#something real nasty for those who partake <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[toxintouch]

Started out as an elaborate “draw me like one of your French girls” joke and spiraled outta control from there... @lu-dao-writes posted the same scenario in their Kinktober 2024 and they were kind enough to give me their blessing to post my take! Please check out their fics as well!  If this scenario in particular interests you, I rec you this post! :3

Further details below the cut so that the above the cut stays safe for anyone who is just scrolling through!

18+ Content MDNI || VERE x AIS x Reader

PROMPT/KINK(S): Dom!Vere, Dacryphilia (Tears)* + Cockwarming + Size Difference + Consensual Voyeurism. Power Play. (Some feral monsterfucking spice sprinkled v lightly on top.) [*original challenge prompt, randomizer used.]

OTHER INFO: “You” pronouns used for MC/Reader. Unspecified genitalia for both POV Character and Vere but Ais has a dick. Reader is the receiving partner in penetrative sex.

“Hmm, hold that pose,” Vere purrs.

Ais huffs a hot breath into your face as he freezes above you.  His brows furrow, mouth twisting into a determined grimace as he grits his teeth.  His forearms tense hard where they are resting on either side of you, fingers flexing against the silken sheets.

You can feel him pulsing inside of you.  A hot, insistent ache.

You try to relax, try to breathe through it but the lack of movement makes you hyper aware of every inch, the raw feeling of him stretching you open, the way your body twitches so sickly-sweet with the effort.  You inhale a slow, shaking breath, chest trembling, and shut your eyes in an attempt to block out some of the sensations—the clawing need gnawing at your core.

“Eyes open, darling,” Vere corrects you, tone somewhere firmly between scolding and teasing.  “And turn your face back towards Ais.  I’m trying to capture the moment .”  Your heart is pounding in your ears but you can hear Vere’s smooth, sly voice with perfect clarity.  Ais is an overwhelming force but Vere is a magnetic presence; no matter how caught up in each other you and Ais can get, Vere will always command attention without effort.

You turn your chin as requested, only to be caught in Ais’ gaze

(Caught and breathless–the same way you were when he was bullying his thick length into your hole, thrusting sharply and sighing in satisfaction, his fingers still at work massaging and pressing and stroking as he sunk into you inch by inch; he'd prepared you until your entrance was puffy and swollen, sopping with thick, medicinal smelling lube and he still had to take his time.  Fucking you slowly until you could take all of him.  And then, the moment you finally could...)

“Hmm, that's better.  Stay just like that.  Let me see those pretty expressions.”  You hear Vere adjusting his heavy vellum paper.  The glide of quick, clever lines being drawn.

You maintain eye contact with Ais, drunk off his breath, his body, the very essence of him, hovering so close above you, and are utterly unprepared to meet his intensity.  The way he looks at you like he’s seconds from devouring you, barely held in check by the challenge that Vere has laid before him.  Before both of you.

You bite into your lower lip as you shift involuntarily, oversensitive nerves still riding the throbbing of Ais’ dick.  He’s so fucking thick and girthy that he presses at the soft spot inside you without even trying. The angry pulse of him is a gratifying thrum, stoking your aching heat by way of mere burgeoning contact.

His cock gives another strong twitch and your insides clench around him.  He feels so fucking good–you almost think you might be able to come like this, if you can get your body to keep on clenching like that. 

—Almost.

Your next breath comes out as a sob.  There’s a high pitched whine building at the base of your throat and your lashes are wet when you blink.

A monstrous snarl escapes Ais’ lips, one that you can feel even more than you can hear, the vibration of it echoing through your body everywhere you're pressed against him.  The pinnacle between your thighs pulses with it, and your toes curl involuntarily as an errant tear runs down your cheek.  Ais is shaking, sweat dampening his face, his pupils expanding and contracting rapidly, his eyes locked on you as he barely holds himself back.  “Sparrow,” he says, gravel in his tone. 

You say his name in return, your head tipping involuntarily, bearing the softness of your throat, faded marks from both your lovers decorating your skin.  You hear the sheets rip below you, torn into shreds where Ais’ nails have dug into them.

Vere sighs pointedly.  You hear him stop his work, tap his charcoal against the paper as if he’s not entirely satisfied with the scene in front of him.  He pauses for a long time, leaving you both in limbo.

When he moves, it’s to stand.  To saunter over to you both.  You’re pinned beneath Ais, unable to look away, but you can feel Vere’s shadow fall over you just before his hand touches your face, forcing your eyes to his as he catches a crystalline tear with his index finger.

“Shame,” he says, dipping his fingers into his mouth, his tongue lapping up the taste of your tears, lavishing the digits with his tongue.  You whine out a desperate, quiet note just from watching his tongue at work and he basks knowingly in the attention.  “I really thought I could get you both crying.”  He smiles dangerously once his fingers have left his mouth. 

He uses them to drag a wet path down Ais' spine.  “Oh, but the night is still young.  Perhaps I may still think of something that will do the trick...”

18+ Master List | SFW Master List ✦"Kinktober Speedrun & Other Gratuitous (TOUCHSTARVED) Smut" on Ao3

[vendettaparker]

What a Dumbass [P.P]

Summary: Peter’s mistake leads to you being injured. 

Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Swearing, like a substantial amount, suggestive content kinda, gun shot wound, and flustered!Peter 

a/n: I really liked writing this. I couldn’t stop laughing at some of the dialogue. and the mistake peter made to cause the whole set-up of the story is so funny to me. like i can legit see him making this mistake. also, i’m gonna make a permanent tag list, so please send me an ask or message me if you want to be on it! <3

        ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

     Peter Benjamin Parker is a fucking dumbass. All the time mostly. Most of the time his dumbassery leads to a lot of annoyed avengers, a lot of clean up, and a lot of spilled secrets. Hence why like three people who definitely shouldn’t know he is Spider-man do. But every once in while his idiocy can lead to an unexpected happily ever after, at least until he fucks something up again. 

     This particular fuck up has yet to be determined as a happy accident or your new 13th reason. It all started when that spider bitch decided it’d be a good idea to watch some explicit content on his laptop. Now, this wasn’t particularly an unknown activity for him to partake in, since we all know about his little impromptu purchase in Germany, but unbeknownst to this dork, his aunt was in the next room over working on a tear in his suit. And to make matters worse, he accidentally just so happened to purchase a subscription using said aunt’s credit card that was pre-setup in his laptop. 

     Now May is a very understanding woman. Very sex-positive, very loving, and inclusive; the whole shebang really. So when she happened to catch this idiot doing what he most certainly shouldn’t have been doing, she wasn’t mad, just thoroughly disturbed. Then she got the notification about the purchase. That was a bit more taboo in her eyes. So Peter was grounded from patrolling for a week and his laptop privileges were revoked for two weeks. That was fucking merciful compared to what this whole fuck up put you through. 

     At the school that following Monday, Peter spent the whole first, second, fourth, and lunch period trying to convince you to take over patrol for a week. Sure, you could definitely handle it, not to pat yourself on the back or anything, but you were significantly stronger than Peter, so it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. But you just really didn’t want to. Peter had his ‘Peter Tingle’ to help him find danger, while you’d actually have to look. It just seemed harder for you to do than it would be for him. 

     “Why are you even grounded?” You sighed after Peter's 3rd time bringing up the possibility of you patrolling for him at lunch. 

     “He got caught watching and buying p—” Ned started laughing.

     “Ned! Shut up!” Peter yelled, slapping his hand over his friend's mouth. 

     “How has your identity not been leaked yet, Jesus Christ.” You mumbled, giggling. You flipped through your chemistry textbook, writing notes to prepare for Friday’s quiz. 

     “Yeah, and how come you didn’t know May was home?” Ned pushed Peter’s hand away. “Where was your ‘Peter Tingle’ then?” 

     “She’s not a threat, dude. But shit, I really wish my tingle detected her.” Peter groaned, a deep blush covering his features. “Please (Y/N). I really, really don’t wanna leave Queens without any protection for a week. I’ll try to convince May to let me go out on the weekend, so really it’s only five days.” 

     “I guess I could help you out, but you owe me. I should really spend this time studying for my chemistry test. Iron bitch is gonna have my head on a spike if I fail another chem test.” You said, highlighting more notes. 

     “Okay! Delmar’s for a week, anytime, anywhere.” Peter said putting his hand out for you to shake. 

     “Make it a month, I know my worth.” 

     Peter hesitated, but eventually gave in, “Fine, but you better do a good job.” 

        ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

     So now you were stuck patrolling from 8:30 to 11:00 every night. It wasn't bad per se, and nothing too eventful happened. You stopped a small convenience store robbery, gave a few kids some tips at the skatepark, ran some errands for an old lady, and saved a cat from a tree. Thursday night was the real kicker though. Your night had barely started and you accidentally got in the middle of a drug deal between some smaller mob and a real messed-up junkie. This should’ve been an easy takedown, only six people in total that needed to be taken out, but like was mentioned before, you don’t have Peter’s goddamn, stupid fucking tingle. So after taking all six of the perps out you started to walk away after alerting the police. Unfortunately, one of those assclowns had come to, and grabbed the gun a few feet away from him and shot it towards you. The bullet went through your thigh and out the other side. Screaming in shock and pain, you used your own throwing knives and knocked the gun out of the mobster’s hand, then you proceeded to knock him out again with a few good punches to his noggin, maybe a few more, just for good measure. But this wound would need to be cleaned and stitched up. And if you went back to the Tower, Steve and Tony would give you an earful about “watching your surroundings” and “being more careful”. So in a moment of pure adrenaline and desperation, you texted Peter. 

You: are you home

Spider-Dork: Yeah, why?

You: i’ll be there in 5 

Spider-Dork: What? Why? Is everything ok?

Spider-Dork: Hello??? (Y/N)????

(Y/N) declined (3) calls 

Spider-Dork: Answer my calls idiot. 

     Peter’s texting and constant calling was cut short from a crash in his room. 

     “(Y/N)? Is that you?” Peter called from the couch in the living room. 

     “Yeah, can I borrow a t-shirt?” You called, fumbling around accidentally knocking over another lamp. “Oops, sorry!”

     “Uh, yeah sure. In the closet!” Peter called back pausing his show, prepared to make his way over to you. 

     “And some sweats?” You called back, blood dripping all over Peter’s hardwood floor. 

     Peter got up to make his way to his room. “Yeah, second drawer on the left side.” He said as he made his way to his bedroom. Knowing you were in there, most likely changing, he knocked. “You decent?” 

     “Nope, not really. I need a pair of your boxers too, though.” You called through the door, now seeing that the blood splattered on your underwear as well. “Also, bring the first aid kit when you come in.” 

     ‘What? Why?” Peter said in a more stressed tone, pushing his way into the room, completely ignoring the fact that you were very much not decent. “Holy shit.” He said seeing you out of your suit, in your bra and underwear, blood dripping down your right leg, pooling onto the floor. Your hand, red and bloody, pressed onto what he only assumed was the wound and blood seeping through your fingers. 

     “Bring a mop too.” 

     Peter ran out of the room to grab the first aid kit, plus some extra bandages and a cleaning solution. When he came back in he found you in the same state, standing in the middle of the room, eyebrows furrowed in pain, clutching your right thigh. 

     “What the hell happened?” He gasped, motioning for you to sit on his bed. You hesitated, not wanting to mess up his sheets. He seemed to notice your thought process quickly adding, “I have to wash my sheets anyway.” 

     “Gross.” You mumbled, scrunching up your face in disgust and finally settling down on his bed. 

     “Move your hand and tell me what happened,” Peter said kneeling on the floor next to the bed, positioned right at your hips. You removed your hand, bloody instantly seeping onto the bed. Peter winced looking at the hole in your leg, quickly grabbing the peroxide and dumping heaps of it onto your leg, much to your distaste. 

     “I got shot.” You stated as he cleaned the blood around the hole with alcohol pads.

     “Well, no shit. I mean by who and how?” 

     “Mobster. Sneaky bitch got me while I was walking away.” You winced as Peter inspected the wound further. 

     “I need to stitch this up. Did it go all the way through?” He said lifting your leg to look underneath for an exit wound. 

     “Yeah.” Peter found the exit wound and held your leg up with one hand, pouring peroxide on the back of your thigh with the other. 

     “You have to be more careful, (Y/N)! This looks really nasty.” Peter scolded, setting your leg back down and prepping the needle and sutures. “What if this was in your chest? Or—or if you didn’t get here in time? You could’ve bled out!” 

     “Well sorry that I don’t have your stupid tingle to help me out when I’m being fucking shot at!” You yelped, gripping the bedsheets. 

     “You don’t need spidey sense, you need fucking common sense,” Peter mumbled, stitching his first suture.

     “What the fuck did you just say?” You looked at him incredulously. 

     “I— uh, nothing.” Peter huffed, focusing back on stitching you up.

     “This is your all your fault, to begin with!” You accused, shifting uncomfortably, due to the needle constantly being stuck into your leg. “You’re the one that begged me to go on patrol for you! You’re the dumb bitch that got caught watc—” 

     “Ok! Shut up! For God’s sake, you’re never gonna let me live that down.” Peter groaned, finishing up the last stitch. “Flip over.” He commanded, pushing at the side of your waist to help with the movement. 

     “Well, it was fucking dumb. Don’t you check to make sure nobody’s home? God, we all know you’re a vocal bitch too.” You said, fully situated on your stomach. 

     “What the fuck is that suppose to mean!?” He gasped, prepping another needle. 

     “You’re a sensitive boy.” You shrugged, wincing when Peter started his next stitch. 

     “I-I am not sensitive! I’m emotionally and physically staunch!” He defended, going in for another stitch. 

     You just raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Sure, whatever you say, babe.” You winked at him, blowing an exaggerated kiss. 

     “You're a jerk,” Peter mumbled, finishing up his stitching job. “A jerk with a fucked up leg.” 

     You hummed, quite amused. Peter got up and started to collect his medical supplies. He shuffled out of the room to put everything away. When he returned you were trying to get up and walk, wincing at every slight movement. 

     “Here, let me just—” Peter lifted you up, bridal style. A small yelp coming from you when a sharp pain shot through your leg. “Sorry.”

     “It’s fine. Can you help me get dressed?” You said as he walked you over to his desk and set you down in his desk chair. 

     “Sure.” Peter blushed, painfully aware of your lack of clothes. He picked out some clothes from his closet and drawers. He helped you into them, wallowing in the uncomfortable silence, taking in each whimper and wince from you whenever he brushed against your thigh. 

     “Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He sighed after you were all dressed. “This is my fault.” 

     You looked at his distraught face, feeling bad for initially blaming him for the events of tonight. “No, Pete. It’s fine. I should’ve made sure all of the guys were knocked out.” You put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

     “No, I should’ve been more careful when I was watching that stuff. I have my spidey sense, I would’ve been able to avoid getting shot. It’s not your fault that you didn’t get bit by a radioactive spider.”

     “Pete, really, I’ll be better by next week anyway. It’s fine.” 

     Peter shook his head, sighing. “I just feel so bad, I shouldn’t have forced patrolling on you.” You hugged him and rubbed his back soothingly. “It’s my fault you got hurt.” 

     “Peter stop. It’s just an unfortunate accident.” You mumbled, hugging him closer. “It could’ve happened to anyone.”

     “But it didn’t happen to just anyone (Y/N), it happened to you. And I caused it. I-I don't know what I’d do if something ever happened to you. What if it was worse?”

     You sighed, pulling away from Peter and cupping his face, seeing the regret and shame pooling in his eyes. Without much thought, you pulled him closer, slowly connecting your lips in a sweet kiss. Truly getting lost in the feeling of his lips against yours, the feeling of perfection. 

     Peter’s eyes widened in shock for a moment, before he was kissing you back, reveling in the feeling he’s been dreaming about for months. You finally pulled away to catch your breath. Peter flushed at your actions, unable to stop the wide smile crossing his features. 

     “Sorry,” You mumbled sheepishly, “just needed to shut you up for a second.”

     “Maybe I should talk more, just to see what happens,” Peter smirked, pulling you in for another shorter, but just as sweet, kiss. 

     You hummed against his lips. “I really like you. Even when you're a dumbass.” You sighed against his lips.

     “The feeling is mutual.” 

     “Rude. I’m not a dumbass.” You gasped in faux offense. 

     “You’re the one with a bullet wound.” he deadpanned 

     “You’re the one who got caught watchin—”

     “(Y/N)!”

[weaselbeaselpants]

Rewritten Alastor notes (TW: NSFL, Cannibalism, Vore, animal abuse)

This is unexpected I know, but I’m suffering from a major headache and I need something to do.

Alastor the Radio Demon in my non-existent Hazbin repaint. Things he has in common with his canon self:

Human soul of a man who died in the 1930s. Was a cannibal in life.

Tried (and succeeded) to corrupt a bunch of lesser demons. 

Respected by the big-bads of Hell, like Valentino and Vox. Feared among them as well because he creeps even them out.

Deer + wendigo motif still very much still at play.

Still asexual, though I wouldn’t recommend putting him on any pride flags.

Gets along with Charlie and loves antagonizing Vaggie.

Treats Nifty and Husk as goons and/or pets.

His weird hair tufts emote along with him like ears. I don’t know if they are ears though. I think Viv has the right idea not confirming what the frack is up with his anatomy.

Can’t ever stop smiling. Ever. That aspect of Al’s design is something real special that I think Viv has the right idea implementing. A character who can not stop smiling makes for a lot of terrifying and hilarious reactions. Just look at Sans near eternal smile. 

Inexplicably likes pineapple pizza. Funny out-of-character gag.

AGAIN: CONTENT WARNING ESPECIALLY FOR ANYONE WITH TRIGGERS TO THE STUFF ABOVE. KEEP READING AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Changes made to his character:

I do not mind Hazbin being crass and vile and offensively-over the top as long as it has a good grasp on what the joke is (like Helluva Boss :>). My Hazbin thesis is that all of the characters are “demons�� in as much as they’ve done bad things or were bad people, but are not maniacal or sadistic + there’s hope for some of them. THEN there’s Alastor who absolutely lives up to the demon-reputation and did genuinely evil things in life. Alastor’s the kind of person who absolutely should be purged but has escaped because those who are supposed to be for justice aren’t threatened by him.

He isn’t involved in voodoo or has any affluent Creole background. With all do respect that aspect feels just a little too lifted from Dr. Facilier. My Alastor’s background is American “mutt” with an Algonquian-native grandmother.

His sin in life - and in Hell itself - is Gluttony. Taking a page from the OG Wendigo mythos, which describes them more as pulsating, gorging Elderitch abominations, Al’s MO in the show is to consume everyone and everything there is. 

Alastor’s demonic powers are presented as a wave of high frequency radio static that messes with a demon’s psyche so much it physically hurts them. Al then scoops up his victim’s souls to power his microphone and everything that demon had in it’s possession beforehand crumbles or becomes his.

Angel is afraid of him. Unlike in the canon cartoon, Angel is the one who recognizes Alastor and knows he’s dangerous, not Vaggie. Turns out, Angel had a run in with the Radio Demon sometime during the mid twentieth century (so when they were both pretty young in demon years). Angel tried to steal Al’s microphone but Al flung a nasty radio-frequency in Angel’s face, taking out one of his eyes. Angel was present during Al’s first attempt to take over Hell, so he immediately knows Al’s bad news and Alastor never misses the opportunity to mess with Angel in season 1.

Alastor is a shape-shifter. In what is probably the most grizzly detail about my take, he technically self-mutilates in order to re-imagine himself ala the Hellraiser Cenobites - which he does quite a bit to hide from Charlie’s parents.

Technically, Al is naked. What looks like a suit is actually his flesh. Look closely at you’ll see that he’s all stitched together like a crude taxidermy piece. Beneath his “skin” are his bones; which all look like mechanical radio parts and move independently of another. Sometimes Al tears them out if he thinks his “wiring needs to be reworked”, which is Al for ‘feeling an emotion’ and he doesn’t like that.

The motif my Alastor is supposed to invoke is everything about him was “stolen” and crudely pieced back together: he collects and traps other demons inside his microphone; he eats by unhinging his mouth and swallows in one gulp. Alastor’s anatomy invokes a lot of vore imagery as well as Ero Guro. Despite being ace, there is a sexual (but not arousing) edge to his character, which leads to a lot or horror and humor.

Alastor does not like that he was human. He’s even in denial of it and insists “I was always a demon. I simply had a nightmare that I was a man. Now I’m awake and the nightmare is long gone”.

Alastor’s human name was Edward; he was a sad, pathetic little man whom everyone walked all over. Edward wanted to be a radio host but was denied that position cause he ‘couldn’t smile’. Edward was deeply disturbed and fixated on ingesting human meat (a condition called ‘wendigo psychosis’). Despite committing murder and then eating all his victim’s bodies, he can’t recall most of the process and was frightened by his behavior, knew what he was doing was wrong. BUT he never went about treating his addiction with meat; he’d have “cold periods” where he didn’t kill and thought he was ‘fixed’ only for his psychosis to resurface.

Alastor’s demon self aims to be all the things that he wasn’t in life: happy, fulfilled, complete, confident, cheery, and satisfied. Al relishes in his self-made creepy image and no doubt took his demon name from a famous Alastair from his youth. 

Al’s character arc throughout the ‘show’ (there is no show, why am I treating this like genuine pitch bible blah) goes as follows:

For the first season leading up the the finale and beginning of season 2, Al pretends to be Charlie’s friend until he backstabs her and takes over her hotel to harvest the ‘redeemed’ souls so he can restart his broadcasting-takeover that was just barely stopped years before. Charlie, Vaggie, and Angel intercept him however and destroy his microphone - which holds all the souls - causing him to loose his power. Charlie personality terminates his physical form leaving only his ‘heart’, which Lucifer makes Charlie eat so that Alastor will forever be under her control. The downside to this is Al’s soul+heart+person exists within Charlie now, and he of course speaks to her within her mind, trying to discourage, belittle, threaten or taunt her plans and feelings throughout the second season. Season 3′s opening would be about the main cast trying to get Vaggie out of Heaven once they learn it’s as corrupted as Hell. Charlie needs Al’s expertise, so she vomits him up. Al agrees to help her but is obviously not happy and vows to get his freedom back. In the second half of season 3, the main characters have to lay low while the angels partake in spiritual warfare against Lucifer. So Charlie and co. escape to the human world disguised as humans. Though an agreement, Alastor comes along and aquires a foreclosed motel for the demon’s to live (he intends to trap mortal souls while he’s there, though Charlie intercepts this too). 

Angel and co. end up discovering Al’s human identity (something he tried to cover up any evidence of having in Hell) and invite his now elderly human daughter to the motel. It works too well however, and the fright of seeing his daughter again triggers an all out anxiety attack in Alastor causing him to merge with the motel. Charlie has to traverse his insides to try and get to his crumbling psyche which would be very Akira-inspired.

Meanwhile, inside Alastor’s mind we see his demon form finally baring a frown and freaking out as the pathological spirits of his victims sing to him in a radio booth about the life he’d chosen and the lives he took away from them. (Yes, this is absolutely taken from Bojack Horseman)

Once Charlie cuts to his core+Al faces the fact that there never was another demon responsible for his actions, it was always just him, Al relinquishes his hold on that motel and his physical form become that of a baby deer, whom Charlie nicknames ‘Deerlastor’. Deerlastor doesn’t appear to have any of Al’s powers, memories, or personality but Angel and the other demon’s Al’s abused insist on killing it, sure that this is just another one of Al’s weird forms. Because of Alastor’s absence, it takes a lot longer and harder for the main cast to get back to hell and help Charlie’s dad’s stop the (previously human) angels who want to wipe purge ALL of hell.

To take out the main ‘enlightened’ angel that’s in the middle of trying to purge ALL of Hell, the demon’s need a power of their own. Deerlastor agrees to sacrifice its body and because of that, Alastor pops out from the deer’s body and head on collides w. the big bad angel-villain, eliminating both their souls. Alastor gets no proper redemption arc kids, he just gets to be the one to take out the main villain.

Edward/Alastor’s daughter’s name was Lavinia and she was the closest thing to genuine ‘love’ he had in his life and the only person who obviously looked up rather than ignore or abuse Edward. When Ed was arrested and confessed to his crimes, his daughter wasn’t allowed to see him and the knowledge that her father was a cannibalistic serial killer haunted Lavinia all her life.

His crimes were not sexual. This is NOT AN EXCUSE for what he did though because - 

- two of his victims were children. Yep. 

Unlike the rest of the filth-spewing demons, Al doesn’t appreciate racism or sexism. He thinks himself a feminist for his day...despite also having killed women and children. Keep in mind he’s also from the 30s, so he’s as “progressive” as people could be for back then, AND he believes that his partial native ancestry means it’s okay to call himself a ‘wendigo’.

In reference to an oooooooooooold ref sheet Viv made for Alastor back in the day, Deerlastor gets shot in the head and dismembered a lot but always gets up like nothing’s wrong.

Alastor does not like electroswing. He likes jazz, doowop, twist, show jingles, and lots of American Folk ballads. You know, the stuff they’d jam the radio’s with back in the 30s.

Big influences on my Alastor are They Shoot Horses Don’t They?, American Murder Song, My Friend Dahmer (a graphic novel), Llamas with Hats and Haunted by Chuck Palahniuk. 

(Ima thinking of renaming my Hazbin gang to better distinguish them between the canon. Alastor’s the only one who won’t be renamed though, just probably spelled a different way. (Alystar, Alaster, Alastar))

[spiltscribbles]

Notes: One Reblog is worth a thousand stars <3.-

The grandiose brownstone on the upper west side is filled to the brim with guests that Ronan barely recognizes, platters of foods he doesn’t remember ordering, and rounds of drinks he thanks God, Jesus and the Holy Ghost above  that never seem to run out. 

“Lynch, old boy,” a faintly familiar, boyishly attractive brunette calls from where he’s standing with three other nondescript fucks  that Ronan eventually realizes are all from his old preparatory days at Aglionby. 

“Wentworth,” Ronan greets with as much welcome as he can muster— a negative four point two on the Gansey scale of charm, but hey, what’s a guy to do.  “I presume you’re enjoying yourself?” 

“Thoroughly,” he assures with a coquettish little wink that Ronan completely ignores. 

“Let me know if that ever changes,” he directs the question to the group as a whole so that Wentworth doesn’t get any bright ideas. 

“How’s Declan?” The shortest one asks, all plastered smiles and heaps of blonde hair.

“He’s enjoying DC, says that Matthew is getting on with all his courses.”

“Smart of him to get out of Henrietta,” another of the foursome interjects with a swig of his iced white. “With Greywaren here and all the trouble he’s stirring up.”

“Come now,” Wentworth chides with a dismissing wave of the hand. “Greywaren is who’s keeping us safe from the trouble and all these awful villains. “Wouldn’t you agree Lynch?” 

Ronan feels the slightest uptick to his pulse, but doesn’t let anything show, just gives a placid smile and  blasé shrug to his shoulder.

“I make it a point not to mingle with politics.”

“Smart chap,” the third one smirks. “Couldn’t tell you how many times the boys on the board told me to keep my trap shut on it.”

Queue round of polite chuckles that Ronan doesn’t partake in.

“You know what isn’t controversial? A donation to the arts.” Ronan tells him.

“A wily one too,” Wentworth laughs. “Well you’ve convinced us Lynch, we’d be happy to help whatever inner city project or museum renovation you’ve got going on.”

“I’ll send Blue over to take the checks,” he tips his glass to them before continuing  on strolling through the throng of blank faces, exchanging pleasantries and volleying nods of recognition as if it’s an olympic sport. 

Ronan hates every fucking minute of it.

“Poor sour patch,” Blue, five foot nothing and unappreciative of any sort of bullshit, mock croons at him once he finally reaches the foursome, clucking her tongue all the while.

Ronan bares his teeth at her, swats away the hand she’s using to pinch his cheek  with a hiss of, “Hop off.”

Blue only laughs ebulliently.

“I fucking hate you.”

“No way to speak to your guests,” Henry toots on Blue’s behalf. “After all, you were just elected Henrietta’s most eligible bachelor, wouldn’t wanna ruin that image with your surly attitude.”

“What would you know Cheng? I sure as fuck don’t remember your name on the list.”

With a role of the eyes, Henry just shoos him away. “Never any bite, I swear.”

“He strolls off to take a call on his pretentious bluetooth, while Noah passes Ronan a fresh flute of the Prosecco.

“You don’t have to keep up the charade you know,” Gansey tells him, popping an appetizer with to many vowels and too little alcohol for Ronan to ever really bother remembering the name of into his mouth. “It’s not as if, ahem. People would ever be made privy to your particular gifts.”

He means the gifts Ronan had inherited from Niall, the ability to dream things and even people and occasionally places into existence. He means the fact that despite the way Ronan dawns a costume with a raven on the chest, he’s in all actuality a dreamer. He dreams his weapons, his vehicles, his everything to use against the bad guys and vigilantes that roam the streets of Henrietta, their city, their home. And some of the things he dreams Declan takes it upon himself to study, to replicate, to cell for the endless fortunes the Lynch name has always been known for. The millions upon millions that Ronan grew up unaware to how his father, a scoundrel and drunk most days, and absent the rest of them, had ever been able to earn. 

No, but Ronan still loves him, adores the memory and the man. Niall gave everything to Ronan and he’s going to respect everything Niall planned out, everything he wrote in his will.

“It’s what my father would’ve wanted, complete secrecy,” says Ronan, doubtless.

“Even with the solitude,” asks Gansey, cutting to the heart of his worries with none of his usual attentiveness. Finally tired of beating around the bush like the Gansey way dictates. 

Ronan’s about to snarl something back that he’s not proud of, something nasty and vicious and unnecessarily cruel. Maybe about Gansey’s pretentious upbringing, probably something about his tireless efforts to find out what’s caused this explosion of superheroes and super villains in the last half century, definitely  also about his piece of shit haircut that makes him look like a douchebag congressman. But Blue must sense it because she interrupts him before Ronan could even part his lips.

“All we’re saying is that we know you’ve got your priorities, but you deserve someone to come home too.”

“It’s so cute that you care,” Ronan snorts, doesn’t mention how this place isn’t home, that it can never stack up to The Barns.

Ronan doesn’t want to build a life here.

“I only care because  every group needs the weirdly brooding, emo friend,” Blue says causticly.

Ronan cuffs her on the back of the head and she kicks him in turn.

“Hey tall, dark, and handsome,” Henry calls, abruptly returning with a slight franticness to his gaze. “No time for the juvenile squabbling, there’s a robbery on Appleton and they’re in dyer need of a certain masked hero.”

.-

Ronan remembers the sun kissed skies and tumbling grasslands that painted the landscape of The Barns, his childhood manner, his oasis away from the bustling folks and raucous traffic of the city that the Lynch’s spent a majority of their year trapped within. He remembers the iridescent rosebuds that scattered the front yard  and the strawberry fields he’d run through, frolicking with a giggling Matthew and occasionally a surly Declan if Ronan had nudged him outdoors by stealing one of his books or hats or whatever proper, grown up thing he was insistent on mastering for that week.

Most of all, he remembers the way Niall would card an indulgent hand through Ronan’s dark mop of locks while they tread around the trails as he divulged to his middle son all the magical wonders and whimsical secrets of this world,  a doting smile on his face while regaling to Ronan stories about brave Irish warriors and lands unexplored, and things unimagined. A dreamer father showing his dreamer child— his favorite child— all the possibilities in his grasp.

“There’s nothing outside your reach Ronan my boy,” Niall, dark haired and sharp jawed and everything Ronan idealized, had boomed in his deep baritone. “You could do anything as long as you can imagine it, dream it. Omnium rum principia parva sunt.”

“The beginnings of all things are small,” Ronan, pint sized and open faced and infallibly kind hearted, had beamed up to his father, pleased that the Latin courses Niall had insisted upon were sticking. 

“Oy, attaboy,” Niall had crowed, swinging on his shoulder a laughing Ronan, a Ronan who believed in the untarnished truth of his father’s words.

But then Ronan hit sixteen, and Niall was murdered  and  the Barns were sanctioned from anyone visiting and everything had fallen apart in a matter of days.

.-

The BMW hums beneath his grasp as Ronan sores through the streets of Henrietta, blanketed in darkness and buzzing with danger.

“It’s at the Sheffield’s lake house,” Gansey patches in through the minuscule communication device Henry had created for them to use. “They’re big supporters of mothers campaign.”

“Oh how darling,” Ronan says in a deadpan. “We should invite them over for high tea, less we look gauche.”

“I’ll ignore the sarcasm due to this being a stressful situation and all,” Gansey harrumphs from the other end. “Noah will be there taking pictures for the paper and Henry’s sending over the address right now. Stay safe.”

“always am.”

“Now we both know that isn’t true.”

.-

Ronan screeches to a stop in front of one of the more posh houses the city has to offer— all high gates and wide partitions and a fountain of a baby angel spitting out water while balancing on one foot— greeted by a middle aged woman in pink chiffon raving to a fearful looking officer about hooligans and dirty thugs and irreplaceable diamonds handed down to her through generations. Though Ronan   doesn’t bother to stop and listen to her sulking once he catches the barest trace of a yellow cape slinking into the shadows out of sight.

He pounces.  

“Fifteen minutes and twenty-three seconds,” the dude in a yellow cape tsks (all the while sporting the world’s most infuriating half grin that Ronan can’t help but appreciate if only for the esthetic) once Ronan finally catches up to him on the edge of the woods skirting against the water. He’s smaller than Ronan, but not by much, and agile as all get out if those amateur parkour stunts weren’t just an illusion. “getting rusty are we? It’s been a while since Henrietta’s seen anything more than a chump vigilante I suppose?”

His voice is low but has got this almost musical cadence to it. Ronan would’ve sworn he was a local if the subtle drawl was anything to go by.

“And who, pray tell, the fuck are you,” Ronan snarls out, stepping closer with his most menacing glower. 

The guy in yellow and red just snorts, unimpressed, while he leaps backwards onto a tree branch… But no, it’s like the tree branch was waiting for him. No not even that, like it reached out for him to hop on, like he was the sun and the tree was responding to his very presence. 

“Unimportant, but I know who you are Greywaren.”

“NO fuck, everyone knows me,” Ronan spits.

“Not the real you,” he counters. “But that’s why I’m here.”

Ronan is over the small talk, even if the guy’s got an admittedly attractive voice, he taps on the heels of the shoes he had dreamt and begins to shoot upwards, but the  messed up thing is that the guy seems to have been expecting it, and with just a flick of the wrist another branch swings out and smacks Ronan down like a pesky fly.

“What. The. Fuck.” Ronan manages out with labored breaths as he stands back up.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a real let down Mr Greywaren, because you sure are,” Yellow Cape says with a faux yawn, stretching out to his full six feet while still standing on the branch. He looks like the fucking Fairy Folk in the storybooks Matthew had once insisted Ronan read to him before bed. “Well I’d love to stay and chat but I better get out of your hair and get some bank for my buck.”

“I’ll show you where to shove your buck.”

“Scandalous,” yellow cape sniffs, bored sounding. “ oh and before I forget, Greenmantle sends their hellos.”

In an instance everything freezes.

That word.

Greenmantle.

Flashes of blood and darkness and Niall’s too pale face accented by a wretched slash to his forehead.

The name carved in blood.

Greenmantle.

Ronan’s veins turn to ice and his chest contracts, and by the time he comes to yellow cape is already gone and Ronan is awash with the sorts of memories he ordinarily  keeps securely locked away.

.-

“Greenmantle, are you sure he said that precise name?” Henry asks for the umpteenth time since Ronan came back empty handed and with a major life revelation  the night of the Sheffield robbery. 

“Yes Cheng,” Ronan seethes, tugs on the tie that feels like it’s choking him.

“You look insane,” Blue toots, goes on her tiptoes to adjust it once more. “Now let’s  just take deep breaths, being in public and all.”

Ronan still isn’t sure just how Gansey had convinced them all to attend the Tribune’s annual fundraiser, only remembering  a lot of “getting on the insides” and “copious amounts of alcohol,s” thrown around, and a couple, “you get to tease uppity know it alls who trash the Greywaren for a living,” sprinkled on top just for good measure.

But still, Ronan hates it.

“So he’s back then, finishing off what he started.” Noah surmises.

“Did we ever truly know what exactly he wanted? Erm, aside from the Lynch family’s demise.”

Ronan glares and Henry just winces, apologetic.

“Noah you think you can get anymore intel on Greenmantle possibly leaving Boston? That was last where we tracked him, right?” Blue asks, head cocked. 

“I’m on it,” Noah says while literally pulling out his phone and wandering off to a discrete corner to do whatever it is that he does that gets invasively detailed reports on literally anyone with a social security number.

“Let’s cut the conversation there, Gansey’s coming with that delicious looking friend of his,” Henry warns, causing Blue and Ronan to turn around at the same time to catch on a beaming Gansey promenading towards them with decidedly less sunny company. Company with sea glass eyes and effortlessly ruffled hair that falls unevenly on the left side of his forehead and cheekbones that can literally cut timber.

“Ronan, you’re gonna catch flies,” blue goads, shit eating grin on her face and something like amusement etched into Gansey’s own all the way across the aisle, as if he knows exactly what she had said. Leave it to those freaks to create the world’s first telepathic connection out of the power of their gross as love. 

“You’re fired from both my friendship and your job,” Is all Ronan tells her, tries to look distracted by anyone that isn’t the literal incarnation of Prince Philip walking ever nearer… Erm shut the fuck up, Ronan only knows that certain prince because of Matthew when he went through his Disney phase… And well, Arora really liked those sorts of cartoons when she was bringing up her boys.

Gansey dives down to kiss Blue just as soon as they came close enough, and Henry bugged off to go flirt up some poor soul on the catering staff, which leaves it so he and Adam have got some semblance of privacy… Which Ronan doesn’t care about at all.

“Lynch,” Adam says, mouth curled ever so slightly,  giving him a thin lipped smile. “How’s it going.”

“My life is a fucking summer day,” Ronan replies with probably too much glaring.

“So that nasty looking bruise on your jaw?”

“For the esthetic.”

“Think you missed bad ass and landed on kid who gets too many nose bleeds during gym class.”

“Know that look from experience Parrish?”

He shrugs, unaffected. 

“I was always captain, so can’t say so.”

“Cocky little fuck,” Ronan hisses, making it so Adam’s face finally brightens ten fold and he lets out a breathy— blink and you’ll miss it— laugh. He’s got these insane dimples that never fail to make Ronan’s stomach tie itself into knots, and makes it so  his heart stutter with pleasure and always, always fuels him to try and make them pop out just one more time…. But erm, that means nothing. Whatever Blue or Gansey, or Noah— Especially Henry— Whatever they say whatever stupid little ticks his body goes through, it means nothing towards what he feels for Adam. Which for the record, at best,  is irritated exasperation veiled with a thin layer of indifferent acquaintanceship, considering Gansey has regarded the bloke as a brother since their first night as roommates back in college.

“You wanna grab a drink or will it hurt too much with the injury and all?” 

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll make it so your shitting teeth for the next month.”

“Kinky.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Ronan’s doomed.

.-

“So far the pattern seems to be wealthy, careless and dumb,” Blue says from where she’s hanging upside-down on the couch in Ronan’s den that’s been commandeered for any Greywaren business.

“You just read that off of Parrish’s article in the Tribune this week,” Henry toots, flipping through the aforementioned news report  about who’s been labeled as The Magician. 

“He’s a smart cookie,” Blue relents, having always been partial to Parrish since first meeting him years ago at one of the ridiculous “family dinners,” Gansey holds every Friday evening,  instead of doing something more par for the course for adults their age, namely getting blackout drunk and dancing at sleazy clubs. (

Gansey had just stepped into Monmouth , blasé as all get out with Adam only a few feet behind him, and had gestured his way with the introduction. “This’s Adam, he’s a genius reporter and a great man. Even’s got a photo of him and Lois Lane pinned to his desk at the Tribune.” 

Adam in turn smiled self deprecatingly, his cheeks flushed prettily. “She spoke at a rally our freshman year, just got lucky I suppose.” 

“Oh my God! I love her!” Blue had squawked, eyes bright.  “She’s right between Wonder Woman and Angela Davis on my wall of inspirational women.” 

“Some wall,” Adam said wryly.

“I thought that was a wall of ladies you wouldn’t mind pegging,” Ronan had interrupted just to be a shit.

 “Lynch, I’m not afraid to kill in cold blood.”

If that interaction hadn’t scared Adam off, Ronan supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that nothing had, that now he’s as internal to this little ragtag crew of Henriettas saving graces as any of them, even if he doesn’t have the slightest clue of their night gigs.

“We could ask him about the Magician,” Gansey offers, lips pursed and hopeful glint to his big, caff like  eyes. Ronan knows that he— that all of them— hate lying to Adam, to evade his questions and avoid his calls whenever things are particularly insane, but it’s better this way. If it was up to Ronan none of them would be stuck in this dangerous business. Gansey is here because he had been brought up with Ronan, quite literally brothers in everything but blood. He knew what Niall was, what Ronan is. He knows the importance of the Barns and the danger of Greenmantle, Ronan couldn’t have lied to him about this if he tried. Noah was already privy to the forces of good and evil warring it out in this seemingly inconsequential city right out of DC, had been the one to approach Ronan as Greywaren first, to cultivate a bond that soon transformed into a partnership and now friendship. Henry’s family worked to provide the pieces for the technology that the  original dreamer wanted replicated, for Niall, and it only made sense that when Niall had ever so unceremoniously past the mantel off to Ronan, that Seondeok did the same for Henry. 

To this day Ronan isn’t quite sure how Blue squirmed her way into everything, only that she’s the daughter of a well renowned psychic that they consulted with once on a case, and she had right then, chin tipped high and a deeply embedded resilience in her gaze, had informed them all that she’d be joining their efforts. A few years later, falling in love with Gansey and officially hired to  lead all  knew projects for Lynch Charity, in between, Ronan can’t imagine doing all this without her scrappy self.

But that’s all besides the point. Ronan never wants to be the cause of them hurting, them in danger. He’s seen what could happen to someone if they take one wrong move, saw it splayed out with Niall’s blood and matted hair and sickly pillar that still haunts Ronan’s nightmares most nights.

Ronan’s gonna prevent that from ever happening again to anyone he loves, even if that means he has to prevent any of the aforementioned teammates  from joining his chases, or if it means he has to lie to Adam’s face. To pretend as if he doesn’t see the way Adam’s begun barricading himself from them bit by bit, well aware that there’s something dividing them all from him.

Ronan would rather see Adam furious at him, than never getting to see the particular shade of forget me not blue that colors his irises, ever again.

The choice is simple.

“No.” He tells Gansey, not leaving an ounce of  room for rebuttal.

“He’s a Pulitzer Prize nominated Journalist Ronan, in layman’s terms that means he’s great at figuring things out,” Gansey says with the worn patience of someone who’s hashed out this argument a thousand times before. “It’s improbable that he hasn’t already begun suspecting the truth already.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“I’m sure he could handle himself.”

“No,” Ronan repeats, voice resounding.

“Okay, no time,” Noah cuts in shortly, fingers tapping an agitated staccato against the keyboard of his desktop. “There’s a robbery on Madison Avenue and people are saying it’s our little, yellow caped friend.”

“Stay safe,” Gansey says— like he always does— and Ronan says that he will, like he always does— and the tension between them breaks, for now at the very least, like it always does.

.-

Ronan’s day job, as Declan had once oh so kindly put it, is to stay pretty and give a good face to the brand. “You’re a shit and I know that, but maybe if no one has to talk to you and just sees that you’ve got the same smile as Dad did, they won’t find out for themselves.” Declan had earned a swift right hook for that one, but was probably expecting it considering the dodge and the lecture on anger management he had suffered Ronan through for the next hour.

All this to say, Ronan doesn’t really have a day job. He occasionally visits The Barns— never crossing the threshold but just looking from afar at all he’s fighting to get back— Other times, if he’s not nursing a hangover or injury from the night before, Ronan would drive out to Dc and pull Matthew from classes to get lunch and maybe catch a movie. Though more often than not, Ronan ends up at one of the numerous Lynch owned real-estates, specifically the one where the entire top floor is rented out by the second largest paper in the fucking tri-state area. The fact that a majority of his friends happen to work there is pure coincidence and it would be slanderous to allude otherwise. 

“You enjoy our company,” Noah taunts, camera dangling from his neck and face split with a bright smile.

“Fuck you.”

“You do though,” he beams, impervious.

“Noah I swear to fucking God.”

.-

“Ah, so the prodigal son has returned,” Adam, looking like a fucking professional in his button down and tie, greets one particular Thursday afternoon when Ronan shows up for the first time that week. It’s been a difficult one for him, with the news that Greenmantle is most certainly not in Boston anymore, but also undetectable anywhere else on the continental United States, coupled with the series of robberies from more and more of the city’s wealthiest, surely by no other than that fucking yellow cape— The Magician— It’s just been really fucking exhausting.

Ronan will go to his grave before admitting that just catching sight of Adam here, now… It kind of makes him breathe a little easier, even if there’s a cut right under Adam’s chin and his stance is woven with a certain fatigue one can only recognize with experience. 

He suddenly remembers talking to one of Adam’s old school friends, a petite blonde who looked at an oblivious Adam with hearts in her eyes. He members her telling him just how Adam had lost the hearing in his left ear, how it was merely a tipping point from a long building cycle of abuse. Ronan thinks of how gutted he feels looking at how haggard Adam looks right now, and can’t imagine knowing him back when fucking Robert Parrish was still apart of his life.

But he shakes that all off, offers Adam a snide half grin like he’’s probably expecting.

“Missed me sugar dumpling,” Ronan jeers in an overdone accent to mock Adam’s subtle one, vowels rounded and snatching away the g.

“It was quieter,” is all Adam says, and if Ronan doesn’t know better he would’ve taken that as a compliment teetering on flirtatious instead of one of Adam’s deadpan observations. 

And oh, that’s interesting. 

“I’ve always been known for my stimulating conversational skills,” Ronan nods sagely, leaning against Adam’s desk with his arms wrapped across his chest, enjoying it probably a little too much how Adam’s peering up at him with his bright eyes through his spider leg lashes. 

Sometimes, just sometimes— just when Adam looks at him like Ronan could be the brightest part of his day— Ronan feels like he’s standing on the precipice of something with him, something that makes his chest stutter and stomach tumble itself into knots. Like Adam’s air and Ronan’s finally breathing. But also that’s a ridiculous notion because in all the years they’ve known each other Adam’s never made a move, not one that Ronan could discern at least, and he just needs to not fall into some ridiculous folly. 

“Oh I’m sure,” he snorts.

 “You wanna grab lunch? Leo’s having a half off if you buy two sale.”

“I don’t eat gluten.”

“I saw you scarf down a bowl of pasta at the mayor’s shitty dinner literally last weekend,” Ronan accuses, incredulous and only slightly affronted.

“Fine,” Adam breathes out. “Then I don’t eat gluten that’s meant to distract me from my work.”

“Fuck off.”

“Can’t do that either.”

Ronan seriously thinks he might hate Adam, if it wasn’t for the fact that he most certainly does not.

“You don’t have to like work yourself ragged just to prove a point you know, just because you’re the newest print journalist doesn’t mean you’re the least talented.” Ronan tells him, gruff sounding and avoiding his gaze at all costs. “That’s obviously Tad.”

Adam stays quiet for too long, so Ronan braces himself and turns around, not expecting Adam to be pinning Ronan with a one eyed squint, like he’s sizing him up. Like Ronan’s some sort of jigsaw puzzle he can never quite figure out. 

“Kay, let’s go,” he says, slow and cautious as he shuts his laptop and slinks on his jacket.  Ronan is only partially surprised that he actually listened, usually it takes a whole lot more cross looks and prodding at and about ten times more profanities for Adam to even consider stop working on some new story or the other that he’s particularly passionate about. 

“Good,” Ronan huffs in as flat of a tone he can muster. “But I fucking hate subs so we’re not going to Leo’s.”

Adam sighs, long suffering. “You were born to be contrary Lynch.”

“’S what Declan says, but he doesn’t know shit.”

“As opposed to you? Oh great arbiter of all knowledge.” Adam retorts, making it so Ronan’s mouth dips into a small, reluctant smile. 

“Precisely.”

Their eyes connect at that moment, ice blues boring into a twilight night sky sparkling with kisses of starlight. Ronan can hear his heart beat in his ears and his throat lodge with emotions he can’t place quite yet.

It’s Adam who breaks it, averting his gaze and clearing his throat, adjusting his papers on the desk just to make it as seemingly natural as possible.

“Mexican, Mexican’s never bad. And hey I get a chance to hear you fail at rolling your Rs.”

Ronan glowers.

“Piss off.”

So they go, Ronan orders a meat stuffed burrito and Adam orders the special and Ronan doesn’t talk about all the gluten Adam’s eating and  they most definitely do not talk about what may or may not have past between them.

It’s fine. It’s normal. He’s good.

Ronan’s got a lot of other shit to be worrying about without this maybe something he’s been harboring for Adam since before they even really knew each other, and it shouldn’t change just because Adam seems to be finally joining him in this strange little dance, stumbling together  around  this tiny flame that may or may not have sparked to life.

It’s fine. it’s normal. He’s good.

“I’m figuring out who Greywaren is,” Adam answers Ronan’s inquiry on what story’s got him so on edge and everything freezes over.

It’s not fine. It’s not normal. And Ronan is sure as fuck not good.

.-

“He’s swung onto Hamilton Boulevard,” Blue tells Ronan, almost frantic, through the headphone set. 

Ronan finally gets the fucking Magician in eye sight, watching as he slips into the maze of downtown apartments.

“Good, no fucking trees,” Ronan hisses while swerving off the road and chasing after him by foot, eventually landing on a rooftop. It’s the sixth encounter they’ve had in as many weeks so Ronan thinks he’s finally starting to ware him down, or at least beginning to figure out his arsenal of techniques. He knows that the moment he lands on that roof The Magician will just leap to the next one and the one after that until he finally loses Ronan in the dust.

But this time the Magician doesn’t know about the little pouch of a Ronan Lynch original that’s clacking  around on his belt. 

“Isn’t there more important shit you should be chasing after?” The Magician growls out, leaping to the next roof in the row and rolling his landing— smooth fuck.

“Isn’t there better ways you can be earning money besides stealing it?” Ronan counters, right on his tale.

“Like those old farts would miss’m,” The Magician scoffs, thin lips pinched into an infuriatingly attractive pout. “There are kids starving in this city, you know that Greywaren?”

“So what? You some fucking reincarnation of Robin Hood?” Ronan spits out.

“He was a fictional character, so that’d be impossible,” The Magician pivots around so quickly that Ronan is caught off guard, especially when he pulls out a bow and arrow and shoots it with deadly precision, tearing Ronan’s cape right off and sticking it to the wall behind them.

“But the bow is a favorite of mine.”

Ronan clenches his teeth in frustration. 

“Look I don’t give a fuck about you getting your jollies from stealing from old, rich fucks. Not really.”

“Then why the hell do you keep pursuing me?” The Magician charges, never flinching from his stance or losing his aim directed right at Ronan’s chest.

“Greenmantle,” he grits out, like broken glass ripping his throat to shreds and piercing his tongue and lips as it escapes in a fury of blood and guts and abandonment. “You said that name when we first met.”

“Yeah, and so what?”

“What do you mean so what!” Ronan bellows, hates how this vigilante fuck is so blasé about the one person that makes it feel like Ronan’s insides are burning up and dying right alongside everything else when Niall had past. With his mother and the Barns and the memories and the ease of just existing to exist instead of searching for some existential meaning behind it all. “How do you even know Greenmantle?”

The Magician just shrugs, for the first time in all the weeks he’s been clashing against Ronan his face betrays his typical impassivity and actually looks cautious, curious— unsure.

“Greenmantle’s the one who asked me to figure out who you are, paid me like a ridiculous sum of money for it.”

“And why do you think Greenmantle wants me so badly!”

“Fuck if I know, some blood feud between the wealthy and powerful. I don’t care, it’s not my business.”

“Fuck off,” Ronan steps closer, but the Magician remains stock-still, weapon poised to be wielded. “I know it was you who stopped that armed robbery last weekend at the bank, and you saved that bus collision with your creepy voodoo one with the trees, powers.”

This time the Magician’s lips curl into acute disapproval, he’s irritated by Ronan calling him out. Ronan thinks that it should be disconcerting that he could get so much from a simple reading of his mouth, but also it’s the only feature he can see on his face, so it isn’t that creepily invested.

“I don’t put people in danger, just steal from the oblivious and wealthy.”

“You’re not a bad guy,” Ronan surmises, has known that for a while now. “Don’t get mixed up in Greenmantle’s shit. They’re bad people, really bad.”

The magician sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, flickers his focus to something right above Ronan’s shoulder, like he was considering his words in a meaningful kind of way.

“How do I know that you’re not just lying to me. That Greenmantle isn’t justified for whatever slight you’ve done to them.”

“There’s a reason why you haven’t really tried figuring me out, you don’t want to help them.” Ronan needles.

“Don’t try to psychoanalyze me.”

“It’s true, you feel it. you know they aren’t safe.”

“Tell me why I should trust you,” is all the Magician says, waspish.

Ronan wants to shout, to pull out his hair and just scream. He wants to tell the Magician that he didn’t commit some sort of  fucking obscene offense to’m, that Greenmantle just knows what he can do and wants to control it, control him. But Ronan’s suddenly too tired and too frustrated and too so many things that he can’t even fathom parsing out the right words to convince him. Instead, Ronan just  picks out one of the seeds in his pouch and throws it into the Magician’s sandy hair, ducking when the first arrow is released.

“What the fuck was that?”

“Why can’t you fucking just listen to me!” Ronan says instead of answering. “Greenmantle is fucking evil.”

“You missed anyways douche,” the Magician snarls out, pulling another arrow from his sheath.

Ronan lets out a little, dark laugh at that, standing up to his full height. “Haven’t you ever heard that the beginnings of all things are small?”

The Magician’s face goes very flat, completely unimpressed.

“Now who’s speaking in shitty voodoo riddles?”

Fuck, Ronan hates how much he enjoys waging words with him.

“It’s not voodoo,” Ronan says in an admittedly cryptic voice.

“What the fuck!” The magician suddenly balks. Ronan reckons it’s because of the ropes knitting themselves around him over frustration about  his comment. 

“You won’t listen, so I’m turning you in.”

“Screw you!” he yells, face bright with feeling. 

“Jail’s better than if you accidentally get on Greenmantle’s bad side,” Ronan informs him magnanimously, dark head tilted in an admittedly Declan way.

“You are such a piece of shit.”

“Could say the same to you sweetheart,” Ronan sniffs, is taken aback at the unexpected prickling to his side.

“What—“

He looks up to find the Magician tearing through the ropes that look like they’ve been completely unwound. He looks a bit closer to find the hundreds of small spikes prickling its circumference.

“Is that—“

“A pine,” Magician scoffs, lets out a new round to pierce into Ronan’s side with a mere snap of his finger.

“How the fuck can you even do that!”

The Magician doesn’t answer, just bolts over to Ronan with a swift kick to the opposite side from the needles, rendering him defenseless, and runs off just as soon as the sirens come within hearing distance. All Ronan could do is watch the night swallow him whole.

.-

Ronan is bothered and disgruntled and pissed off— even more than usual. It’s why he’s sulking in a dark corner, peevish as all get out, while there’s like a hundred guests invading his family home in the city, here to celebrate Declan’s thirtieth and also probably just to make Ronan hate life that bit more.

He can’t believe he let the Magician go that easily, and now that he is actually mad at Ronan who knows what he’ll do now to actually figure him out, bring’m to Greenmantle just so they could finish the job and kill off all the Lynch dreamers. 

“Fuck.”

“Language,” a far too familiar voice reproofs with no heat, making Ronan jolt back to watch as Adam strolls towards him.

“You’re here?” Ronan says, floundered as he stares at the way his shoulders move just right in that blazer. God he’s beautiful.

“You should really consider asking Gansey for a job, your observational skills are truly top notch,” Adam says in a decidedly sardonic tone.

“Asshole,” Ronan huffs, excepting the drink Adam offers him.

“You seemed in a funk all week, thought you’d need the moral support for a party literally  meant to celebrate your brother.”

Ronan looks away, tries not to look so gleeful that Adam came here specifically— solely— to cheer up Ronan.

“You thought I’d want your company over any of these pricks,” Ronan says just to keep up pretenses— Admittedly a bit to afraid of the outcome if he starts to let them slide and just begins to babble out  loud all the stupid thoughts clamoring in his mouth and chest and mind whenever around Adam. The way his chest blooms with something splendid and the blossoms taking shelter in his ribcage. Though Adam seems to be having completely contradictory thoughts, because all he does is shrug— almost defiant.

“I thought you’d like my company yes,” he says blithely, as if he were reading a weather forecast or some shit.

“Whatever,” Ronan says instead of telling him he’s right. But Adam takes it as is with a diffident little smile and stepping that much nearer, good ear tipped towards Ronan.

“You wanna get out of the crowd? Show me around this place?”

Ronan does not swallow down, not for any particular reason at least, like how maybe to the untrained ear that could’ve past as a come on.

That is not a thing that happens! He’s not some Bella Swan type swooning over a cute boy he’s pretty sure is the one. That’s not happening! Ronan is not doing that!

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

Adam’s answering smile is radiant. And Ronan fucking hates himself for even knowing that word.

.-

“It’s huge…. Ah erm, your house I mean,” Adam coughs a little and Ronan’s absolutely ecstatic for the turning tables. 

“Dad use to say that if we weren’t at our palace we still should live like kings, and my mom just indulged all his stupid whims,” Ronan explains, wistful.

“The Barns,” Adam says, slow and cautious, probably knowing that it’s a touchy subject but still curious. “That’s your palace, right?”

“Mmhmm,” Ronan nods, stops in front of a mantel underscoring a risibly large portrait of Niall and Arora, the pair of them juxtaposing completely but still  both so etherial that it would be preposterous to ever imagine one without the other.

 Beautiful and rugged. golden and dark. careless and careful. 

Ronan feels a sudden, acute pang to his chest. Jesus Christ does he miss them.

“They’re beautiful,” Adam marvels, pinky touching the side of Ronan’s hand ever so tenderly from besides him. “You look exactly like your father.”

“Yeah… I’ve been told that.”

They stand there, in the silence, for a little longer— Ronan isn’t quite sure how much time past, a minute or hour, but it feels quiet. For the first time Ronan feels quiet and at peace when he looks at this portrait, and he isn’t sure if it’s a good sign that he’s finally starting to mend, or a bad one that says Greenmantle will soon cause him to join them on the other side.

Eventually, Ronan turns over— apologetic— To Adam, is surprised when he finds him staring with intense interest on the words carved into the frame.

“Omnium rum principia parva sunt,” Ronan reads out loud. “It means—“

“The beginnings of all things are small,” Adam says, mechanically, disbelievingly, confusedly. 

“You know the quote then,” Ronan asks, is struck dumb when Adam’s ordinarily bright and methodical eyes flicker to him as if in a trance. 

“No, not really. Just heard of it recently.”

Ronan nods, it being answer enough. “You wanna meet Chainsaw?”

“Chainsaw?” Adam repeats, finally appearing to come to his own again. 

Ronan cocks his head, silently telling Adam to follow suit, and he does.

.-

“It’s a bird…”

“She’s a raven,” Ronan huffs. “Now who’s got wicked observational skills?”

Adam’s face goes a bit pale, looking excruciatingly uncomfortable as he just nods along to Ronan, not even bothering to snipe back. 

“Yeah sure, of course she is.”

He finishes feeding Chainsaw and leads Adam back to his nearby room, pretending his skin isn’t squirming with anticipation. 

“Is this how you court all your dates?” Adam asks, teasing unassuming all at once, a masterpiece of contradictions Ronan could spend an eon trying to parse out and wouldn’t grow tired.

“Is that what this is?” Ronan asks, tentative while sitting down besides him on the bed.

“Dunno,” Adam shrugs. “’S what I wanted it to be, reckoned you weren’t gonna make a move for another five years.” 

Ronan’s face goes blotchy, and Adam’s laugh is something musical.

“You’re enjoying this.” Ronan huffs.

“You’re precious,” Adam preens, cupping Ronan’s cheek in earnest and slanting his lips against Ronan’s own, and suddenly all the muted grays of this poor substitute of The barns transform to vivid, screaming color. It’s slow and cautious at first but melts into something more, something so much more. It feels like nights racing in the BMW, and days running around the Barns as a kid, wild and free. It feels like sun kissed skies and when his cold fingers begin to thaw at the fire place. It feels like remembering and discovering and just knowing. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for like a year,” Adam admits, bashful, once they finally part, hot tendrils of  breath skirting against Ronan’s lips and soft hands caressing his cheeks.

“Try. Like. three of them.” Ronan counters, punctuating his words with a kiss to Adam’s collar bone, the hinge of his jaw, the tops of his cheekbones.

He can do this, Adam wants him to do this. This is a thing that they’re doing.

“Jesus Ronan,” Adam says in an almost wine, snaking his hands beneath Ronan’’s shirt and splaying out his fingers greedily. “That’s like since we met?”

“I know.”

Adam swoops down so that their lips are moving against each other once more, and everything feels golden.

But it all goes to an abrupt halt when he feels Adam’s long fingers skimming his still bruised side and he sucks in a breath.

“Still tender,” he winces.

Adam pulls back, as if he’s been scorched.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Ronan assures, only a bit pissy that the kissing has stopped— he liked the kissing. “Just a little sore spot.” His shirt rises up enough to give Adam a clear view of the still healing spot, is confused when his face goes a sickly green and he pulls away even further.

“What’s up Parrish?” Ronan asks, sitting up right alongside him.

“That… That looks like a kick. A hard one.”

Ronan kinks up his brows, teasing. 

“So I swung back to bad ass or still a nerd with nose bleeds?”

“That’s a kick,” is all Adam repeats, like he’s gone mad.

“Yeah Parrish, I got in a fight. Don’t sweat, it comes with the territory of buzz cuts and leather jackets. Wouldn’t expect you to know Mr All America.”

“A fight,” Adam says, slow and confounded. His lips moving around the words and his face still blanched, a decidedly unhealthy hue spreading across his soft features. 

“Parrish you okay?”

“I gotta— I gotta go.” He says, scrambling off the bed and straightening his clothes. Ronan feels distinctly like being left high and dry.

“Now? You have to leave now?”

“Yes, now. Immediately.”

“Okay… Gimme a minute to find my keys, I’ll drive you back to yours.”

“I want to walk,” Adam declines, already racing out the door.

“Woah, did I do something wrong?”

“No, nothing,” Adam says, face being tugged into a whole array of emotions before landing on a dangerously blank expression that Ronan’s never been able to read for shit.

Adam goes and Ronan’s confused and the house is still filled with fucking annoying ass guests.

.-

“You’re upset,” Blue says, blunt as ever.

“You’re annoying,” Ronan counters, snappish.

“It’s gotta due with Adam doesn’t it,” She charges, hands flying to her hips and looking more like Maura than Ronan could’ve ever expected.”’S why he’s called in sick to work for the past week and you’ve been more crass than usual.”

“Fuck off,” Ronan hisses, doesn’t look away from where they’re perched atop one of the higher buildings of Henrietta, perfect view to both its polished corners and seedy underbelly.

“I’m right, aren’t I,” Blue presses, but Ronan doesn’t bother to engage.  “Just admit it!”

“So what if you are?”

“God, you both are such idiots.”

Ronan flips her the bird only just catching a flash of yellow ducking into an alleyway.

“Not the fuck today,” he hisses out morosely. “Call me on the bee,”  he tells Blue before pouncing down and chasing after him.

He doesn’t hear her respond, doesn’t really hear anything. He only comes back to focus when the alleyway ends and he’s looking at The Magician standing rigid in front of St Agnes.

“You’re a dreamer,” He says with no fanfare, not accusing but not happy about it either.

“Wh—���

“”s why Greenmantle wants you.”

“Not exactly Nancy Drew,” Ronan mutters out, circling him cautiously.

“He killed your father, he’s the one who sent the hit on Niall.”

In an instance everything goes red, Ronan’s ears roaring with unadulterated fury. 

Like a bullet, Ronan tackles into The Magician, hand wrapped around his neck and noses brushing against each other.

“how the fuck do you know that name,” he asks with heavy breaths. 

“Greenmantle killed your father and he wants to kill you next because of some sort of vendetta against the Lynches.” Yellow cape manages out, barely breathing with Ronan’s hand still clasped tightly around his neck.

“Tell me how you know the name Niall?” He barks out, squeezing even harder. Though Ronan is confused when the magician doesn’t even try fighting back. 

“I know you Ronan, it’s me.”

Everything stutters to a stop, and Ronan’s grasp begins to subside.

“You know my name? How do you know my name?”

“Because it’s me, It’s Adam.”

The world’s gone inside out, and flipped upside down and Ronan’s let go of the Magician— of Adam— and is across the yard once more, stunned silent as he watches as the Magician sheds off  the yellow mask to reveal a familiar mop of sandy hair and night blue eyes and a tiny little dent over his top lip that Ronan’s never asked about but has always wondered if it had to do with the way he holds himself with caution strung into his stance. And absolutely nothing makes sense at all.

“Ad—Adam,” he balks. 

“It’s a long story,” is all he says, completely glum.

“When did you— How did you—“

“Only the other night when we were in your room,” his cheeks go a fetching red at the memory and Ronan yearns to go back to that moment of tranquility before all of this. “I couldn’t believe it, but when I finally figured it out, it all made sense.”

“How— How did you.”

“Look Ronan— Or, erm … Greywaren, there’s no time to explain any of this right now.”

“Why the hell not,” Ronan snarls, tries to feel an appropriate amount of fear, but hates how he’ll probably always feel safe and secure when around fucking Adam Parrish, no matter who he’s dressed as.

“The Greenmantle you know, Colin, he’s dead.” Ronan balks, but Adam just steamrolls over it, continues on speaking with clipped words and a franticness Ronan doesn’t understand quite yet.”it’s his wife you need to worry about, Piper. She’s the one who hired me and has been looking for you, she wants to avenge him like some sort of Harley Quin esthetic.”

“I have no fucking idea what you’re saying.” Ronan informs him grimly. 

“You don’t need to understand, just dream.” Adam tells him, thrusts out a manilla envelope to him and waits for Ronan to open it up and read its contents. 

“Excuse me?”

“Read it.  memorize it, Dream it.” Adam tells him.

“You want me to frame Greenmantle for some pretty heinous shit.”

“You want her taken out, don’t you,” Adam charges.

“How do you know I can even create this shit in my head?” Ronan asks, brows furrowed.

“I have faith,” Adam says with a seriousness etched into his features Ronan’s never seen. “And you’ve got fuel.”

“fuel?”

“Shit won’t be safe until she’s gone, if you ask me, I reckon that’s all your dad intended, for you and your brothers to be safe. I reckon that’s why he barred you guys from the Barns in the first place. Piper’s been there like a thousand times, the dream energy at The Barns is heavy, like a ley line all it’s own. But when the dangers gone, you can make it your palace again.”

“That’s detailed,” Ronan says slowly, still so totally confused.

“I’ve had a week to figure it all out, and this’s the only full proof plan I’ve got.” Adam tells him. 

Ronan bores his eyes into Adam’s own, finds something he recognizes as quintessentially  Adam Parrish in them, and feels that quiet again he did a week ago at Declan’s birthday party. 

He feels sure.

“Okay, I’ll play along.”

“Good,” the ends of Adam’s lips curve up into a smile and Ronan feels like he’s finally gotten the answer right.

.-

They’re back sitting side by side on Adam’s desk, a newspaper in Ronan’s grasp announcing the arrest of Piper Greenmantle.

“You’re preening,” Adam mildly notes.

“I feel…. Free,” Ronan says, far too vulnerable for such a open place.

“I’m glad,” Adam says, voice shimmering with sincerity as he stands up. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself, that you’ll always feel that.”

Ronan eyes him, confused. 

“Sounds like a goodbye to me,” Ronan accuses, and Adam just shrugs. 

“I’ve made a mess of everything, you almost got hurt, seriously hurt.”

“You didn’t know,” Ronan contends.

“I was flippant,” Adam corrects. “But she’s gone now, and you’re going to be safe, so it feels like the right point for me to maybe start fresh too.”

“No,” Ronan says.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re a good guy Adam, and that’s more than most people. People either suck or are awful… You’re not, you’re good.”

Adam frowns. 

“You’re wrong.”

“I’m not,” Ronan stands up, wraps a hand around one of Adam’s slender wrists. “You’re good and you’re bold and you’re a genius and if it weren’t for you I’d probably still be running around terrified that Greenmantle would come back to finish me off. Thank you for giving me the chance not to be afraid of that anymore… Thank you for that.”

“Of course Lynch,”

Ronan swallows down, trying his hardest not to avert his gaze.

“So stay Parrish. Stay and let’s start shit over together.”

Adam doesn’t answer in so many words, instead just inclines his head forwards and kisses Ronan within an inch of his life. 

Ronan likes that answer a whole hell of a lot more. 

[lord-explosion-baku]

Before You Ask...

Here are the FAQs!

Story Status- These are the most frequent asks in my inbox. The “do you plan on continuing this fic?” “When will you update?” “How often do you update?”

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THORNS-📝 I try to update every two weeks, although my busy schedule might not make this very consistent. I try not to be too strict with myself so I don’t beat myself up over not getting a chapter out in time, although I’ve been liberally very good about it so far.

Tempting Tempest-✅⁉️ I wrote the two parts I knew I was going to write. I might continue the stiry for option three when I have time

Our Love Is God-⁉️I’ll only be writing for this when I have the time. It’s not an obligation and only something I’ll turn to when I’m like “???huh. Got nothing better to do rn!”

RISING SUN- ⁉️ I know. I know I haven’t updated since 2019 and some of you guys really like this story. I like it, too, and I do plan on continuing it, but goodness gracious do I have to be in the right mindset to write this. Like, come on, it’s a fantasy fluff fic with a made up language, it’s not the easiest thing to write. I do have some plot ideas in mind as well, but I don’t have the whole story fleshed out. I will get to it though. Eventually.

Reread Me- ✅ basically this was a request I turned into a fic. The request was for “Yandere!Aizawa x School Nurse!reader, NSFW pls” and that’s what I did. I don’t plan on delving further into this plot. I surely could and will write more of yandere!Aizawa but this story is over, bro.

Like Ghosts In Snow- ✅ This is completed and I don’t plan on continuing it. I might do random off oneshots for the series, but that’ll be on my own accord.

Fate’s Kiss-⁉️

How Not To Marry a Demon Lord-⁉️

Red Scarf-✅ I do have a request for a continuation that I may get to, but for now I’m satisfied with saying that it’s completed.

You’re All Mine-✅ The story ended with the reader going back to Dabi y’all. No mas. It was literally the first thing I ever wrote and I’m happy with knowing that it’s over since it’s pretty much a train wreck lol.

A SWEET BOY-⁉️

DANCING’S NOT A CRIME (UNLESS YOU DO IT WITHOUT ME)-❌ I’m gonna be real, sport. This was a just-for-fun thing I started when I first got into writing. I didn’t expect people to read it, I didn’t expect it to get popular, I didn’t expect it to be anything. When I started it, I didn’t know how quirks worked, so I made the reader an overpowered Mary-Sue. I also had a bit of a direction for the fic at first but then I let my audience influence how things turned out. I started feeling very iffy about the fic and updates became a huge hassle. The last time I updated, even after it was difficult for me to get it out, people made comments about not liking how things were going. I felt under appreciated and this fic became a stab in my chest. Add that in with people complaining and asking so many times when the next update was going to be, I decided that I would be happier if this shit just stopped. Sorry guys. No mas.

THE FOREST- ✅

Yandere Neko!Shinsou- ✅⁉️ As far as I know, it’s done. I could probably write more, but let’s be real, I cursed it by using the term “tiny pants.” Also, no offense but being berated with “part 2? Pt. 2 pls,,,, part 3???” makes me not want to write anything

The Kiss of Death- ✅this was JUST a one shot. Please see rule #9

Rules For This Blog. The “Please Do Not’s”

These are not the Rules For Requests, but some of them are related.

Please do not berate or spam me with the same ask over and over again. I’ve had people cloud my inbox with multiples of “bloop” or “how many followers do you have?” and like??? If I hadn’t answered you the first couple times, I’m not going to answer you the fifth or sixth time. Please be chill. I announce my follower milestones when it’s relevant and your spam becomes my followers’ spam if I answer every nonsensical thing sent my way. I’m sorry if this seems mean.

Please try to keep asks BNHA related seeing as this is a BNHA blog. I’ll answer personal questions, sure, and I’ll partake in some asks games, however, if you want to strike up a conversation, my PMs are open. I’m not always the best at replying but I do try to get to them on my own time!

No transphobia, homophobia, ableism, racism, or religious call outs of any sort. I want this to be a safe space for all people. If I didn’t know something might be ableist or racist or anything of the sort, I would appreciate being informed about it, and regardless of the intent, I’ll have harmful slander removed for the blog.

Please do not ask me to reblog your posts. I’ve been taken advantage of in the past, and I don’t appreciate it.

Please keep overly sexual or sensitive content out of my ask box. I know I’ve written quite a bit of promiscuous and down right nasty shit, but when I do that, I can at least tag warnings and such for people who don’t want to see the big nasty. It’s only respectful to consider my boundaries, as well as the people who follow my blog’s boundaries. If there’s a not safe for work topic you wish to discuss, again, my PMs are open.

No discourse. No cartoon politics. Whether you are pro or anti characters or ships, whatever, those are not topics of discussion I wish to have in this blog.

Do not request when requests are not open??? I’m sorry, but it’s literally in my bio when requests are open. when requests are open, I put it in my bio as well as the “ask” option that requests are open?? Read people’s bios, dude!

I’m really sorry about this one, but no emergency comfort requests. I’ve gotten at least five and my heart goes out to you guys with problems and like,, I want to help but this is seriously stressful to me. I want to help you, I want you guys to be okay, but I can’t be responsible for that. Like, GOD, I want to help you but as soon as I get an emergency comfort ask I’m like?! Full panic mode. I think about writing something, anything, to make y’all feel okay, but then I overthink and I can’t get to it, and then I feel like I’ve failed you. That’s not fair to any of us.

“Part 2 pls.” Listen. LISTEN. OH MY GOD. there’s nothing that compares to working hard on a oneshot, and getting so excited to see someone comment or send in an anon and it’s literally just “part 2 pls”. God. It means a lot that you liked something enough to see more of it but fffff writers are working hard to get this shit out for you for free and “part 2 pls” should not be acceptable. I’m sorry. There are better ways of telling writers that you liked their work enough to see a continuation. Be considerate dude. Also, appreciate ambiguity a little more. Use your imagination. It’s not that hard.

If you do not agree with some of the unconventional things I write, don’t read it?? Get out?? Leave??? Nothing you say to me will sway me away from writing the shit that I want to write. I simply use the characters of BNHA as a medium for the stories I choose to write. They’re fictional, and I do not support a lot of the shit that goes down on my writing, not irl. There’s a difference between fantasy fiction and real life. If you knew who I was in real life, you’d know how angry I am at the disgusting trash in the world. That doesn’t affect my writing though. Writing is a coping mechanism for me. I do my best at tagging the horrible things I might get to in my fics/one shots, so if you’re reading whatever the fuck I’ve done with an intent in being angry??? Take a bath, maybe eat some bread, and think of another way to expend your energy, dawg. I’m going to ignore you otherwise.

[mystic-kitten-writer]

Limerence [M] ︳08

Pairing: Zuko x OC

Genre: Romance, mainly fluff with future smut, and if you squint hard enough - you’ll find some angst.

Rating: SFW

Words: 4100+

Notes: AHH - so this is by far one of my favourite chapters. Realistically, I’m well aware that there are plenty of well-written chapters, far better than this one, especially when I reflect on my newer writing. But this is the first chapter where my inner thirst slightly peaked through and I knew - I had to write smut in the near future. It’s also the chapter in which the plot thickens...I hope you enjoy loves <3

Masterlist ︳07 ︳09

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

Limerence: (English/n.) the state of being infatuated with another person.

The moment their eyes locked they knew - the flames within him twisted while the water within her turned. It was a connection, a connection that would lead to love, adventure, and drama.

Sphallolalia

(Greek/n.) Flirtatious talk that leads nowhere.

~ Ying Yue Jiang ~

            The hot water felt pleasing against my skin, as my muscles relaxed and all of the excitement from the day seemed to melt away. The room was steamy, and I could barely see Suki and Toph who sat across from Katara and me. Suki and Katara sipped away on their glasses of wine, along with me, while Toph sat at the edge of natural hot spring, a beer in hand. We drunkenly giggled away as we gossiped amongst ourselves. Only the dim lights from the candles lit the room, as well as whatever light the stars cast through the glass walls and ceiling. It was a beautiful room and a perfect way to end one hell of a day.

            Katara lazily rested her head upon my shoulder, “I'm sorry for everything…” she whispered once again for the hundredth time this day. I rested my head upon hers, “Don’t worry. I know you meant well. Everything worked out in the end, right?” It was true; everything did seem to work out in the end, although that statement did seem to undermine the number of things that suddenly had to be done. The moment I accepted my Imperial Consort Seal it set in motion an entire list of tasks and responsibilities.

            Right away Zuko sent a hawk back to the Fire Nation, with word to prepare a celebration for our arrival. He explained to me that it was a tradition to celebrate, but especially so in this case since it was unexpected and it served as a relief for the council. But, I was more eager to tell the gang of the news, but in the end, I ended up being the surprised one. It turned out that this was something Zuko had talked over with everyone, so it wasn’t much of surprise as it was for me. Regardless, everyone was ecstatic that I agreed, as there was a consensus that it was the only way for us to move forward with our relationship, whatever that relationship was.

            Although, the real treat was finally reconnecting with Katara. After a magnitude of apologies, we ended up hugging everything out. And thankfully, she was happy knowing that Zuko and I managed to figure something out. So glad, that she insisted on a spontaneous girls night to celebrate, which lead us to where we were now. A bit tipsy and relaxing in the hot springs late at night. The best way to end a day…

            “How do you think Dad will be once I leave?” I asked Katara. She lifted her head off my shoulder and smiled, “He will be fine. A little sad to see you go, but I'm staying behind, remember? I'll keep an eye out for him.” I smiled and let my free hand play with the water, taking in the warmth. It was bizarre to think that this will be some of the few moments I'll have here, in the Southern Water Tribe. Yet, the thought of venturing out was thrilling; I would finally be free, and experience things I only dreamed. But more importantly, I would be with Zuko. Gosh, I'm such a romantic.

            “So Fire Nation Royalty, have you two consummated yet?” Suki said with a giggle. I was certain I looked completely bugged eyed as I almost spat out my wine. Toph burst out laughing, hearing me cough as I choked. “Suki!” I cried out, flushed. “I just said we aren’t dating, let alone doing that!” Toph snorted, “You don’t need to be in a relationship to do that, Princess.” Toph said so matter of factly that I could feel my mouth drop. Suki giggled and gave me a look, a look that meant that we all drank a little too much, well at least these three ladies.

            I could feel myself shrink farther and farther into the water, wondering how we always managed to make it to the topic of sex, or anything related to that field. I could see Katara also blushing madly, “Gosh, shouldn’t that stuff remain private.” Katara muttered as she sipped away on her wine. I giggled; Katara indeed was the definition of a prune. Although I wasn’t as laxed as Suki or Toph, I wasn’t naïve. How could I be a naïve liking Zuko? Just remembering the playful banter between us two caused me to smile, but the way his fingers delicately danced on the skin of my neck…

            “So you are telling me, that you never wondered, not even a tiny bit, about how the guys are in bed?” Suki questioned Katara. I snapped myself awake; I'm thinking a bit too much about Zuko’s fingers. Katara shook her head, “N-no! You nasties, one of them is my brother, and I'm dating the other!” Katara said quickly.

            “Hello, you still got Zuko!” Suki retorted back.

            Katara was the one who looked bugged eyed this time, “My sister likes him, I can’t fantasize about him!” I giggled, and playfully bumped in Katara’s shoulders, “Don’t worry I'll tell you how he is for you.” I said kittenishly. Suki burst out laughing, along with Toph, proud that I was partaking in this conversation, the wine has officially taken over. “Told you so, give it like, three days tops, and you’ll find the information you need Katara,” Toph said between fits of laughter. Katara groaned loudly and took another large gulp of wine. “What do you mean three days tops?”

            Suki rolled her eyes, “Come on; even Katara can tell that it just a matter of time.” I blushed, but before anything more could be said, we were distracted by the sound of a door opening and closing shut. Aang waltzed into the room, and quickly started to bend the steam away from himself, “You guys seem to be enjoying yourself.” He started as he watched us giggle away like a bunch of children. “What’s got you girls all giggly?” Aang asked, curious.

            Within seconds Katara stood up, although it was clear she was struggling to keep herself balanced. “Absolutely nothing interesting.” She said quickly, a bit too quickly. Aang raised a brow and walked towards Katara, holding her steady. Suki rolled her eyes and took a small sip from her wine, “I thought it was interesting…I think he will be rough.” Suki said with a very obvious wink towards me. I could see Aang stiffen as his face redden, and not from the steam in the room, “Rough?” Aang repeated hesitantly. It turns out Katara isn’t the only prune here. Katara blushed and gripped her head tightly, “I think we drank a bit too much…” She groaned.

            Aang helped Katara out of the hot spring, and with one swift motion, pushed all the steam aside to one corner of the room, “Sorry to be the party pooper, but I’m pretty sure being drunk and near water screams for trouble.” He said as he helped Katara dry off and wrap a towel around her. Here comes Dad mode; in three…two…one… 

            “Suki, I'm going to get Sokka to help you. Yue, I'm getting Zuko. And Toph stay put, I'll come after I put Katara in bed.” Toph waved her hand, dismissing Aang’s orders, and stood up. She wrapped a towel around her shoulders as she reached over to grab one last beer, “I'm fine, it's these lightweights here that are going to need the help.” With that, she walked out the door, off to her bedroom most likely. I swear this girl could drink a barrel and be unfazed.

            Quickly, I stood up and grabbed my towel, “Don’t worry Aang, I'm fine!” I said hastily. The last thing I wanted was Zuko to come and see me in my bathing suit. Any other day I couldn’t care less, but after that conversation, I prefer to save myself the embarrassment. Aang looked over me hesitantly, before nodding his head in defeat and dashing out the door with Katara.

            I looked over to see Suki was also out the water and drying herself off, “I'm not drunk.” Suki grumbled under her breath. I laughed and began walking towards the door, “You know Aang…” I said as I opened the door. Suki huffed and trailed behind me, “I swear, between Aang and Katara, who needs parents?” I nodded my head in agreeance, a more accurate state than that has never been said.

            We walked out of the room and began walking down the hallway to our bedrooms, and I could see Sokka jogging towards us. “Aang said you were a bit tipsy.” He said with a grin as he swiftly grasped Suki’s arm to keep her steady. Suki rolled her eyes but held onto Sokka nevertheless, “I'm not drunk, just a little bit happy.” She said. Sokka chuckled and shook his head, “You sound like me. That means you are drunk.” I snickered as we continued walking down the hallway.

            “And you didn’t drink?” Sokka said as he gazed over to me.

            “I drank a little bit, but not as much as those three. I have a reputation to uphold now.” I grumbled, which was not exactly a lie. Sokka nodded his head, understanding what I meant. Now with my new title, there were a bunch of do’s, and dont’s that I had to adhere. Public intoxication was a huge no-no. Sokka opened his bedroom door open and helped Suki walk in. I turned to head to my bedroom, but Sokka’s voice stopped me, “Hey Yue…” He trailed off. He never calls me Yue…

            I turned around and smiled, “What’s up?” Sokka smiled and bashfully looked at his feet, “I'm sorry about everything that happened. I should have stepped up.” I looked up at him surprised, “It was just a big misunderstanding. We are all happy- I'm happy, trust me.” I said softly. Sokka looked up and smiled, “I'm just glad everything worked out in the end. And if you need anything let me know, you know we got your back-” I could hear Suki crash into a wall from inside the bedroom. We both looked at each other, and slowly large grins started to appear. I couldn’t help but laugh as Sokka scratched his head, “Let me re-phrase, we always got your back starting tomorrow. Tonight is a no-go.”

            I smiled and bid him goodnight, feeling slightly sorry for Aang and Sokka, they’re definitely going to have one hell of a night. I went inside my bedroom, and in a matter of minutes, I had already washed up and prepared for the night. The wine slowly starting to take effect, and a sense of sleepiness beginning to overcome me. I should really start having a glass of wine before bed; it's better at making me sleepy than tea… I sat at my vanity and began mindlessly brushing my hair. Mid stroke, a soft knock stopped me. My eyebrows pinched together, and I gazed towards the door, who would knock at this hour of the night, did Sokka or Aang need help? I placed my brush down and quickly slipped on my robe, before opening the door.

            “Zuko?” I said surprised. Zuko leaned against my doorframe, undoubtedly dressed for bed as well. His black hair was let loose and fell down his shoulders. I really need to get hair advice from this man… He smiled softly, “I didn’t wake you, did I?” He asked. I nodded my head, “No, I was getting ready for bed. You need something?” I asked as I tied my robe. Zuko stood up straight and scratched the back of his neck, “I was wondering if you can come to my room for a minute. I want to show you something before you go to bed.”

            I titled my head to the side and made a mental note, maybe a little bit of time away from Suki and Toph would do me good, as the moment Zuko asked me to go his room I immediately went straight to the dark side. I blushed slightly, taken off guard at his question and Zuko chuckled, “Not like that, I mean unless you want to, then, by all means, you are welcomed.” Zuko teased. I slapped his arm and pushed him back to step out in the hallway, “Well, when you ask someone to go to your bedroom in the middle of the night what else are they suppose to think?” I shot back.

            Zuko laughed and directed me towards his room, “Maybe…this?” He finished off as he opened the door. My eyes widened the moment I took in at exactly what Zuko had wanted me to see. Zuko had lit the small fireplace that was placed off in the corner in his guest room, and on top of the coffee table were two mugs, hot cocoa. There were blankets set on the couch directly across the fireplace, and I couldn't help but be completely overwhelmed with happiness. “You did…this…for me?” I asked, speechless.

            Zuko gently nudged me forward to the couches, before shutting the door closed behind him. “You don’t think me giving you that Imperial Seal was your gift, do you? I had to make it up to you somehow, and something told me that anything with hot cocoa was a safe route.” I must have looked like a child because I couldn’t help but clap in excitement as I observed the tasty drinks, “And you made it yourself?” I asked.

            “Well…I tried the first time, and that didn’t go so well. So I asked Lia and Kima for some assistance.” I laughed and slowly walked over to Zuko, gently placing my hands on his chest, “Thank you, I truly mean it.” I said tenderly as I looked at his eyes. Gosh, I could get lost in those eyes… Zuko smiled warmly, as he nudged his head over to the couch, “Let’s relax. Aang told me you and the girls had a bit of fun tonight. Hopefully, this can sober you up a bit.”

            I groaned and waltzed over to the couch with Zuko. “I'm not drunk, why is Aang such a worry wart,” I whined. Zuko plopped on one end of the couch while I sat on the other end, but Zuko patted his lap. I titled my head, confused, “Put your feet up; you are freezing, I can warm you up.” He said. I blushed, but at this point, I was too tired to argue. I raised my legs and let them lay across the couch, letting my feet rest on Zuko’s lap. He quickly tossed the thick blankets over us, before handing me my cup. It was the library all over again, except this time, there was no speculation about our feelings.

            I sipped away blissfully on the drink, as I felt the way Zuko’s hand delicately drew random shapes and lines on my ankles, warmth radiating off his hands. His fingers were so light as if he was afraid that he would burn my skin, but his touch was tempting. I smiled and let my head fall against the side of the couch, just basking in his touch. It felt so right, sitting here, with him, enjoying the night. It was crazy to think that just moments ago I wanted nothing to do with him.

            “Enjoying yourself?” Zuko said with a chuckle. I hummed softly and smiled at him, “You’re going to make me fall asleep at this rate.” I said with a light laugh. Zuko shook his head and smiled largely, “You just got here! We didn’t even talk.” I grinned and took another sip, “So what do you want to talk about so eagerly?” I said playfully. Zuko laughed and continued doodling aimlessly on my ankle. “Hm, there’s so much I still don’t know about you.” Zuko stared. I raised a brow at him, “Is that so? What could you possibly want to know?” I asked curiously, interested as to what he would want to know about me.

            “Hm, your bending…or that tattoo of yours…” Zuko spoke delicately.

            “You have to pick one or the other. Like I said before, I have to have one secret.” I said mischievously. Zuko laughed and shook his head, “Tell me about your bending, I’ll eventually see that tattoo of yours.” He said confidently. So confidently, it took me a minute to realize what he was implying. I raised a brow, “See my tattoo eventually? Someone here sounds quite confident in that statement.”

            Zuko grinned, “You aren’t as naïve as I thought.” He spoke as he took a sip from his cup. I huffed and placed my mug down, “What made you think I was naïve?”. Zuko chuckled deeply, different from his usual light-hearted manner. “Because it’s easy to tease you-” He started. Although I could feel his hand slowly trail up my leg.

            “Easy to make…” - his hand gently caressed my calf.

            “you…” - he leaned over just a bit, close enough that I could see his golden eyes darken.

            “blush.” He finished, his hand stopping right at my knee.

            My face was rosy, entirely overwhelmed by him. My heartbeat was going crazy, unknowingly responding to every word and every touch. He has me wrapped around his fingers, and he knows it, oh, Zuko knew all too well what he was doing. As gentle and sweet as he was with me, he always managed to have this sense of power. Zuko was always in control, being dominant, even times where he was ‘relaxing,’ he was always a step ahead. It was evident this was how Zuko was born; born to be a leader, command attention. And as shameful as it was to admit, I loved it. Every single second of it. I may be sweet, but I was never one to submit, but if Zuko oh so dared told me to do so, I would ultimately come undone.

            I bite my lip anxiously, trying desperately to control my heavy breathing. Was it the wine, or maybe I want a taste of those pouty lips. Zuko smirked and calmly pulled back. Leaning his back once again against the couch, fingers dancing along my ankles; as if nothing had happened. But I could still see the satisfied smirk that played along with his lips; he wasn’t an idiot, he knew all too well what he was doing and how it was affecting me. I realized that although I wasn’t naïve, I was an untouched delicacy to him.

            I lifted the blankets and snuggled tightly against them, pressing them close to my body. And I thought I could play his game of teasing; this asshole has me beat! Zuko chuckled amused, watching me struggle to think of my next plan of action. “Would you like to go to the market with me tomorrow?” He casually asked, trying to save my pathetic ass. Is this guy really going to act like nothing happened? I smiled sweetly and squirmed underneath the blankets, but to fair, I should be thankful he is ignoring the obvious...

            “I wouldn’t mind…I have to go shopping anyways.” I said, softer then I attended, realizing that the wine was truly starting to wear me down. Feeling the warmth from his touches and the fireplace, I felt cozy and content. “Shopping for what?” Zuko asked. I leaned against the couch once again, gently closing my eyes. “For your family…I want to buy something for your Uncle, Mom, Step-Dad, and your little sister…” I mumbled. I didn’t need to have my eyes open to tell he was surprised, “You don’t have to do that.” I groaned and shook my head, “I want to…I want them to like me.” I said softly.

            Sleepiness was starting to take over, gosh, from giggles to flirting, to sleeping? I need to stop drinking wine... Zuko sighed and gently patted my leg, “They are going to like you, trust me. What is there not to like?” He asked. I shrugged my shoulders, too tired to argue, as I tucked the blankets under my chin. “I don’t know…” I trailed off. Zuko chuckled and gently shook me, “Are you falling asleep?” Zuko asked quietly, I could feel the shift in weight, as he was most likely leaning over me.

            I nodded my head and let out a pleasant hum, “Let me take you to your room…” Zuko started, but I groaned in annoyance. And to be honest, I don’t know what happened next. At that point, I let the wine do its thing. Whether or not Zuko got me back to my room or not, will remain a mystery until tomorrow. I never felt cozier in my life, just cuddled up on the couch with Zuko’s warm faint touches. I felt safe, and within seconds I was off to dreamland…I can freak out in the morning…

~ Unknown ~

            His eyes were heavy, as they fluttered open and closed, sleepiness trying desperately to consume him. Slapping his leg, he shook his head, knowing better than to fall asleep on the job. He had one task, and one only, keep at eye out for anything unusual. Whatever that meant, was left to the unknown. For days, he and a few other men stayed crouched in the bushes, staying hidden as they observed day and night. It was clear that tonight was going to be like any other night, wholly uneventful and fruitless.

            Just as his eyes were about to flutter shut once again, he caught sight of it. A majestic bird, wearing clothing probably more expensive than his own, soaring through the air. It was clear the bird was tired, as the bird was gliding through the air lowly, rather than high into the night sky. All sense of tiredness left the man’s body, and suddenly he realized that this was the unusual thing he was meant to keep an eye out. “Pst, up there!” He whispered harshly to his partner, whose eyes quickly shot open upon hearing the news that they may have caught something. “Well don’t just stare at it! I'll catch the damn thing, and you go notify the boss!” He grumbled back, stumbling quickly to his feet.

            The man nodded, and he quickly scrambled to their boss. He barely took a few steps before he could hear his partner’s glorified cheer, “Easier then I thought, the poor bastard was hungry.” The man said behind him, as he quickly ran with the Hawk in a net. He could hear the bird desperately trying to fly away, realizing that the fruits were bait, but it was pointless.

            They knew they reached home-base, as it was a damp cave, completely isolated and well hidden from people. Although everyone knew the chances of running into people here would be close to impossible, no one lived on these islands for years since the genocide. “Boss, we found something!” The man shouted. Right away everyone in the cave went silent, as they turned to face her.

            She stood up from her seat and hastily walked towards the men. It was a common fact that you never speak to her unless granted permission. Therefore, whatever news these men had, better be good. ��Found what?” She hissed out. The man pointed behind him, towards his partner who gripped the bird, but more importantly, the letter attached to the bird. “It was a messenger hawk.” The man spoke. Her eyes narrowed, examining both men and the bird before she outstretched her hand. Without hesitation, they dropped the note on her palm, and she eagerly read the letter.

            Her eyes widened before a playful smile danced upon her lips. “Attach the note back, and let it resume its travels. Everyone else, get ready to leave.” She shouted quickly. No one dared question her authority as everyone scrambled to their feet and began packing to depart. Her attention reverted to the two men standing in front of her, “Guess you aren’t as useless as I thought.” She hummed.

            Both men looked at her, bowing and giving thanks, despite the back-handed compliment. They knew it could have been worse. “Where are we going to?” One of the men asked; a bold question given who he was asking it to. Her eyebrow raised slightly, amused that he would dare speak out of term, “It’s time to make our move…and I think a few people would love to join.”

            The man was confused by what she meant by make our move, but before he could ask more, she turned on her heel and left. Although, it was probably a good thing, given that she wasn’t known to be patient, and when annoyed, she often killed.

Copyright © 2019 Mystic-Kitten, inc. all rights reserved. No reposting, modifying, or translations of any kind allowed. Thank you for your cooperation.

Disclaimer: I do not own any Avatar characters portrayed in this story besides Ying Yue Jiang, Lia, Kima, and any future creations.

❤ Buy me a coffee? ❤

[moxy-fruitbat]

I am back from the forest! - Muriel Reflections (long post w/ pics)

I'm home! I got to spend a week living the Muriel Life© and let me tell you

I LOVED IT.

I usually go backpacking every year, but this is the first time I went alone and there really was a lot of good time on reflection, especially now that I've started playing the Arcana. It was a real immersive experience and really got me thinking about what Muriel must feel living out there full time.

So welcome to Mountain Man Reflections - things the forest taught me

For context, I spent a week backpacking through Michigan's National Parks that I hadn't already been to. I visited Sleeping Bear Dunes Lakeshore, Manistee National Forest, Father Marquette Memorial, Keewenaw Heritage Area, and Isle Royale National Park. That last one is the most remote park in the continental US.

1. I knew this before from other experiences, but the forest lets you be free with your emotions. You can cry in the woods. The trees don't care. You can literally scream into the void and nothing will answer back, but feeling the breeze in your face and the sun on your skin makes you realize that the earth still spins and nature continues to live on. And so will you. You will survive.

Muriel: you will survive. I can imagine that when he first left Vesuvia and went into the forest, there was a lot of raw emotion. I've survived trauma, but never anything like how he has. It was probably very healing to get away from everything and start over in a world that doesn't judge you for your past.

2. Being alone is lonely. Now, I'm an introvert. But having no one to share thoughts or ideas or moments with is hard. Everything emotion stews around in your head and builds and gets stronger. There were times I said something that may have been slightly embarrassing to the only other person in the area, and it just built and built to the point where I was isolating myself even more because "no one wants to listen to you anyway. You only say stupid things that you should just always keep to yourself." Nature can be healing when you need it, but isolation can be painful when you don't.

Now, imagine Muriel in the first year of freedom. He may or may not have Inanna, I'm not sure when she comes into play. He has Asra, but Asra is always gone and is busy trying to reconstruct MC.

He's overcome the first wave of pain. He knows he will get through this. But isolation breeds isolation and the longer he's alone the more alone he feels and the more he feels like he deserves this isolation and that no one wants him. There's no one there to try and convince him otherwise. He builds up more and more walls because all he has is his own thoughts, and that's honestly all he's had entire life. He is a product of his situation. He needs love.

3. You learn to appreciate the little things. A pretty view. The deep blue of the water. The crinkling of the leaf litter as you walk through the trees. How good food tastes after a hard day or a cold night. You can't take things for granted when all of your belongings are what's strapped to your back.

The forest is alive. The planet is alive. It makes you feel so small and connected to everything else around you. It isn't yours to claim amd train to do what you want. You live within your means only use what you need because everything else isn't yours to take.

Muriel lives in his tiny hut. He could probably build a wooden cabin that has more space and is taller so he doesn't have to worry about brushing his head on the tree root ceiling, but why? He would need to chop down trees and change the landscape. He could build a coop and have his chickens actually live with him so he has easier access to his food, but why? Instead he forages for food and lets the chickens roam free. They have their own life to live, and it isn't his to control. Muriel is definitely a huge environmentalist.

4. The world is beautiful, but it feels better to share it with someone. I took so many pictures of those little things. And granted, it was great hiking alone. I didn't have to change my plans for anyone, I could do whatever I wanted to do and go where I wanted to go. But watching the sunrise is better with someone else, so you can be flooded with emotions next to someone else doing the exact same thing.

Muriel would probably love having the tender moments alone with his LI. Watching them gasp at their first beautiful sunset through the trees, or smile sleepily as they watch the summer fireflies together. Making flower crowns for someone, since he probably feels like he can't make them for himself ("he doesn't deserve that level of softness").

4. I need to go back. There's a reason I go on a big hiking trip every year. I can't go back into the "real world" for too long without feeling like I'm stifled and crowded and breathing in bad air. It's a type of escapisim, and while I don't know what exactly I'm escaping, I know I feel more at home in nature, where I can put my hands on a tree and thank them for letting me into their home.

"The mountains are calling and I must go" - John Muir

If you romance Muriel and have the spring wedding, be prepared to live in the forest and move into the hut. You can pull the man put of the forest, have him live in Vesuvia in the magic shop with you. But you can never pull the forest out of the man. It changes you, and once you spend enough time in the wilderness, it's really hard to go back to urban life. (Ask anyone who hiked the Appalachian Trail. I know I'm not the only one who feels this way.)

(Especially because Muriel probably only has negative memories of Vesuvia - growing up on the streets, being in the colosseum, partaking in the ritual. And all those people make him claustrophobic. It doesn't matter how much he loves you, it would be very hard for him to be happy here. You can't love someone out of their mental illness, in this case PTSD.)

Thank you for reading that whole thing. My modern Muriel Hiker headcanons will be coming soon. Here are some forest pictures that I'd like to share with you :)

(That's the hut that I stayed in for a night, plus me and the hut lol. I'm gross in that picture and hadn't showered for like five days. The forest doesn't care how nasty you are. You learn to accept being gross. Everyone permanently smells bad after long distance hiking.)

Beautiful places like this still exist. I encourage everyone to go out and experience it while they still can.

With love,

Moxy

[ladyofhu-blog]

R. Kelly and the Social Identity Theory

We all know about the chilling stories about R. Kelly that women have recently come forth with pertaining to his sick and twisted love life, but let’s get into how he’s the perfect example of the Social Identity Theory.

In case you haven’t seen the docuseries, “Surviving R. Kelly,” that aired on January 3, 2019, here’s a brief overview of the issues and stories that were discussed:

-      In the beginning of R. Kelly’s singing career, he referred to himself as the “Pied Piper of R&B.” During this time R. Kelly spent his afternoons hanging out at high schools to decide on which girls he will approach. The nickname “Pied Piper” derived from a German fable about a rat catcher that lured children away from their families through the power of his music. So, during the time that R. Kelly referred to himself as the “Pied Piper of R&B,” he convinced girls, as young as the age of 12, that by working with him in his recording studio they’d be rich and famous singers just like him. These girls distanced themselves from their families almost instantly to chase their dreams.

-      He proceeds to move a queen-sized mattress into his recording studio without any explanation to his colleagues… and apparently no questions asked by them either.  All of the young girls that he lured in began to spend numerous hours of alone time with R. Kelly in the studios… and we all know what happened next.

-      He completely brainwashed these girls into believing that having sex with him was necessary to achieve their goals. They never came forward with their sexual assault stories because they believed that speaking out against him would ruin their dream careers.

-      Not only did he brainwash the girls, but he also paid these girls off when they threatened to speak out against him. He paid the girls and their families to keep his secrets and not expose any of his sex tapes with the adolescent girls.

-      R. Kelly started dating Aaliyah while she was only 12, and he married her when she turned 15.

-      After being one of the other girl’s firstsexual partner, she was diagnosed with an STD. This led to her being paralyzed, hospitalized and in the intensive care unit for two weeks.

-      As if that isn’t bad enough, R. Kelly has several viral videos of him and young girls having sex, but he’s notorious for a video of him urinating on one of his girls.

-      He’s gotten away with decades of similar situations with over 10 girls. He’s also forced the girls and women to have intercourse with multiple other people in the room. One woman reports having a fourteen year old girl present while she was having sexual intercourse with R. Kelly.

-      R. Kelly currently has girls with him who have completely gone missing from the world. They have not spoken to their families, their phones cannot be tracked, they aren’t on any social media platforms, and no one knows where they live… it’s as if they’ve completely vanished.

-      It’s been reported that he’s trained these women to worship him. They greet him like puppies and ask for permission before doing anything (even if it’s something as simple as coming downstairs for water).

Now that all of that is on the table, let’s discuss how this is the PERFECT example of the Social Identity Theory.

The Social Identity Theory states that the idea of the self is composed of two categories: personal characteristics and social role characteristics. Personal characteristics are the things that you define yourself as such as smart, serious, funny, rich, tall, etc. Your social role characteristics are things such as being a son, mother, daughter, musician, Christian, actor, singer, etc. In theory, these two categories combine to make you… you.

In R. Kelly’s situation, he has the world so blinded by his social role characteristics that no one even pays attention to his personal characteristics. Anyone who’s seen R. Kelly’s performances know that he focuses on sexual appeal, and anyone who’s heard his music knows that he makes very explicit songs. There’s nothing wrong with dirty music and “sexy” shows until everyone realizes that his song lyrics were written while he was raping, molesting, and brainwashing adolescent girls. His songs Bump n’ Grind, Sex Me, and Your Body’s Callin’ were all written in the 90s… when he was still going by the “Pied Piper.”  

R. Kelly’s social role characteristics would be musician, songwriter, singer, entertainer, celebrity, icon, and even legend to some people. Those who refer to him as a “legendary and iconic singer” aren’t familiar with the real version of him that’s only revealed to the women who live in his house and in his studio. The girls in the docuseries talk about how when he’s performing, everyone lusts over his sex appeal but never have seen the true monster that he is behind closed doors. The girls explain his personal characteristics as being manipulative, controlling, demeaning, abusive, narcissistic, and an overall nasty person. He makes everyone call him “daddy” and makes sure that everything they do is with him in mind. He sees himself as some kind of king/leader/God, and having young, naïve girls to cater to him feeds into his ego. Because he constantly has people to worship him and praise his every move, his idea of his self if even more inflated. The last part of the Social Identity Theory says that the way that people identify themselves is derived from the members within their social group. Since his group is filled with men, who don’t see an issue in his attraction to teenagers, and women, who think that he’s someone of high power, he will continue to partake in these sick activities.

[toxintouch]

Kinktober speedrun time! Used the Mirror prompt on this list. Thank you for the inspo! Further details below the cut so that the above the cut stays safe for anyone who is just scrolling through!

18+ Content MDNI || Dom!Reader x Leander

PROMPT/KINK(S): Dom!Reader, Mirror Use. Edging/Orgasm Denial + Light Degradation & Name calling (Leander being referred to as a dog but he’s really into it, promise) + Power Exchange & Sub/Dom Dynamics

OTHER INFO: Leander has a dick, anatomy of Reader/POV Character remains unspecified; "they" pronouns used.

Leander has the straight backed posture of a man who was given etiquette lessons.  His mannerisms speak of wealth and class, yet they can’t help but observe that he looks completely comfortable while down on his knees.

His back muscles flex as he works himself, sweat slipping down his spine, pooling in the dimples just above his ass.  He’s strung tight, the veins in his arms straining as he strokes a quick, even rhythm.  His dick is flushed a painful red, copious amounts of pre-cum dripping down his wrist and splattering onto his thick thighs, some of it even dirtying the floor below when his strokes become too enthusiastic.

(They wonder how best to make him clean it later–he does so love to be ordered to lick up his own mess–but this floor is probably just as filthy as anywhere else in the Wick, despite appearances–and they don’t think they can find it in themself to make use of his mouth again after watching that.)

The full length mirror hanging in front of Leander is a new addition to the room. Something they’d wheedled out of him with nothing but an easy promise, whispered into his ear down at the bar.  It was theirs not a full day later: a polished brass antique with a priceless clear finish.

His back is to them, but they can see everything they need to by gazing at his reflection.

His strokes stutter, faltering, and they watch as his abdominals jump rapidly. His hand makes a few more shaky attempts before he stops himself with a shudder, breathing hard and squeezing his cock at the base to cut off his own orgasm. They give a little hum of approval, waiting.

“Count.”  They prompt, when he fails to remember on his own.  

They watch his throat bob with effort as he swallows, his jaw trembling around his answer.  “Five.”

“Good boy,” they say, their voice flat and unrewarding.  Dismissive. "Guess that Hightown education really paid off for you, huh?" He whines at that, his palms slicking along his thighs, awaiting their instruction.  He glances at them in the mirror, eyes hopeful. “Again,” they prompt, “and keep your eyes on yourself until I tell you.  During, too. You were closing them a lot. It's just you and the mirror until you've earned otherwise.”

Bites his lip, beginning to stroke himself again.

The next edge comes more quickly.

His eyebrows draw up, mouth falling open, back arching.  His cock jumps and this time he falls back onto his hands to keep from giving into temptation.  His eyes travel the length of the mirror, his neck taught with tension as he pants.  They notice his gaze darting along their form for a moment, greedily stealing along their silhouette in the looking glass. A quick glance of the place where their legs are splayed open as they lounge on the bed behind him, toying with themself idly.

He’s back to form so seamlessly, he probably thinks they didn’t even notice. The next number falls out of his mouth without prompting, as if to cover for his earlier sleight.

"..."

“Baby,” he whines, fidgeting without further instruction. His fingers return to his dick when they don't reply, ghosting over his wet, swollen cockhead.  He knows they hate the way that epithet sounds in his voice, the condescending lilt he manages to wrap around the syllables. “Sweetheart. Please, may I–”

“Bad dog,” they admonish.  They don't elaborate–let him figure out for himself which breach of protocol they're scolding him for.

“Again. And if you can’t behave, I’ll have to put you outside.”

18+ Master List | SFW Master List ✦Kinktober Speedrun on Ao3

Consider: this type of power play with yandere!Leander...you watching him when he's usually the one watching you...

[whatdoyouexpectthistime]

I'm just curious to know what you thought of the KBTBB hate that went around a while ago. Some people started hating on KBTBB fan for liking the game and stories when it talks about human trafficking and other senative topics. It was pretty heated and was just curious if you had an opinion on it.

I have opinions on EVERYTHING!

This one is pretty clear cut for me.

KBTBB does have an MC that is effectively trafficked, or sold into slavery, definitely had her life threatened. This is not a premise all people will be able to see past, however, there are a lot of things we accept in fantasy that we would never enjoy or endorse in real life. I’ve played all the KBTBB characters (except Ota, who is just too much into humiliation for my tastes), and I enjoyed much of it.Frustrated by the insipid MC? Sure! But I did enjoy some of it.

This doesn’t mean  I like, approve of, or want to be involved in human trafficking; it doesn’t mean I think sexual consent is okay to remain dubious.

So what does this mean?

It means, that a person who directs hate at another over the fiction they choose to enjoy, which harms no one, which forces no one else to partake thereof, and which -as fantasy- does not necessarily represent the real values of an individual, is truly the person due for criticism. And honestly, even if it DID reflect a person’s values, let’s try to reserve the vehemence of our judgement for those who act upon evil thoughts - because unless you’ve never had a nasty thought - oh and I HAVE - then you’d better put that stone down and step out of that glass house.

Tumblr, the Internet, is a powerful platform for sharing information and ideas, but each person at their keyboard is responsible for, and in control of, what they choose to view. Not a fan of KBTBB and its premises? Don’t play it, and don’t read any fanfiction. It really is pretty basic.

Something I don’t like appears on my dash? Easily dealt with, without the need for purposefully aggravating, or inflicting hurt upon someone who has done nothing to me, nor -to my knowledge- caused actual harm upon anyone else.

So there you have it.

TL:DR

- Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, dislike something sure! Abuse someone for liking what you don’t? That makes you a bully. Boo to you.- Enjoying and indulging in literary fantasy alone doesn’t = supporting societally unacceptable behaviours/practices.- Everyone is in control of what they view - don’t like it? Don’t read it. That offended? Block the user, because if you act willfully to harm someone you’re accusing of causing harm, you’re just a dirty hypocrite.

Thank you for asking!

[cocomegara-blog]

Never knew I could feel like this, like I've never seen the sky before

dear lovelies, i apologize for the gap in time since my last posting and today. exciting things are happening in my life! the winter was bleak and the cabin fever forced me to come to terms with issues in my past i was running from. to all you women out there who have been sexually abused in any way, my heart goes out to you. my own experience has been difficult to cope with, but i’ve found that my community of friends has made it easier to be honest and forgiving towards myself and this experience. there’s something about a nasty break-up, feeling the rejection of love lost, the lingering thought that he doesn’t love me enough to make it though, that brings up this negative ego mindset that continually tells you that you are not enough. but also, being in a relationship after you’ve been a victim of sexual abuse can make you feel safe and secure. when the relationship is over, that sense of security is gone too. lots of times i’ve thought i’m not worthy of real or lasting love because i’m damaged. i don’t really think of myself as damaged now, but there is a deep, dark hole that swallow me up if i let it. in my experience as a rape victim, i walk a fine line of wanting to express myself sexually, sometimes ashamed of my desires, carefully choosing my clothing so i don’t give off the impression “she’s asking for it” when my higher self actually loves my body, longs for human interaction and ravishing, wholesome love and romance. it’s difficult. i have a close guy friend who i was talking to about this one night in my backyard over a couple beers and a roaring fire and he was telling me that if someone doesn’t want to be with you for who you are then they are not worth it. it’s better to be honest. our conversation led to another topic though….and forgive me those of you who are more conservative….but we talked about how my friend is experimental in bed and some thing he enjoys with a female partner is anal play. i felt immediately triggered, but because i was in a safe place with a safe person i could ask him, what about women who have been sodomized and can’t partake in that activity with him. that could be a game changer. there are so many factors to consider when entering into a new relationship. which is ultimately what i’m getting to….i met someone special. when i saw him walking toward me on our first date, i noticed how he carried himself, i felt the warmth in his smile and his gentle demeanor and i knew in that moment that he would be significant. the last few dates had been a disaster, which left me lying to these men that i couldn’t see them because i wasn’t over my ex yet…all so i wouldn’t hurt their feelings. i cry each time. but this time was different. we’ve been honest in getting to know each other and it feels so good. i want badly to let myself fall deeply and madly in love but part of me is very afraid that he could decide that i’m too damaged and not not worth being with. So, I wrote that last section a couple days ago. since then there have been some developments. are there any other old fashioned ladies out there that only date one person at a time and expect that in return? I hope I’m not the only one! So, I’m dating this very nice man. It’s been 3 very romantic dates and much has transpired within that time frame. he’s going through a transition at work and is considering me for his near future plans of moving across the US or across the world…, and also leans on me for support around his difficult transition, wants to come to my brother’s wedding as my date, and he slept in my bed with me and we held each other all night. I thought we would have sex but he stopped me, while I was half naked on top of him. He said, he wants me too but he doesn’t want to rush things and wants to cherish every moment with me. Could this be the real thing?

[nachiroux]

so i wrote up a review/rambling about persona 5

you can either read it [here on twitlonger] or you can read it placed underneath the read more cause its super long and i dont want to make your dashboards gigantic

Persona 5: My Thoughts since it has been consuming my soul for the past few weeks, I thought it was about time I wrote up my thoughts proper on Persona 5 and not just some weird half sentence that I garbled at the bottom of the ocean. i'm not really formatting this much it's gonna be a lot of rambling and a bit scattershot but please bear with me. lets do this in categories and then an overall, shall we GAMEPLAY, THE BATTLE PART: How You Gonna Shoot With A Toy Gun the gameplay of Persona 5 is, well, incredible. it takes the one more system used since Persona 3 and refines it to an absurd degree. while the weaknesses of shadows still kind of don't make sense at all and the guessing game aspect of battles remains, everything else has been improved. battles are really, really fast and super satisfying. attacks look good and snappy, and nothing feels like it's dragging too long. but what Persona 5 adds to this mix that really puts it over the edge is demon negotiation. not only does it bring some of the most interesting aspects from Shin Megami Tensei proper into Persona (using your enemies as your new strength), it also gives a lot more value and strategy to knocking dudes down. in P3 and P4 your party members would ask "hey we gonna all out attack fam" and there was never really a time you would say no because, why? but in P5, a full knockdown results in a holdup, where you can extract money, items, or the demon itself as a persona out of the mix, as well as being able to just do an all out attack. this is F A N T A S T I C. it enhances a lot of aspects of the battle system, and really makes hitting weaknesses and figuring out what to do more satisfying. and as the icing on the cake, P5 added the baton pass system to battles, making them even more fluid and satisfying. in short, it lets one character, after hitting a weakness, pass their extra turn to another character, while boosting their stats for that attack. it allows for a lot more strategy and creativity, where your whole team can contribute. some of the most fun I've had with turn based battles. GAMEPLAY, THE RUNNING PART: I Gotta Have Me A Good Steal one of the more lackluster portions of Persona games was wandering around in dungeons, whether it be a giant tower to the moon or some bathhouse. outside of visual elements, they all bled together. floors were randomly generated to some extent, and you just wandered around, grabbing some items and fighting shadows that randomly spawn. it was serviceable, but nothing spectacular. P5 takes this and cranks everything up to 11 million. proper dungeons are now actually designed experiences, with shadows and layouts specifically made for each dungeon. every dungeon has its own mechanics and style that plays up the unique aspects of the person whose heart you're traipsing around on. but the biggest change is the way your character moves. with a full stealth system that's a blast to use, jumping from hiding spot to hiding spot, a lot of P5's dungeons are somewhat stealth oriented. being seen by shadows raises security and makes things harder, and if you're seen too much you gotta bail. but through ambushing enemies, you can undo the security raises of your mistakes, while also getting the huge advantages of an ambush. as well, being able to climb around the environment, jumping up walls and flipping around just feels and looks great. god damn. and just in case you really miss those randomized dungeons, don't worry! there's a fun and not too long randomized dungeon a la tartarus/midnight channel in the game too! GAMEPLAY, EVERYWHERE ELSE: I Can't Believe This Is Three Parts. Jeez here's where persona 5 doesn't make astronomical leaps and bounds forwards, but just some nice improvements. outside of dungeons/battle P5 follows the Persona formula. everything's on a timetable, and you can do one (1) thing in the day and one (1) thing in the evening, except if you A: are in a story event where for some reason your free time goes missing B: go to a dungeon and can't hire your teacher to give you a massage C: your cat says you're sleepy the overworld of P5 and the various locales in it are pretty interesting and fun to walk around in, but there's a lot of areas that exist solely for hanging out with confidants. if you just play properly though you really don't get much to any use out of them, and that's kind of disappointing for me. I wanted to visit more zones but what we have is very memorable. what P5 adds to the formula is the various boons granted by confidants, most notably Temperance (which you should really max ASAP that's a pro-tip) that will change certain things in daily life and in dungeons, but we'll get to that part later. from giving you access to more jobs, to allowing you more free time in class, to unlocking more fortune telling options, there's a lot of stuff to do. P5 also has a small selection of minigames to pass the time, from B A S E B A L L to F I S H I N G to C R O S S W O R D S and more. what's nifty is each minigame also can serve a practical purpose and raise social stats but we'll get there. the map showing you if confidants will rank up or not is nice, and fast travel is very generous in this game. not much else to say here. I don't get lost so that's nice SOCIALIZING: Who Taught You ___, Nasty Crime Boy ah.... confidants. aka social links, they're the meat of the non-dungeon crawling experience of P5. like in previous games, most major story characters that aren't complete scum or trying to kill you will have confidants, with ranks 1-10. this is where the visual novel/dating sim components show up, and there's not a ton to say here so i'll keep my rambling down to a minimum. each confidant has their own little side story that you partake in when they're free, where you read and then give answers when prompted. it can go as menial as "hey wanna go eat ramen" to "please come with me to help me save a little girl's life." based on your answers, you get points towards the next link. this game does something nifty where when you get points (1-3 notes) there will be a little additional uh, graphic and sound that plays that's kinda subtle but tells you that you have enough points to immediately rank them up again. that's a really good addition. you can romance people too, and you can romance EVERY girl in the game. who cares how much older than you they are just do it loser (don't actually) but here's where confidants change a lot in p5 from past things. in P3 they kinda were just to fuse hot personas, while in P4 they were mainly for that but also unlocked some abilities, but not a ton. mainly party members. in P5, every confidant gives several abilities that will greatly enhance your experience with the game and make your character grow a lot stronger. from giving party members the ability to endure blows and baton pass, as well as recover from ailments, to the even more absurd non party member abilities. some confidants let you swap party members in battle, allow you to breeze through negotiation, get double money, reduce security levels, buy and modify weapons, get free time in class, read fortunes and get bonuses based on that, and so on. this makes (nearly) every confidant not just useful on a "hey man i wanna fuse a good persona" level, it makes them invaluable to your characters growth. it makes the visual novel part much more important, and more enjoyable. plus they're (nearly) all fantastic little stories that flesh out each character and the world around you. lastly and real fast, most confidants will give you a mission to go complete in the other dungeon, mementos, in order to help them through their struggles and advance their story. these minibosses give out a lot of good money, items, and exp, as well as being a fun part of the story and something else to do in mementos. it's neat. oh yeah and confidants are now no longer on such a rigorous schedule like previous games, and a lot more accessible and free flowing. its nice SOCIAL STATS: Eating A Burger Made Me The Perfect Man i'm devoting a whole section to this. buckle up kids. P5 has 5 social stats, knowledge, guts, proficiency, kindness, and charm. each of them has 5 levels of progression. (you start at 1). some stats, like proficiency, give tangible boosts. however, almost all social stats are progressed solely for the sake of starting and advancing confidants. you need X level knowledge to start Y confidant, you need X level proficency to advance Y confidant at rank Z, and so on. raising social stats is accomplished through various overworld activities and whatever, and take up time. however, in order to max all confidants, and most of them honestly, you're going to need rank 5 in every social stat. sure, fine, its a conscious design decision. here are my complaints, notarized 1: first time through, it's not communicated well what activity boosts what, but more importantly how MUCH each activity boosts a stat. 2: while you can check what stage each social stat is at, there is no way to tell how much you've progressed to the next rank. just pour it in and pray. 3: some stats (KINDNESS) are very difficult to raise optimally as they may require rng events to give you the full 3 note boost as opposed to 2 notes. 4: some confidants give you social stats which WOULD be good but they only give you them on rank up. outta here w/that without prior knowledge, your first month or two of P5 is gonna be filled with poor scheduling decisions because how could you know that X activity is actually terrible for raising the stat you want? and since it takes up time (usually an evening slot), it really hurts your confidants overall. with good decisions and scheduling, you can actually max confidant (minus autos that will just progress through plot) with nearly a month to spare, but that waste and sufffering of the start may make you miss out on several confidants. it's a good idea, but still needs work and feels really cheap sometimes. (WHY DO I NEED 5 PROFICIENCY TO HELP A GIRL GARDEN WHAT THE FU) PLOT: Ya'll Wanna Read Some Anime this will be much lighter than the rest because I don't wanna spoil the plot so here's very broad strokes. the plot of Persona 5, overall, is very compelling and enjoyable. it's not perfect by any means, and has its dips in quality (anyone want a burger), but I enjoyed pretty much the whole thing. we'll get into characters separately BUT i found the narrative to be much more engaging than Persona 4 and as compelling as Persona 3. it's much darker than P4, but still maintains moments of levity and fun, even when dealing with serious issues. its take on rebellion, the subconscious, and shadows are all very enjoyable. it does suffer from a few frankly stupid conflicts between party members to build ~drama,~ but 99% of the time interactions between the characters and the world around them are wonderful. a real sense of camaraderie and friendship between the cast is evident and helps shape the narrative. it does suffer from a bit of "wow some of these kids are stupid/lack common sense" but its nowhere to the severity of Persona 4's "gee who is that on the tv gotta wait a week to find out" style stupidity to keep the plot rolling and not solve things instantly, but it will occasionally hit that type of thing. but that's a nitpick as it happens infrequently. to try and not spoil anything, the ending arc does suffer from a bit of P4 syndrome too wherein the last and true conflict kind of comes out of nowhere, but less so this time. it's still something I'll say is a minor problem, but the actual writing and gameplay/moments of the final arc ultimately redeem that. on replay you can see SOME hints but it's not built up enough In My Onion. hope i didnt spoil anything lets move on CHARACTERS: I Was Gonna Type Waifu Wars And Then Jesus Wept again, I will attempt to dance around spoilers here. I feel like the characters of P5, with how much emphasis is placed upon your bonds with them and the existence of the confidant system, deserve their own little writeup. with two exceptions I love every single major character/confidant in the game. one of them has their character arc go up in flames for a bit to stir up ~drama~ but ultimately regains its footing by the end, while the other just sucks. some confidants may be a bit slow to start (DEVIL) but by the end of each confidant i was very attached to each character, and was utterly charmed by them. the main cast are all extremely charming with full-ish character arcs approaching p3 level. in fact, one of my favorite smaller details in the game is the small conversations characters have while driving around in mementos. the writing and character banter is well written and charming, with characters all having their own distinct personality and vibe. this helps the school life portions of the game a LOT, as now school trips and various other events where in other games I cursed them for stealing my free time (mainly p4 but p3 has a few), they're snappy and fun. there's some anime thrown in there so if you can't stand a bit of melodrama and long winded rambling, then some things might not land as much for you as they did for me, but I feel that P5's characters have something for everyone. no matter who you are, you're going to love at least ONE of the many confidants available. ART/SOUND: I Have Listened To Whims Of Fate Over 100 Times And Don't Plan To Stop I'm no art critic and I'm not gonna pretend to be one so I'll keep this short. the art design in P5 is some of the best, if not the best I've ever seen, at least for my tastes. every little aspect of this game is incredibly stylized, from the more dramatic like all out attack finishers, to even the simple things like menus. everything is positively BURSTING with style and personality, all while functioning as a slick and fun interface. and I mean everything. even the text boxes. if you haven't played it, just look up the all out attack compilation. or look at screenshots of the menus. it's really hard to put into words just how happy it makes me. the color scheme of red, black, and white also reminds me a lot of persona 2 and i love you p2 please remake p2 as one complete game package atlus finally, the music. every single persona game (and nearly every megaten game) has a fantastic soundtrack, and this one is no exception. honestly? just go listen to it and see for yourself. the vibe/aesthetic they chose for P5 is one that I don't really have the ability to describe for I am an uncultured fool who plays games all the time, but it is SO good. while I still prefer the P3 soundtrack mainly due to bias, the p5 soundtrack is one of the most solid overall soundtracks in any game. to add to this, the sound DESIGN of p5 is also phenomenal. music changing with the weather, small details of adding instrumentation to a song over time and progression, and the use of leitmotif all really sell the game. the vocals still have a bit of "yeah thats a non native speaker singing english" but the songs are so good and the singing is so good anyways that it doesn't really matter. because its fun here's my p5 song ranking 1: whims of fate 2: with the stars and us 3: nothingness...? 4: days when my mother was there 5: life goes on/rivers in the desert 6: theyre all so good help OVERALL: I Am Erect in summation, this game is really, really, REALLY good. i'll wait for the dust to settle in my soul to rank it properly, but this is easily one of the most enjoyable experiences I've ever had in a video game. the best Persona game easily, and possibly the best SMT/Megaten game as well. this may sound like hyperbole but this game is genuinely everything I've wanted out of an RPG. atlus is really knocking it out of the park lately with SMT4: Apocalypse being one of the best RPGs ever made and now this. i cannot recommend it enough. even if you usually don't enjoy turn based RPGs I still recommend giving it a try. I usually hate visual novels, and I enjoyed every second of my tons of reading. just be warned, this is a longass game. my first playthrough took around 70 hours, and I generally get through games faster than most. ng+ is fun too to send this ridiculously long thing off, I will now proceed to list my top 10 characters of P5 because I love lists. 0-BIAS: Takemi 1: Futaba 2: Sae 3: Sojiro 4: Makoto 5: Yusuke 6: Iwai 7: Chihaya 8: Morgana 9: Hifumi 10: Kawakami GORO AKECHI: Goro Akechi THE WORST ONE: Shinya tl;dr: Persona 5 is one of the greatest games ever made and it made me feel alive thanks for reading everyone, and as a sinful man once said; "Please don't troll me online."