noah always had a sharp tongue with a witty retort on the end of it. 

“Sorry about him,” said Noah. 

“Don’t be. I liked it,” you teased, twisting your body back and forth like a schoolgirl with a crush. 

Noah reared his head back, looking you up and down with a furrowed brow. “Whore,” he spat, and stalked off dramatically to grab more salt. 

Your laughter grew in intensity, now becoming a full-body affair. You shook your head at his sass, deciding to head into the church to make sure Nick was actually working. 

Noah didn’t talk to you for the rest of the session.  _________

Pausing his game, Noah looked at the clock. It was nearing ten. 

On any given Saturday night, he was usually either at a party at Jolly’s or at a bar. Rarely did he spend his Saturdays alone, but that night was different. The knowledge that he could be getting laid at the moment wasn’t lost on him. It gnawed at him incessantly, refusing to let him forget. 

He wished he could. There were much better things he could be doing with his time, like trying to figure out what he wanted to do with his life, for one. Or working on his music. Or self-improvement of any kind, but his body had needs, and they demanded his focus. 

Perhaps his dick anticipated being inside someone. Perhaps he’d Pavloved his body into expecting pussy at least once per week, always around the same time. He sighed, awareness being dragged down to his lap.

For the hundredth time, his thoughts drifted to you. You’d probably just gotten back from worship band practice and were getting ready to turn in early so you could be up for church tomorrow. 

He rolled his eyes at the thought of it, once again struck by just how different your lives were. God, could he even imagine himself being with you? Would you expect him to go to church as well? 

His nose wrinkled on his own accord, eyes landing on the silver ring he’d fished it out of the bucket in the supply closet the other week when you weren’t looking. It now sat next to his keyboard, taunting him. 

A purity ring. God , the concept was horrific. Why anyone would promise such nonsense was beyond him. Not to mention the fact that they basically forced it on you at such a young age. It made him sick. 

He was proud of you for not wanting to wear it anymore. It warmed his heart to see you freeing yourself from that burden. 

His stomach churned with guilt. He knew it was wrong for him to have it without you knowing, but in his defense, you’d asked him to take it before tossing it away. Had he known you were that serious about ridding yourself of it, he probably would have taken it when you offered. 

He had to admit, there was also something kind of hot about him having your purity ring. He felt like he’d taken a small piece of that precious virgin identity.  

His eyes drifted over to the phone sitting beside the ring. Your number was in there. He hadn’t used it yet, but he could if he wanted. 

Taking his phone in his hand, he unlocked it, pulling up your contact and opening a new message. You were right there on the other end of it. 

He shouldn’t. Talking to you right now was a bad idea, and he knew it. His whole goal was to be better for you. Not to further corrupt you. And there was no way he had the strength to behave himself if he spoke to you at this hour. Not when his body tingled with want and anticipation. 

No, staying away from you was the much better option. If he really wanted to talk to you, it could wait until morning. He’d rub one out and go to bed and wake up feeling like a better man. One who had actually resisted the temptations of the flesh, for once in his life. 

He sighed and locked his phone again.

He thought back to the conversation he’d had with you that morning. He knew it was a dangerous topic to bring up. He’d had ulterior motives from the get-go. But you’d answered all his questions with grace—not once giving into him the way so many would have. They way he knew he would have given in had it been reversed. 

If you’d been the one to bring up the topic of lust, he’d have found a way to bring the topic to the two of you fucking within minutes. He’d have slithered the idea of sex into that conversation immediately and found some way or another to get you thinking about it. 

If he did message you this late, you’d probably just turn him down anyway. Hell, you were probably already asleep. And if you did answer, you’d probably just have a casual, civil conversation with him. Or you’d want to talk religion again, which he was actually starting to like. 

Still, it was a bad idea. He was too needy. Maybe he should just watch some porn or something. He hadn’t done that in a while. 

Sighing, he opened his browser and typed the URLof his go-to site. Immediately, he was met with lewd stills. He tried to look, but it was all so gratuitous and intentionally overstimulating. There was no build up. Nothing left to imagination. Just explicit images of women bent over while men fucked them raw. And none of it sounded like anything he was remotely interested in. At least not at the moment. 

Swallowing back the acid that had crept into the back of his mouth, he closed the window, staring down at his boxers with pity. 

“I’m sorry, dude,” he muttered to his lap. “Looks like it’s just you and me tonight.” 

__________

Your heart squeezed, knowing what was about to happen. Inosuke held Daki’s head in triumph, having just beheaded the demon when something squelched, and Gyutaro’s curved blade pierced through the middle of his chest. Blood spurted out of the boar’s mask on his head, and Tanjiro cried out in anguish for his friend. 

You’d watched this episode a half-dozen times, and it still never ceased to tug at you. 

An ache was beginning to form in your lower back from sitting in the same position on your bed for too long. Grabbing a pillow, you flopped onto your belly and propped your elbows over it. 

You looked over at Stevie’s clock she’d hung above her bed. It was just after ten. You knew you’d have to get to bed soon or else you’d be exhausted for church tomorrow. But perhaps you could fit in one more episode before then…

Your phone pinged. Picking it up, your screen displayed a text from the last person you expected. 

Noah 10:08 PM : Okay, so I have more thoughts. 

You smiled to yourself. Noah was indeed persistent when he wanted answers. You quickly typed out a reply. 

You 10:08 PM : Go on…

Noah 10:09 PM : I agree that objectifying someone without their permission is bad. 

You 10:10 PM : Correct. 

Noah 10:10 PM : What if I had their permission? 

You snorted, diving into the pillow. The man just wouldn’t quit. 

You 10:12 PM : Are you alluding to porn? Because I don’t think that’s something God would be cool with. 

Noah 10:12 PM : No, not porn. I’m talking about getting someone’s permission. 

Noah: 10:12 PM : It would have to be above-board in that case, wouldn’t it? 

You 10:13 PM : I suppose…

If he was about to tell you he was going to ask for some other girl’s permission, you would chuck your phone at the wall. He didn’t, however. 

Noah 10:14 PM : What are you up to? 

You 10:15 PM : Watching Demon Slayer. You? 

Noah 10:15 PM : Fallout. Where are you? 

You 10:16 PM : In my dorm. Why? 

Noah 10:17 PM : What are you wearing? 

You laughed, finally seeing through his scheme. And honestly, you found it both sweet and endearing. So much so that you were tempted to give it to him. 

You snapped a picture of the oversized, threadbare racecar shirt you were wearing. You’d had it since you were a kid. You couldn’t remember how you got it, but it’s been in your possession since you could remember. By that point, it had collected an impressive set of stains and rips, but the years of wear and tear had softened it into the most comfortable shirt you owned. 

You hit send. 

You 10:21 PM : Sexy, right? 

Noah 10:21 PM : Nice shirt. 

Noah 10:22 PM : Almost as good as mine. 

The next message contained an image of him in a black shirt with the Lord of the Rings logo on it. He wore big, round glasses and his hair hung down messily over his shoulders. The photo was purposefully unflattering, with him looking down at the camera and distorting the shape of his lower face.  

You laughed again, the sound coming out loudly through your nose and you were glad your roommate was still visiting her parents and couldn’t hear you. 

You 10:23 PM: Hot. 

Noah 10:24 PM : Ikr? 

You 10:24 PM : Never been more turned on in my life. 

Sending that last text felt edgy. Exciting, even. Like you let slip a little bit of truth wrapped in the sarcasm, and you wondered if he could pick up on it. 

Noah 10:24 PM : Is that so? 

Got him. You swallowed thickly, wanting to lean into the flirtation without making your feelings too obvious. 

You 10:25 PM : What can I say? I have a thing for men with multiple chins. 

You watched as three dots appeared, then disappeared, and then reappeared several times before he finally replied. 

Noah 10:27 PM : Video chat? 

Your heart leapt into your throat, stomach buzzing with nerves. This wasn’t just taking things a step forward, but a whole leap—one with any number of potential outcomes and the unknown both scared and enticed you. 

Was this dangerous? Perhaps. But perhaps there was part of you that was ready for some danger, having played it far too safe for the last two decades…

You 10:28 PM : Sure. 

You steadied your breath while you waited for him to call you, drumming your fingers on your nightstand. What would you say? Would it be awkward? What if he tried to get you to do something you were uncomfortable with? Would he…

Your thoughts were cut off by the buzzing on your phone. You sat up, straightening your hair in the reflection of your phone screen before answering. 

It was a few seconds before Noah appeared on the screen. He sat at a desk, a blank wall behind him. On the left, you could see the head of his bed with a neon backlight. A candle flickered on a nightstand next to it. He wore his long hair pulled back in a bun—a few strands falling pleasingly in front of his face. 

“Hey,” he said, his too-big front teeth on display in charming smile and you immediately relaxed into the conversation, feeling a smile creeping onto your own face. 

“Hey.” 

“Sorry for interrupting your anime,” he said, voice coming out low, gravelly, and slightly muffled. “I was getting sick of gaming.” His lisp was even more prominent through the speakers on your phone, which served to further disarm you.

“No, it’s fine,” you said, shaking your head. “I’ve already seen all the episodes.” 

“Is Demon Slayer any good?” His voice echoed in his empty room. 

“One of my favorites,” you said. 

“Nice. I’ll have to check it out.” 

There was a lull in conversation you weren’t sure how to fill, and suddenly you felt self-conscious, fiddling with the hem of your shirt to give your hands something to do. Noah continued to stare at you, rocking side-to-side in his desk chair. 

“Is your roommate home?” he asked. 

“No, she goes home on the weekends.” 

“Nice,” he said. “Do you guys get along?” 

You nodded. “For the most part. She’s double-majoring though, so she’s usually in class or at the library. I don’t actually see her much.” 

“Does that get lonely?” 

“Not really,” you said, playing absentmindedly with a strand of your hair. “I kind of like all the alone time.” 

It was true. As much as you enjoyed Stevie as a person, you rarely saw her. She was even more focused on school than you, and that was saying something. 

Without thinking, you brought the strand of hair to your mouth, sucking on the ends. 

“I get that,” he said, smile growing softer. “I like my alone time.” 

“Do you get much of it, living with two other guys?” 

“If I go to the studio,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Nobody bothers me there. Though they usually don’t bother me if I’m in my room, either.” 

“What’s it like living with Nick?” you asked. 

Noah rolled his eyes. “Loud,” he said. “The man can turn anything into a drum set.” 

“Have I met your other roommate?” 

“Yeah, actually,” he said, fiddling with something on his desk. You met him at the party for like a minute. Ruffilo. He has long hair.” 

“ Everybody had long hair,” you said. He let out a soft laugh. 

“True. He’s the one that plays bass. Green eyes.” 

“Oh yeah,” you said, vague memory coming back slowly. “It’s a Saturday night. Why aren’t you out?” 

Noah shrugged. “I’m getting bored with the party scene to be honest. What about you? Don’t you have some sort of youth group function to attend?” 

“Actually, there was an event tonight,” you said. “I didn’t feel like going.” 

“You heathen ,” he said, the corner of his lip quirking up into a devious smirk. He said it as a compliment, and your stomach buzzed pleasantly at the praise. 

You curled your toes into your sheets while Noah took an opportunity to observe you. 

“That hair taste good?” he asked, nodding toward the screen.. 

“What? Oh!” you said, laughing softly to yourself. You’d been chewing on your hair the whole time without realizing. You dropped the strand; sure you’d probably given yourself some split ends. 

“I like you like this,” he said. It was the most genuine compliment he’d paid you, and your insides melted into pools of liquid organs. 

“Like what?” 

“Cozy. Natural. I like your bedhead.” 

You blushed, avoiding eye contact and choosing to stare at your bedspread until you processed the compliment. “Thanks.” 

Noah let out a low humming sound meant to fill silence, which you found extremely attractive. 

“So what do you got going on tonight?” you asked. You propped your phone up against a water bottle on your night stand and shifted so you were sitting cross-legged in front of the camera. Noah’s eyes ran over your legs before drifting back up to meet yours. 

“You’re looking at it,” he said, stretching his arms up over his head and exposing a sliver of stomach. You allowed yourself to stare, taking notice of the ink that decorated it, much like the rest of his body.  

“You have tattoos on your stomach too,” you observed. 

He dropped his arms and sighed into a bashful smile. “Yeah.” 

“Is there anywhere you don’t have tattoos?” you asked. 

“Yeah,” he said. 

“Where?” 

He looked down at his lap and then back up to you, smile devolving into a smirk. He topped it off with a wink. 

“Oh!” you said, head jerking back and hand coming up to cover your mouth when you finally pieced together what he meant. “I didn’t mean—Oh,” you said when you noticed his teasing smile.  “Just kidding,” he said, and you huffed at his idea of a joke. “I have tattoos on my dick too.” 

“What?!” 

He hissed out laugh. “You walked into that one.” 

“You’re such a jerk,” you said, looking away from the screen and biting your tongue until the blush seeped out of your cheeks. Kidding or not, he was deliberately bringing up his genitals and you were half-scandalized and half-aroused. 

“Come on, it was just a joke.” He said, rolling his eyes. Not that you noticed because you were still avoiding eye contact. “I don’t have tattoos on my dick.” 

“Well that’s a relief,” you said, finally looking back at him and letting your hand drop back into your lap. “It’d be excessive if you did.” 

Noah was certainly in a teasing mood. You liked it, but in the back of your mind, a nagging thought tugged at you and whispered of danger . 

“It is pierced though.” 

“Noah!” You sat there, mouth agape while Noah’s held his composure. You blinked at him a few times, before shaking your head. “You know what? I don’t even want to know.” 

“You sure?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “It’s quite impressive.” 

You held up a hand in refusal. “I’m good, thanks.” 

Noah grinned, clearly enjoying how flustered he was making you. 

“Wanna see it?” he asked. 

“What? No!” you said, feeling your neck grow warm. You half-hid your face in your hands, as if at any moment, it would show itself. You weren’t ready to see that much of him. You liked that he was talking about it, and you liked the flirtation, but that was too much too soon. 

“Liar,” he said. 

“It sounds like you want me to want to see it,” you said, calling his persistence to attention. He needed to be batted away, you could tell. 

He paused, not knowing what to say and then grinned, resuming his swaying. 

“In my defense,” he said. “Any guy would want that.” 

“Not any guy,” you replied. “Not all guys like women.” 

He rolled his eyes. “You know what I meant.” 

The conversation dissolved into the two of you grinning at each other, both enjoying each other’s company without needing to fill it with words. 

“You don’t actually have it pierced, do you?” you asked, finally, curiosity getting the better of you. 

“No,” he said, looking down sheepishly. “I used to, but it got infected and I had to take it out.” 

“Are you serious?” You asked in disbelief. He nodded. “How did it get infected?” 

“Because I was a disgusting teenager who didn’t clean his shit,” he said with a laugh.  

You frowned. “Gross.” 

“You’re telling me!” his hand came up to scrub over his face, and you were struck by just how long and beautiful his fingers were. 

The thought of them inside you flashed in your mind before you could catch it and your breathing picked up. You tried to squash the thought from taking over but ended up failing and the image morphed to him wrapping his long fingers around your wrists and pinning them above your head. 

You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the picture. It wouldn’t be productive to think of him that way. Plus, you’d just talked about how objectification wasn’t morally right. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked. 

“Nothing,” you said, a little too quickly and defensively. He smiled out of the corner of his mouth. 

“It was my dick, wasn’t it?” He said it flatly, as if he’d already caught you in the act. 

“Was not,” you said, though he was on the right track. 

“That’s so rude, lusting after me without my permission,” he teased. Sure, he was feigning offense, but his voice was just a bit lower now. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t you know that’s a sin?” 

“Okay, I’m hanging up,” you threatened, reaching for your phone.

“Wait!” he rushed. “Don’t go.” 

You lingered, waiting to see what he would come up with to convince you to stay. 

“I was just kidding,” he said. “Besides, you already have my permission.” 

“I don’t…,” you began, about to deny having pictured him like that, but thought better of it. Noah would have seen right through you. “When did you give me permission?” you asked. You thought you would have remembered a conversation like that. 

He rolled his head down to look at you from under his eyebrows, unamused. “It was implied.” 

“At what point was it implied?” you asked, brows crinkling together.

Noah rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically to emphasize his exasperation. “You know, you’re really going to have to learn how to pick up on subtle hints one of these days and stop making everyone spell it out for you.” 

“Or you could just be direct with what you mean.” You’d meant it as an off-hand remark, but when you looked at Noah, you realized it’d hit home with him. 

He opened his mouth, starting to say something but then shut it again, pursing his lips and humming. 

“Nobody’s ever asked me to do that.” 

“To be direct?” you said, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knees. You found it hard to believe. 

“Yeah,” he said. You searched his face to see if there was any hint as to what he was thinking. You found none. 

“So does everyone else just? What?” you said. “Try to read your mind?” 

“Honestly? Yeah, kind of. More or less,” he said with a shrug, and you had to scoot back on your bed to process. Did people truly pay that much attention to him? Hyperfocusing on his body language and trying to infer what he was thinking and feeling? 

“Doesn’t that get confusing?” you asked. “I feel like it could lead to a lot of mixed signals.” 

He tilted his head from side to side, stretching his neck and you heard the crackling sound emanating from the joints. The deep crunch sent shivers down your spine. 

“Yeah,” he said, lifting his shoulders and dropping them a couple times to shake out any tension. Finally, he stilled and looked back at the camera, placing an elbow on his desk and resting his chin in his palm. “But it’s scary to be direct with what you want, don’t you think?” 

“I suppose,” you said, thinking back to your interactions with Isaac and Noah. You hadn’t been direct with either of them, so you could understand where he was coming from. It was intimidating. 

But something told you that if you wanted to get anywhere, you had to start asking for what you wanted. And demanding the same of others. 

You asked him first. 

“What do you want, Noah?” 

His eyes flicked down to his desk, then back up to you. He held eye contact, brows narrowing, breathing deeply in and out and sucking on the inside of his cheek while he considered the question. Finally he sighed. 

“Are you sure you want the truth?” he asked, voice taking on a new, unfamiliar tone—one that rumbled in his chest and hinted at what was to come. 

“Go ahead.” 

He cocked his head to the side. “Right now, what I really want is to know if you’ve thought about me.” 

You inhaled a shuddering breath, core pulsing around nothing and skin flushing. 

You had asked the question, but you weren’t ready for him to be that direct. You’d expected him to do what he normally did and beat around the bush, hiding his true intentions behind humor and teasing. You didn’t think he’d actually put it out there in the open.  

“In what context?” you asked, just to be sure. And maybe also to bide some time.

His eyes, which had been resting lower on the screen, flicked up to the camera. “Don’t play coy. You know what context.” His voice was low and commanding, impatient with your feeble attempts to avoid answering. 

“Right,” you said, nodding. You swallowed thickly. Noah had laid down his armor, showing unexpected vulnerability like you had asked. It was your turn. 

“So do you?” he asked, brow raised. 

You waited a few moments, stomach twisting uncomfortably while you gathered the courage to answer. 

“Yes.” 

“How often?” he asked, eyes growing darker. 

You kept your breathing even as you answered. “A few times.” 

More than a few. You’d been imagining him in various scenarios since your conversation on the altar steps all those weeks ago. His hands holding you down by your wrists or wrapped around your throat. His long fingers in your mouth. In other places….

“Did you touch yourself?” he asked. 

You blinked, cheeks heating in both shame and desire. This was a big thing to ask you to admit, but deep down, a long-buried part of you wanted him to know. You were ready for him to know. 

“Yes.” 

“How?” he asked, never once breaking eye contact. His questions came at you rapidly, like he was trying to throw you off balance. 

You shook your head, recognizing you’d reached a limit. “That’s private,” you said, and he nodded, sucking air through his teeth while he figured out which angle to approach from next. 

“What do you want?” he asked. 

Good question. “I haven’t figured that out yet,” you said, unmoving. 

You were determined to continue the conversation, but it took all your focus to not shy away or lose your composure. Your heart beat rapidly, threatening to pound out of your chest. 

You knew you were ready to let go of some of this religious guilt that has been holding you back. You were ready to start exploring your sexuality, and you wanted it to be with Noah, but there was that tiny part in the back of your head that whispered what if. 

What if the church was right? What if I’m being led into temptation? What if I go to Hell? 

“Do you want me?” 

You shook your head, ridding yourself of the thoughts.  

“Yes.” You answered firmly, and you had a feeling Noah already knew. 

He tapped his fingers against his chin, pointer finger coming to rub at a dry flake of skin on his lower lip. Your eyes followed the movement, and he caught it. 

“You’re asking what I want?” he clarified. 

“Yes,” you said. 

He licked his lips, letting his teeth drag against the bottom one as he released it slowly. Squaring his shoulders, he exhaled heavily through his nostrils. 

“I want you to touch yourself.” 

Your heart hammered against your ribcage. 

“What? Like now?” you asked. The words came out choked, your throat dry. 

He nodded. “And I want you to think of me while you do it.” 

You paused, warmth pooling between your legs. You pressed your thighs together to relieve some of the pressure. His eyes flicked down to them, and you noticed just how exposed you suddenly felt. 

“One sec,” you said and heaved yourself off your bed and repositioned yourself at your desk, mirroring Noah’s posture. He frowned briefly when he realized he could no longer see all of you. 

“What do you think about” he asked again, “when you think about me?”

You were delving into new territory. You’d never confessed anything like this to anyone before, and the thought of opening up like this both thrilled and terrified you. But you couldn’t deny the affect his questions had on you.  

“Your fingers,” you said. 

The finger that had been rubbing at his lower lip paused. His eyes dropped down to it, and then back to the screen. His finger resumed, and you knew he was doing it on purpose. 

“Where?” he asked. His eyes were darker, voice gruffer. He held an intensity you’d only seen once back at his studio, right before he’d tried to kiss you. 

“In my mouth,” you said. Truthfully, you wanted his fingers in many places. In you. On you. Around you, but the sight of his index finger running across his lower lip captivated you and all you wanted was to wrap your lips around it. 

It might have been subconscious, the way his tongue briefly flicked over the pad of his finger. Then again, he may have been teasing you on purpose. He replaced his index finger with his thumb, dragging his lower lip down so you could see the bottom row of his teeth and you had to swallow the excess saliva that had pooled on your tongue. 

“If I was there, you’d have them wherever you wanted,” he said, and flames erupted between your thighs. An itch that demanded to be scratched. Tension that pleaded to be soothed. Without meaning to, your hand traveled below your desk to apply pressure to the throbbing area. 

“Are you doing it?” he asked, pulling at the skin of his lower lip. 

You didn’t have to ask what he was referring to. 

“Yeah.” 

The thumb that had been tugging at his lower lip released. His lip sprang back into place as his eyes widened. “Can I see?” 

You shook your head. “Not yet.” 

“Why not?” he asked. He stared at the screen, mouth slightly open and teeth pressing into the corner of his bottom lip. You desperately wanted to taste him. 

“It’s private,” you said, and he pouted, bobbing his head up and down in a sign of begrudging understanding. 

“I suppose I’ll allow that.” 

“Oh you’ll allow it?” you said, eyebrows lifting. You liked that he acted entitled to you. Something about it made it just a little bit harder for you to breathe, but he couldn’t know that. His ego would run away with the knowledge. 

“I’ll allow it,” he repeated low, devilish grin on his face, and oh you liked that. As much as you pretended to be annoyed, you needed him to possess you. 

You noticed his shoulder shifting on the screen. “Are you?”

He nodded. “For a while now,” he answered. 

“Since when?” 

“How long has this call been going on?” he asked. “About that long.” 

You barked out a laugh, amused but not surprised, considering how much he’d talked about his dick already. You watched his shoulder moving, imagining what was going on just below the end of your screen. 

“Have you ever thought of me while touching yourself?” you asked. 

“What do you think?” He said it as if the question itself had been an insult to his libido. 

Your insides rolled and swelled with pride. The hunger for him evolved into something more ravenous, and you pressed harder into yourself with your fingers, stroking yourself over the soft cotton of your shorts. A small whimper left you and you hoped he couldn’t hear it. 

“What do you think about?” you asked. 

“Hmmm,” he sighed, and you thought it was probably the most attractive sound you’d ever heard. You wanted to pull that sound out of him again. “Should I tell you? Would it be too much for your virgin ears?” 

You waited for him to be done teasing. When he realized you weren’t going to react, he relented. 

“Ever since you mentioned you thought about being tied up, I’ve been thinking about that.” 

“Yeah?” you asked, fingers picking up pace to match the shifting of his shoulder. You wanted him to tie you up. You wanted him to want to tie you up. 

“Yeah,” he breathed. His words came out differently. Not his normal voice, but something breathier and more needy. “I’d tie you down so you couldn’t move. Force your legs apart and bury my face in your pussy.” 

Shit. You gasped softly, cheeks burning under his gaze. The friction over the clothes wasn’t enough anymore and you had to dip your hands under your waistband, closing your eyes and melting into the sensation. 

“Are you picturing it,” he asked. 

“Yes,” you breathed. 

“Good. Imagine it’s me touching you.” 

You did exactly that, pulling your lip between your teeth and biting hard on it to give yourself something to fixate on. You could feel Noah’s eyes boring into you through the screen and you couldn’t look at him, too ashamed of your own desires. 

Noah didn’t allow that for long though. 

“Open your eyes,” he commanded. “Look at me while you fuck yourself.” 

Jesus. Your cheeks seared with the vulgarity of his commands, but you did your best to hold eye contact. His eyes were dark, irises blown wide with lust and jaw set hard in determination. 

His right shoulder tensed and shook with vigor and you’d have given anything to see what was happening under the desk.  

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, finally giving in and massaging your aching breasts with the hand that wasn’t currently inside you. 

This, you allowed Noah to witness. 

“Thinking about those tits in my mouth,” he said, voice low and gravelly. 

Your chest heated with the thought of it, breath coming out in pants. “Wish you could do that right now.” 

“There’s a lot I wish I could do right now.” The words were strained. Whiny. Needy, even and you needed to hear him make those sounds again. 

“Tell me,” you whimpered. “Please?” Your back arched off the chair and your eyes closed on their own accord. 

“Not unless you keep looking at me.” Your eyes snapped open. He stared at you intently, almost angrily in his efforts. “Keep those fucking eyes on me,” he ordered through gritted teeth. 

Hearing Noah speak to you like that was a new experience. He’d never taken that tone with you before and you couldn’t deny what it did to you. You grew wetter around your fingers, pace growing sloppy. 

“Need to see your tits.” 

You whined, wanting him to continue dictating his fantasies, but Noah wouldn’t budge. 

Slowly, you lifted your shirt high enough to uncover your breasts, tucking the hem between your teeth to keep it in place, but you kept your hand over your nipples to block his view. 

“Move the hand,” he commanded through gritted teeth. The veins in his neck began to pop. 

“Not until you tell me more,” you mumbled past the fabric.

Noah worked his jaw muscle while he stared down at your bare breasts, left shoulder tensed with how hard he was working himself. 

“Well right now, you’re cocky, so I wish I could wrap my hands around that throat until you drop the attitude.”

You flushed even more at his admission, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he affected you. You bit harder into the hem of your shirt, smiling past the fabric. “Fat chance.” 

He inhaled deeply through his nose, a muscle in his temple throbbing. You liked this—making him angry. Testing his patience. You wanted to see how he’d react if you pushed him more. 

“Watch your mouth,” he said. 

“Or what?” 

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?” he said, struggling to keep his voice even. “I had a feeling you were a brat.” You grinned, feeling seen. “Talk all you want, but you won’t be so cocky when I have you in person.” 

God , you wanted that. You wanted him there, in person. On top of you. Inside you. You wanted his mouth on yours, all tongue and teeth and desire. 

“You think so?” 

“Oh, I know so.” His voice came out more strained than ever. 

“Yeah? What would you do?” 

“Smack your ass, for one.” 

“Oh?” You taunted. “Daddy gonna give me a spanking?” 

Noah’s movements faltered and you worried you pushed him too far in your teasing. He looked at you, mouth opening and closing a few times, and you were about to apologize. Then he resumed his movements at nearly double his previous pace. 

“You can’t just say shit like that,” he said, breaking character into something much more genuinely Noah . The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed from beneath his desk. 

“What’d I do?” you asked, hand speeding up to match his movements.

“You know what you did.” 

Your mouth fell open. Your shirt fell, bunching over your collarbone. “Daddy? That’s what does it for you?” 

“That,” he said, “among other things. Uncover your nipples.”  

You did as you were told, allowing your breasts to fall naturally. You rocked your hips into your hands and Noah watched your tits bounce with the movement, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. 

“Are you serious?” you said. 

“Don’t kink shame me.” 

You curled your lip into a smirk, a deep need to test his patience again settling over you. 

“Why not… Daddy? Something wrong, Daddy? ” you teased, softening your voice and pitching it up to feign innocence. “Please tell me. I wanna be a good girl for you.” 

You could see a vein popping in Noah’s forehead. His face had grown an angry shade of red. “I know you’re trying to be a bitch right now,” he muttered through gritted teeth, “but this is actually working. Keep going.”

You pouted. “Well now I don’t wanna.” 

Another lie. You did want to, but you didn’t want to give in to him. 

Noah sighed and then chuckled. “I really fuckin’ hate you sometimes, do you know that?” 

You laughed, warmth spreading through your belly. Somehow his vitriol sent you further towards your end. “Good.” 

He made a gruff noise and grinned like the devil. 

You were about to respond, but your body chose that moment to betray you and instead offered up a whimper. 

“Noah, I think I’m close.” 

He groaned. “Can you hold out a little longer? I’m almost there.” 

“Hurry,” you whined, screwing your eyes shut tight. 

“Oh no,” he growled. “You look at me when you come.” 

Forcefully, you wrenched your eyes open, staring at him in want. He looked at you like a man starved, as if he could devour your entire body in one go. 

Your fingers squelched loudly inside you, and you were sure Noah could hear, but he continued to look at you, unblinking as he watched your face heat up with impending climax. 

“Fuck, I’m close,” he muttered. You keened, rubbing fast circles into your clit with one hand and pumping your others inside yourself, picturing him touching you. Thinking about just how deep inside you he could get with those long, beautiful fingers. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he hissed, brows pinching together and jaw set tight. “Ready?” 

You nodded, feeling your body hurling towards its climax. 

“Come,” he commanded. 

Your entire body tensed, tightened, and then pulsed, releasing waves of vibrations radiating out from your center. You let out a pathetic whimper, fighting against every fiber in your being to not close your eyes. 

Noah’s mouth dropped open. His body spasmed, pitching forward against his desk, vein in his temple throbbing and nostrils flaring. He let out a breathy whine and gritted his teeth, sucking air in through them. 

“Fuck!” he spat, body tense and rigid. And then he collapsed backward into the chair.  

Noah laid there, panting on the other side of the screen, mouth open, staring at you. He finally broke eye contact to drop his head back and close his eyes while he waited to catch his breath. His lips pressed together and his adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed the excess saliva that had collected in his mouth. 

“Good job,” he muttered to the air above him. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, still coming down from your own high. And you meant it. That was the first time you’d reached orgasm without being overcome or interrupted by guilt. 

“Don’t mention it.” 

You felt no guilt now. Only gratitude. It fell from your lips in a stream of thankyous, and when you finally took your eyes off the camera, tears began to leak out. Not in the way they had done in the past, when you were overcome with anxiety and shame. 

These were tears of joy. You’d managed to show up for your body, and it was grateful to you.

After several moments of basking in afterglow, you looked back over to the screen. Noah was in a catatonic state. His chest rose and fell with his breaths, but his eyes remained closed and he kept silent. 

“How you doing over there?” you asked and he brought a finger up to his mouth to shush you. 

“Give me a second.” 

You smiled, pulling your shirt back down over your chest and shaking out the cramp in your hand. You took your phone back in your hands, unscrewing the cap to the water bottle it had been propped up against and drank deeply. 

“Should I leave you to it, then?” you asked. 

“Thank you for that,” he whispered. “I needed it.” 

“Same here,” you said, settling back down into the bed and stretching out. “I feel like I could fall asleep right now.” 

“Should I let you?” he asked, eyes still closed. 

“You could sing me to sleep,” you suggested. 

“That’s third date shit,” he said, swallowing thickly once again. 

“Suit yourself,” you said with a shrug. “That was nice. I’d like to do it again sometime.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Yeah.” 

Recognizing he was in no state to make conversation anymore, you made the executive decision to end the call. 

“I’m gonna hit the hay,” you said. “Talk to you later?” 

“Yeah,” he said for the third time in a row. “Sounds good. Sleep tight. And thanks for that.” 

You chuckled lowly, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. The sharp angle of his nose as he breathed. The flutter of his eyelashes against his cheekbone. The furrow in his brow. You allowed yourself a few uninterrupted moments to indulge in the sheer beauty that was Noah in this state. 

“Goodnight,” you said. 

“Goodnight,” he whispered. 

You ended the call, the vision of his fucked-out face burned into your retinas. It was the only thing you thought of as you drifted off to sleep. Click to be added to the Taglist

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[vagueposting-femnb]

“Sinners” movie spoilers!!!

I’m going to be diving into two characters, what I’ve seen folks say about them & why I disagree.

On mobile, can’t do read more, sorry! Pls scroll if you don’t want spoilers!

Remmick:

Folks have been sayin “He’s the devil!” And the argument has been that he came because Sammie wasn’t following what his father preached, and “the devil can quote the scripture too!” As well as sayin “He’s purely manipulative and just saying whatever he thinks will get him in!” “He only wants Sammie!”

I firmly disagree.

Remmick was drawn because of Sam’s music, sure, but folks ain’t payin attention to WHY.

Remmick SAYS that he was THERE when the Christians invaded Ireland, forced their religion and took his father’s land, he also became a vampire leading him to outlive anyone who did make it through the Christian invasion. Remmick, as far as we know, is alone. His culture was erased, his family is dead, he has no one and nothing.

He comes across the Juke, sees folks he KNOWS been through similar shit that he went through, he’s seen this shit before. Hell, in the 1930s I believe the Irish were STILL dealin w BS in the US! Remmick sees their sense of community, their love for one another, he sees/senses Sam’s gift… and he sees folks who got it worse just bc of how they were born.

Remmick seems insulted when accused of being Klan, he’s playful with our main characters- “oh, is it because we’re… :(“ “we’ll walk real slow, in case you change your mind… *glances back*”

Plus… if he ONLY wanted Sammie, he coulda easily grabbed Mary when she walked out and used her as a bargaining chip. He didn’t.

I ain’t sayin he isn’t manipulative, or it was ALL truths.

I’m sayin that it’s entirely possibly that he is meant to be essentially “the road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

He wants a family, and he wants to see HIS family. He sees these ppl who have family, the ability to connect with their ancestors, but who are stuck with having to function within a fucked up society. He sees their desire for true freedom… which he might think he can provide, at the very least in a racially based context.

I think Remmick is meant to be a complicated character in a sense. I think he’s meant to be an example of how dangerous someone can be when they assume to know what’s best for other marginalized communities, and trying to push them into adhering to those beliefs. Personally, I think it’s entirely possible that he’s meant to be an example of the harms of colonization and even oppression in general, and how even victims of these things can “give in” and become what they hate if they’re not careful. If they don’t remain mindful, empathetic, and willing to learn.

Mary

(This is an important place to start I promise)

I’ve seen folks say that they wish she had been a “visibly black, but white passing” woman. This seems to stem from the perspective that “white passing” implies an ACTIVE effort to do so (straightening hair, lightening skin, nose job, etc) instead of simply something someone can be if they don’t happen to take after their more melanated parent/grandparent.

Perhaps it’s because I’ve grown up in a fairly diverse region/school system, but… that has never been what “white passing” truly meant to me. I’ve seen folks of a wide array of skintones, haircolors/textures, eye colors, who still claimed their non-whiteness proudly, and were nearly never chastised against it, at least not once we made it to high school and at least the majority of us seemed to realize that simply being paler than most black folks and having lighter colored eyes didn’t make you white. That’s just bein lightskinned.

The folks who WERE considered “white passing” were people who DIDNT need to do anything to be perceived as such at a quick glance. So, if Hailee had (prominently) green/blue eyes. Otherwise, if any girl at my school looked like her, pretty much everyone woulda been like “ooh girl what are you? Hispanic? No?? Got a lil somethin else in your family tree then, right??” So that’s perhaps why the “visibly black, but also white passing” complaint just… does not make sense to me.

PLUS… Mary is meant to be a naturally white passing woman.

This is IMPORTANT.

She is meant to be fully capable of marrying a rich white man, living amongst white folks, and not getting side eyed by them.

She also doesn’t seem to TRULY accept that she is, naturally, white passing to most folks, ESPECIALLY (and in this context, most IMPORTANTLY) white people, at least at times.

She talks absolutely RECKLESS to Stack at the train station. She loves him deeply, clearly, and yet seemingly doesn’t realize just how DANGEROUS it is for her to even speak to him casually, let alone how she was speaking to him, in broad daylight. Iirc it was said that another (minor) character had been snatched up, strung up, and gotten his genitalia cut off at that station for speaking to a white woman.

Mary later forces her presence at Juke with no thought as to how others there might feel, let alone the potential ramifications of her being connected to that place by (white) outsiders.

THEN, she convinces Stack to let her go talk to Remmick & co, BECAUSE “they’re more likely-“ to talk to her. Because she is white passing.

(Pause, bc I feel this needs to be said- I ain’t blaming her. OBVIOUSLY the vampires were gonna get folks one way or another. People gotta piss, gotta get home, etc. that being said…)

I think it was another intentional choice for Mary to have been the one to go out, to have been the first turned, to have been the “foot in the door” in a sense…

And that’s a shared point between her and Remmick- not necessarily truly realizing the harm one can cause by not being aware of one’s own privileges essentially.

Remmick and Mary both essentially lost their cultures and families. Both wanted those things back. Both risked/caused harm.

Now, I will say- Remmick is 100% a villain. He’s had hundreds of years. He’s seen shit. He’s lost shit. He’s had to carry that weight this whole time. I do think, at the very least, he knew he was causing IMMEDIATE harm & disregarding these folk’s potential desires in favor of his own longterm goals. Those descendants we saw in “I lied to you”? Many will never exist because of what happened that night. Even if they had ALL been turned & lived happy lives w each other, NONE of those descendants would exist.

Mary is more so a more… “direct to life” example of the harm it can cause an individual to be “cut off” from their community, to have to give up their culture, to be left feeling isolated bc they don’t truly fit in anywhere, as well as the harm people can cause when we focus more so on our own wants and needs vs the impact that could have on others.

Remove Remmick, & we could have still ended up with essentially the same exact ending…

Only, this time it’s the Klan members that show up. At the very least the “main family” would likely still have been there, cleaning up. Only this time, Mary might have been the sole survivor… forced to watch her family suffer at the hands of the Klan. At “best” she would have been spared (severe, visible, physical) harm, return to her husband a mysteriously broken woman. At worst…?

NOW, somethin else I’ve seen is folks online talkin about how Mary is proof that folks shouldn’t be with anyone outside of their race.

I disagree with that as well.

Yes, the movie could have ended essentially the same minus the vampires.

But that ain’t because of Mary. REGARDLESS of if Mary was there, the vampires would have found a way. Even without Mary AND without the vampires, the Klan STILL would have came! Mary had nothin to do with them. They were simply racist assholes who did this routinely. Stack’s comment about Juke being “a slaughterhouse”… bc the white folks would sell the shack to black folks, kill them the next day, rinse and repeat.

Mary is not some “bringer of evil.” Sammie wasn’t some “sinful being that brought the devil.”

They’re just hurt people, who wanted to be WITH THEIR LOVED ONES. Just people stuck in a dogshit society, in a dogshit situation, in a dogshit position where no one was gonna win.

Take away the vampires, Mary, and Sam… the fuckin Klan was STILL GOING TO SHOW UP. The twins likely still would have ended up with a decent turnout, plenty of community members there. Plenty of folks JUST wanting a night of freedom, community, fun. Who knows how many would have been gettin scraped off the floor after a few too many at the end of the night? Who knows how many would have stuck around to help clean up the place? Who knows how many might have, at best, only been getting into their cars by the time the Klan arrived?

I NEED people to stop and THINK.

The movie is deeper than “easy” lessons like “don’t mix with others” and “don’t stray from god/the god your preacher talks about.”

Sammie survived BECAUSE of his guitar, because of the SILVER from the guitar. God didn’t save him when he prayed. His father didn’t check on him when he showed up at mass beaten and bloody and traumatized. He left, and went on to become seemingly a successful artist.

Mary and Stack survived the night, and for decades more at least. They’re together, happily, no longer having to hide.

Smoke didn’t survive, but even if you don’t believe in an afterlife, his last moments were happy- he was with Annie and their baby. If you do believe in an afterlife, he is likely STILL with her and their baby, which is what THEY wanted… to be together, with their baby.

No, it’s not a happy ending… not a truly clean and happy ever after type ending at least.

But… the alternative?

Sam giving up his passion, which leads him to settling into a life he clearly ain’t really want if he made it to be old af and still performing.

Mary pretending to be fully white, going her whole life missing the person she TRULY loved, missing her family, having to pretend to be someone she isn’t as well?

The twins? Dead. Established that.

The ending, while not a clean “happily ever after!” Type of ending, still makes it obvious to anyone paying attention that you are better off following your heart.

Sure, we could pick apart “well Mary should have just left with Stack to begin with!” “Sam should have just left to do his own thing at the start!” But… then we wouldn’t have had the movie. We wouldn’t have had these complex characters. We wouldn’t have seen folks make bad decisions yet still in different ways manage to overcome the bad shit.

I feel like, for once, everything happened as it was meant to.

Even Grace hollerin for the vamps to come in, is in line with HER character. When Stack died she ain’t wanna stay, she wanted to dip. She was working at the “whites” store. She doesn’t feel the connection to these people like her husband does. Her welcoming the vamps was bc she didn’t value the folks around her like her husband might have. Smoke lost his brother. They’d all lost pretty much everyone at that point. AND YET, because Grace didn’t have as deep of a connection as her husband to the people, she prioritized her revenge over their LIVES.

Basically: it was an AMAZING movie. There was so much that went into it, into the characters, into the story. Everything felt intentional, everything had MORE to it than what you might have first thought on a surface level. The movie was a genuine work of art, and so much love went into everything.

If you’ve already seen it, but perhaps you were wrapped up in the moment and a lot of this seems new, didn’t occur to you, etc, I definitely encourage you to see it again if you’re able. Even if you still disagree… if you genuinely enjoyed the movie, ain’t any harm in enjoying it again and supporting the creators & actors!

[nondelphic]

"yes, so what if he's the devil, rick, at least the devil has a job. at least he's active in the community."

me defending the worst person you'll never meet (my antagonist)

[maisbookstore]

The Pastry Shop Girl- Prologue

Credit to the artist who created this picture, whoever you are, this is simply amazing!

Timeskip Miya Osamu x Reader; Timeskip Miya Atsumu x Reader (undecided)

Genre: fluff

Warning: grammar mistakes

Keywords: enemies to lovers, dare, challenge

A short description: Dear reader, take my hand as we dive into the drama of the year! Miya Osamu, a semi-popular restaurant owner decided to have a one-sided beef with the daughter of the neighbouring pastry shop, who happens to be a polyglot, hence attracting his potential foreign customers there. So what should he do now? Call the devil, aka Miya Atsumu, who lives for a good challenge. What would happen now?

A quote from the fanfiction:

"All the English words he had trouble pronouncing rolled out of her lips so naturally, other times he heard her talking in what seemed to be perfect German with all the “ch” spelled like a native. Her tone completely changed when she was talking in French, deepening her voice, pressing the “e” to come out sounding more “oui” if it made sense, and her Russian was just amazing. Osamu was in awe of her ability, but was also crazy mad. How dare this girl steal away his customers?

So the plan was born...

~ Miya Atsumu was someone who could like a good challenge occasionally. If someone said: “You can’t do it” the faux-blondette laughed in their face and said: “Watch me”. Hence trouble, like a good friend accompanied him, making his life spicier. Upon reading his brother’s text, his lips curled into a devilish smile for two reasons: Osamu asking for help? OSAMU? His ice cold brother, who has always been mr. “I know what I’m doing, stop interrupting me, ‘Tsumu”?"

The city of Osaka has always been bustling, even at night- especially then- when the people who have been working late could finally go home, but before travelling to their places they must stop and fill their stomach at the new restaurant that’s been advertised everywhere: Onigiri Miya. Started out as a small stand where the owner prepared various types of onigiri- it has become a restaurant; a very successful one actually, and now the place operates with more than ten employee plus Miya Osamu- the owner. Coming from Hyogo prefecture, the twin brother of Miya Atsumu- a famous volleyball player, currently playing for MSBY Black Jackals- adorned with his sweet and simple Kansai dialect, the man was a pleasant addition to the ever-so-lively city. However, under his calm demaneour, the black haired man was restless, like an active volcano, ready to erupt and melt everything that’s around him. The reason? Oh, where should we even begin?

After moving to Osaka, the younger twin had trouble finding a place where he could start his own business. He had studied, worked hard, and was not afraid to start anew, yet seemingly the people of the city seemed to be ignoring him. Which was natural, considering that Osaka was full of restaurants, why would people even choose his? That’s when inspiration, like a muse, kissed him on the lips and then success followed: first he moved to a more popular part of the city, where a lot of tourists might saunter. Of course, the idea was good, but then Osamu quickly realized that it was no wonder that he was put in class 1 during his highschool years, as he could hardly communicate with the foreigners. He could understand some Chinese, Korean and a very little English but was completely lost upon hearing French, German, Thai or Spanish. Fortunatelly, he got enrolled in various language classes, downloaded applications that were designed for Japanese people who had trouble understanding other languages, and after a few months Osamu at least could somewhat communicate with foreigners. But his success was overshadowed by the neighbouring pastry shop, owned by a family native to Osaka, and whose daughter happened to be a polyglot, driving Osamu’s potential customers there. The man was not enthusiastic to say the least.He sweated blood and tears, stayed up late, perfected his already perfect onigiri and lo and behold, comes a girl, barely in her early twenties, who’s not even a cook or a baker, yet she’s attracts people, like a bazaar monkey. (His words, not mine)

All the English words he had trouble pronouncing rolled out of her lips so naturally, other times he heard her talking in what seemed to be perfect German with all the “ch” spelled like a native. Her tone completely changed when she was talking in French, deepening her voice, pressing the “e” to come out sounding more “oui” if it made sense, and her Russian was just amazing. Osamu was in awe of her ability, but was also crazy mad. How dare this girl steal away his customers?

So the plan was born...

~

Miya Atsumu was someone who could like a good challenge occasionally. If someone said: “You can’t do it” the faux-blondette laughed in their face and said: “Watch me”. Hence trouble, like a good friend accompanied him, making his life spicier. Upon reading his brother’s text, his lips curled into a devilish smile for two reasons: Osamu asking for help? OSAMU? His ice cold brother, who has always been mr. “I know what I’m doing, stop interrupting me, ‘Tsumu”? The second reason being: he was single. Painfully so. Honestly, because of his job as a professional volleyball player, it was hard to find time to date, and truth be told, the blonde man was kind of lonely. He finally reached the “old” age of twenty nine, when one night hits did nothing to him. Many of his teammates has settled with a spouse and children, or at least pets of some sort. Atsumu however spent his nights binge-watching old action movies, that he has seen at least sixty times already. And counting.

Osamu’s text sat there on read, while he was wheezing out of his mind. Finally, after many hours he decided to reply: “Count me in”. Not even asking for more information about this girl, who he should “seduce”, nothing let it be a surprise. Is she ugly? Is she annoying? Who cares. There is a challenge around here and Miya Atsumu will not back away.

Like a fox planning his next move, excitement was filling his blood, the man was about to hunt, and his prey was a girl, who he hasn’t even met yet. It’s been months since the man felt such a thrill. Women were so easy to persuade if one throws in the “pro athlete” card. He could say the most blatant, utterly disgusting shit and they’d still pull their underwear off. It was boring, almost disappointing. He kind of expected the same reaction from the pastry shop polyglot girl, who got under his brother’s sleeves.

Oh how wrong he was!

[authenssion]

I don't think accusing him specifically of hating a character is the right move because he can always just deny it like this, the term I like to use for Anna and others is "symbolic hatred", the recent EVO interview just reminded me of this.

They talk about how there was some people on the dev team (not Harada specifically though I remember him saying he simply preferred Nina) playing favorites like with Nina and Anna or Devil Jin and Hwoarang.

Nina had the bigger move list and was prioritized in the design stage in Tekken 2 specifically, so Tekken 3 was Anna's chance to make a name for herself. I think Anna was a great addition to this game even if she was overshadowed heavily.

Now it's just a cherry on the top for an already well designed and consistently fleshed out character archetype. But this kind of iconography is important to a character's success, it helps them stand out and become memorable. Another clear example of this in my opinion would be Yoshimitsu.

So while Harada might not outright "hate" his own characters, favoritism was allowed to impact legacy, balance and even iconography. Oddly enough Anna was considered mid tier while Nina was considered low tier yet still Nina remains the staple.

I think most characters got a fair chance being revitalized in Tekken 5 from TTT1 but let's talk about some of the missing characters. Ancient Ogre (who was just Ogre back then) and True Ogre (who is just called Ogre in TTT2) were boss characters and I feel that they made Tekken 3 special so it made sense to not put them back in the mainline roster. They also relied too heavily on just copying other moves that kind of dampens their potential, at least they had that Ogre Within mode as a send off.

Armor King II didn't exist at the time of TTT1 so it was just Armor King I and King II. If you've been active in this community for a while you've probably seen King II's famous T3 P2 outfit being praised by now.

While Armor King I was missing from this game, they gave King an homage mask of Armor King's mask. To me, this is an example of favoritism coming into play. Let's take a look at Armor King I's TTT1 outfits.

Even if you prefer these outfits to what King got, it's clear that more creativity and effort was put into what King has got. He may have been higher tier than King in TTT1 but it's clear who was prioritized and who was the afterthought.

Not wanting to leave Armor King I out he is also killed like King I and replaced by someone taking his name, I hate this happening in fighting games but fine let's rip off Mortal Kombat with this story. Remember how Armor King I was higher tier than King II in TTT1? Well in Tekken 5 DR he is just... abysmal. You'll notice I said Tekken 5 DR and not just Tekken 5, that's because the replacement DIDN'T return in Tekken 5 (PS2) and was only available for the PS3/PSP versions of that game.

Debuting as a bonus character with Roger, Alex was an alternate for Roger. This legacy being continued in TTT1. I guess there was less novelty with a boxing lizard than a boxing kangaroo but Roger doesn't come back either instead Roger Jr is in the pouch of his mother... we still don't know her name by the way. Compared to the bears, it's clear there's some favoritism going on but they were all bottom tier in TTT1 anyway so not by that much.

Prototype Jack and Gun Jack were cut but I'm pretty sure they live on through Jack and it's really his whole thing to be upgraded. You could technically classify Jack-8 as a prototype Jack if it makes you feel better but definitely makes sense to not have 3 Jacks in a roster. Prototype Jack was the weakest of the 3 but I doubt it mattered and GUN Jack was the strongest but remember that this isn't just about tier placements.

Tiger, similar to Dr Bosconovitch was seemingly a bonus character so I guess it makes sense to treat him as such especially with Eddy soon getting another alternate who has much more effort put into them as a serious character. Still kind of weird to leave him behind but at least he got a stage later on. Him and Christie should've been unique, TTT2 barely separates them and Tiger is still treated like a bonus character he doesn't even have his own ending.

Devil is a similar boss situation and basically lives on through Kazuya/DVJ but Angel is a tricky situation. She's a bonus character but she's also a boss character but not to all characters fight her. She was an alternate to Devil but she's clearly a different person from Kazuya so should she live on through Kazuya/DVJ? Given the limitations of that game it's likely her arrival would've been less hype for the expectations of a boss character, better to save her for something else while letting Jinpachi have his moment. She doesn't get a distinct rework until TTT2 and honestly it makes sense to not bring her back until Tekken 9.

Unknown is the boss character of Tekken Tag Tournament 1 and if Jun didn't come back then why would she? I'd like to see her in Tekken 9 also since she's hyped as like the boss of the series if that makes sense. Plus like Angel she wasn't unique except she was a clone character that could switch characters mid match and she was reworked to be the better Jun move list in TTT2 unlike Angel who is the worst Mishima in Tekken Tag Tournament 2 by far.

They wanted to save Jun for lore purposes but I personally think it was a mistake to not bring her back for Tekken 4. It didn't really help Asuka either because she was pretty much held back after Tekken 5 and Tekken 8 isn't really doing much for either of them even with Jun's DLC story bonus. So much for that hype. I don't hold it against Asuka too much because they do make an effort to push her to be different and thankfully TTT2 and T8 makes them distinct enough.

But what they did to Jun, Michelle and Kunimitsu was simply unfair and shows blatant bias. Let's take a look at their tier placements shall we? Jun and Kunimitsu? Bottom tier. Now while this may not show explicit bias please couple it with the fact that they didn't return for T4 or T5... or T6 or T7. It was one thing to be missing from Tekken 3 but the resulting unpopularity of these two would damage their legacies in a way they would never fully recover from. What do I mean by this? Well Lee and Kazuya bounced back from Tekken 3 with fun, distinct and skillful move sets with depth, they didn't need the extra help too given that they were important characters that didn't need to be held for some hype moment.

I mentioned iconography before so let's talk about that. She was really different in TTT1, only sharing similarities with her top tier son but then Jin got reworked in T4 which makes Jun's exclusion even more insulting. Oh by the way yeah Jun had to compete with her top tier Mishima/Kazama hybrid protagonist son for popularity. Wait what? You're telling me she was unpopular? Incredible...

Yoshimitsu is a good example of a consistently fleshed out staple like Nina but he also has a plethora of iconic moves, but how does his counterpart measure up? She measures up extremely poorly in this department, they have such a huge disparity even back in Tekken 1 and 2 it was like this. It takes almost every aspect of that Nina and Anna dev feud and cranks it up to an extreme and almost spiteful area. Less iconography, bottom tier, only a sub boss reference tag wise and you're telling me this character didn't perform well? Time to hurt her legacy more by not bringing her back for Tekken 5. By the way, she wasn't a clone of Yoshimitsu in this game and even if she was look at her weapon, it's not like expanding her move list would automatically have her copying Yoshimitsu's flea stance or something. She could've been brought back, but wasn't with the help of dev favoritism.

Now what about Michelle? Well Michelle was considered mid tier, not bad right? Higher than Lee yet she still failed, what's up with that? Well she may have been alright but Julia takes the cake, she not only has a much more fleshed out move list from a casual perspective but was higher tier than Michelle. It doesn't help that Julia was in the last game taking a lot of inspiration from her mother. Her style, her outfit theme and even her story. Julia had her Mad Axes, what did TTT1 Michelle have to compete with that? At least Baek had a different design from Hwoarang (even though he came back I'll admit there's some bias there too against Baek). Wang might've been weaker but he definitely stood out more and him coming back in Tekken 5 shows that the devs liked him more (I think Harada even said once that he liked Wang). If you look up the word "overshadowed" in the dictionary you'd find Michelle Chang... if she wasn't too busy being overshadowed. Why would a new/uninterested player pick this character unless you just didn't want to learn another character with Julia? For the amazing 2B synergy? Even Kunimitsu, arguably one of the worst characters in TTT1, has more appeal than Michelle bias aside.

All 3 of them were in some way victims of something known as "power creep", which basically means that an alternative was so much stronger that it incentivized you to choose that option and thus ignore the other. Essentially power wise they were redundant but Michelle especially was overall a redundancy of Julia and this was cemented in TTT2/T7 for her. Jun and Kunimitsu had much more of a unique identity in TTT1 but it still wasn't enough. I'll be so mad if she ends up being a redundancy for Jaycee. Maybe it's more about neglect than favoritism but at the same time the favoritism begets neglect and it's clearly impacted character legacies. I'm not saying that characters being weaker in older games meant the devs didn't like them automatically but to make such legacy shattering decisions based on their performances feels like the full picture of the character isn't being taken into consideration. Think about how much more iconography these characters could've had if the devs liked them more.

[greg-montgomery]

so what??? so what if he’s the devil?? at least the devil has a job!! at least he’s active in the community!!!

[stargirlfeyre]

I’m sorry but when you have a face like this you can do whatever you want. So what if he’s the devil? At least the devil has a job. At least he’s active in the community!

Art🎨: Frostbite.studios on insta.