#that would make anyone desperate wouldn’t it

[emptymanuscript]

I feel like one of the most important distinctions you can make is between the personal and the public.

There are things I want, personally, that I should not have because of the negative consequences.

When I am hurt, I want to hit back. This is totally acceptable as a personal feeling. It is not acceptable as a public policy. The monopoly of violence SHOULD belong to the state so that it can’t be used for personal advantage. There’s nothing preventing me in my rage from hitting back infinitely harder than whatever hurt was done to me. An interested party who is operating on pure emotional reactivity is the person least qualified to make the fairest decision. Turning that power over to a bureaucracy is the surest way to make the decision as neutral as it can be because it will move through a process that can’t feel emotions.

I, personally, absolutely want to get a rocket launcher and shoot it through the front door of the Fox news building. Just burn it all. They all fucking deserve to die, down to the cockroaches in the walls for being willing to live with them.

I, as a matter of public policy, absolutely believe that it is the duty of the law and society to protect the people at Fox from ME and my desires. I not only should not be allowed, I should be (and am, for anyone worried) actively prevented from taking any steps toward that desire.

Maturity and civilization both depend on the personal sacrifice of one’s own immediate desires for the sake of a larger and longer term good. Just because I want it doesn’t mean I should have it. It is instead requisite for me to think about the larger implications of fulfilling my desires.

And this can be damn basic. When I first wake up in the morning, I don’t want to get out of bed, feed myself, do all that basic life stuff. I want someone to bring everything to me and make it easy for me. Assuming I don’t just want to go back to sleep. But think about that from a public policy standpoint. That right there is the basis for slavery. So, no, even that very basic and natural desire should not be allowed to grow beyond that tiny little ennui in my heart. I should picture a very tiny violin and get going.

Frankly, personally, I hope every single Trump supporter experiences intense and personal betrayal, suffering until they literally pray to take their vote back because they have suffered so much. And then they should die anyway. Painfully. Pathetically. While I laugh at them. Until the American People reverse the election in sheer desperation for mercy.

And, as a matter of public policy, I know that is not ok. None of it. I’m not ok with the another political faction doing it. And the rules can’t change depending on which political faction is in power, otherwise they aren’t rules. Otherwise no one is ever safer or better off than how we treat the worst person because it’s only the matter of a vote to put someone else in that position.

There, but for a different electoral outcome, go I.

The first link of the chain binds everyone because we CANNOT control the chain.

In some ideal dream world, I would be perfectly in charge of everything and it would go exactly how I want and I could have every little desire AND make sure it didn’t run away from me and have everything prove I was perfectly correct about all my opinions and they would build statues to me because I was such a great and beloved overlord.

And pretty much the exact opposite of that is what you should expect from the real world.

It is NEVER you.

I will NEVER be the sole person in charge pulling all the strings.

No one is EVER the sole person in charge pulling all the strings.

Even absolute dictators have to deal with other powerful people. That’s literally the history of our democratic lineage. Enough powerful nobles forced an absolute monarch to cede them rights in writing for all time and that started the ball rolling to where we are, which none of them anticipated and they wouldn’t be ok with it.

It’s NEVER you. You cannot force the world to live up to your desires. You are ALWAYS in negotiation with everything else.

So you are NEVER safe from or immune to the public policies you press for.

You HAVE to fight for public policies to treat the very worst person with the minimum dignity and respect you feel you should be entitled to because you are NEVER more than a simple redefinition to being the very worst person. The people you love are NEVER more than one rash decision or accident away from suffering all the consequences you want to inflict on those you hate.

Public Policy NEEDS to be us checking our ego at the door and pushing for better than our best selves. Because public policy can enact the vicious impulses of our worst selves with infinitely greater power and horror.

Even for those you HATE, it is all too easy to see atrocities out of your nightmares play out in front of you while you pray to take it back because you didn’t mean THIS. This is too awful. This is inhuman. Because yes, it is. Public Policy isn’t human. It is emergent. And you CANNOT control the emergent properties. You cannot hold back its worst impulses because they’re not just yours.

The best you can do is try to give it all your most reasoned and generous mercy. All you can do is try and peel your pettiness and passions out of that inhuman clockwork in the hope that it won’t devour people if you don’t give it that directive.

Does that mean we can’t feel anger and hatred and fear and all those emotions?

That’s not how being human works. You could try and repress them but then it’ll just squeeze out somewhere else. No. You get all that. You get to feel it. You get to process it. You get to use it to make PERSONAL decisions.

I’m a Jew and I am officially saying, as far as I am concerned for myself, you can think of me as a Kike, think I am going to hell, block me, ignore me, refuse to use my business. You can throw the Musk gesture. You can say that the world would be better off without me because the Jews are evil and drink the blood of babies. You will have to live with me hating you back but that’s fine as a personal interaction. We don’t have to like each other. We can live together AND hate each other AND have it still function.

The COST for having all three of those things at once is that you still have to fight for my rights and protections in the public square and I still have to fight for yours. We both have to push for Public Policy to protect the other because we can’t predict who will end up where. Yes, in a perfectly just world, I firmly believe the Nazi would get the worst treatment. But we don’t live in a perfect world. And history has shown that it is frequently the worst people on top instead of on the bottom.

So it’s gotta go the other way, too. It’s NEVER you on top. But it jolly well can be the people you hate pulling the levers to put you on the bottom. So you have to check the power of the dictator because you can’t control who it will be for the same reason you have to protect the rights of the villains. Because it’s just one switch away from all the weapons you gave yourself from being turned on you.

Feel what you feel. But advocate for better. Or you are living on borrowed time.

I do actually care marginally about the guy in that reddit screenshot who voted for Trump and is now worried that he might lose his medicaid funding because I did not fucking stutter when I said healthcare is a human right but the people losing their internships and job offers to the hiring freeze are straight up hilarious.

[sturnlsstuff]

YOU GIVE GHOSTFACE!CHRIS HIS OWN MEDICINE, BUT HE JUST WANTS TO MAKE IT UP TO YOU.

part one

for two weeks, everything felt off.

getting chris out of your head was hard— almost impossible. you've never had anything like that before, surprised that it happened now and with him out of all people, someone who's been constantly annoying you for who knows how long.

you thought you'll be able to move on quickly as always, drown out the nagging thoughts about him by focusing on everything else. college, hanging out with your friends, netflix marathons. anything that wasn’t connected to him. but for some reason you couldn't even stand seeing nick and matt, immediately feeling like it was chris in front of you— even if they were so different. no matter how hard you tried, your mind kept circling back to that last conversation, to that moment when he’d said you're not his girlfriend and he's had enough of hanging out everyday. which was pretty understandable whenever you thought about it, but brushing off the awful sting in your chest was really, really difficult. you didn't want to admit it, but you missed that... chaos. that energy chris brought with him.

you needed to stop thinking like that. you weren't supposed to care.

so you threw yourself into distractions, spending hours studying or at the gym, pushing yourself until the thought of him was nothing more than a dull ache. and you hadn’t reached out, even if he was constantly spamming your inbox with messages, and you read every single one of them against your logic. it was funny to you— how irritated he seemed through the text, even if he was the one who was ignoring you first.

anytime you read these messages again, you only feel the annoyance building up inside. he was really acting like nothing happened and asking if you're mad?

you knew you shouldn't be, but his words pissed you off really bad and you couldn't explain it.

meanwhile chris was convinced that the silence wouldn’t last long, that you'd eventually text him, send some sarcastic meme like you used to, but there was nothing. not a single message, not a “you up?” text, not even a “fuck you”. nothing. he couldn't understand, you two would constantly argue and it always ended the same— one of you insulting the other and then acting like nothing happened.

at first, he told himself it was no big deal, that he had other things to focus on, his own stuff. he didn’t need you and he felt pathetic getting all sentimental, but damn, as the days went on, he started feeling something shift. it wasn’t even the fact he was constantly walking around half-hard, not being able to even get himself off or do it with anyone else— it was just the feeling that something was off. how could you just... ignore him? he knew he was a hypocrite, but you didn't seem to care before. he didn't say anything you didn't know.

and the silence was killing him, even if he would never admit that. every random thought that floated through his mind ended up circling back to you, and he couldn’t believe you were actually mad. what was there to be mad about? why were you so quiet? and he kept texting you like an idiot without getting any response. it was fucking frustrating.

chris knew you were still hanging out with his brothers and that was the part that made him lose his mind, because before he could've tell himself that maybe you're just busy, but clearly you were not.

at some point he felt so desperate that he found himself standing in front of your door, not able to take it anymore.

it was really late, you were just about to get to bed, when the sharp sound of the knock at the door echoes through the quiet house. you're confused, not expecting anyone at this hour, however you decide to check it anyway. a moment later the door creaked open, and there he stood. chris's hands shoved in his pockets, a hood over his head, his usual cocky grin replaced by something slightly different— or maybe it was just the dim light. you didn't really think he'd come here, also hating how your body reacted to this, how your heart betrayed you as it picked up speed.

“well, well,” he speaks up, eyeing you up and down. the fact that you're standing just in some barely covering shorts and a top to sleep, makes his situation even worse. his voice light, yet the edge in it didn’t escape you. “look who’s been avoiding me.”

you cross your arms, leaning against the doorframe, trying to appear unaffected. there was nothing to care about, you definitely didn't care at all. just act natural as you were before all of this happened— that's what you think to yourself. "what do you want, chris?”

he shrugged, looking around the space like he wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing here, clearly trying to keep the nonchalant attitude. "was just... bored. thought you might want some company. y'know, since you’ve been so busy the past two weeks," his voice dripping with sarcasm.

you don't answer right away, turning your gaze to the side, focusing on anything to not look at him. "i actually was," you finally say. "and i was just going to sleep so i don't need company—"

but it's too late, he already takes a step inside without waiting for an invitation. your eyebrows raised as you scoff and roll your eyes, shutting the door behind and turning around to face him. "yeah, of course, make yourself at home."

"oh, don't gimme that. last time you casually came into my room too," he retorts, giving you a sideways glance, trying to keep the sarcasm in his tone, but there was a tension in it that he wasn't owning. "so you ignore me now?"

"aww, is this annoying when someone gives you your own medicine?"

chris rolls his eyes, taking off the hood and running his hand through his hair. and you'd rather die than admit it out loud, but you missed doing the same to him whenever he would sleep over. he liked it too, but he always acted so annoyed that you make his hair more messy. "y'know, i figured you'd get over it. i didn’t think this would be a big deal.”

"it's not," you response too quickly.

his lips twitch in amusement at your delusion. "that's why you act like you don't see my texts?"

"but isn't that what you were doing before too? what's wrong with me doing it now?" you don't even move from your spot, not wanting to break the distance between the two of you. he just effortlessly stood there, like nothing had happened, which makes your blood boil— though your body reacts to the sight of him like it had never been touched by anyone else. the way his scent drifts in the air, makes you feel as if he takes a step closer and you might lose it completely. and you hate it, the feeling of the walls cracking, not sure if it was anger or lust burning through your veins.

"why are you even here?" you can't even hide your annoyance. "everything you said clicked in my head just like you wanted, so what do you want?" a fake, sarcastic chuckle leaves your lips, "ohh, shit, wait—" you paused dramatically to make eye contact. "are you here 'cause every other girl wants to offer you more than sex, which you don't want, or maybe they even can't offer you that good fuck like i did?"

his jaw tensing as you mock his words, the slight twitch in his eyes betraying his irritation. chris remembers what he'd say back then— not that he was really proud of it, but his ego would never let him to apologize. he didn't know how to take it back. the thing was, he knew you could offer him more than just hookups if you both wanted that, and that slightly terrified him.

for a moment you both remain silent, his gaze sharpening like he was weighing his next move, wheels clearly turning in his head. his tongue runs across his teeth when he finally nods. "a'ight," the sarcasm in his tone barely hiding the edge of frustration. "i deserved that one, i guess. honestly, answering your question? both."

that was not a good move and he realizes that when your face flushed with annoyance. "oh, fucking great. well, i'm not gonna offer you shit anymore, so you can go now."

chris shifted uncomfortably, his smirk fading, knowing these remarks will get him nowhere. and to be honest, he used to be around you constantly so he didn't want to leave before making sure you two are good— as good as you could be.

"okay chill, i was just jokin'..." he licks his lips, clearly thinking of how to handle this situation. "listen, uh—" he clears his throat, his gaze more guarded now and for a brief second, you see something else in his eyes—something almost like hesitation, like he was starting to realize maybe he’d screwed up. but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. "i actually didn't mean— i wasn't really trying to say what i said—"

"but you did and it was pretty clear," you interrupt him. he takes a deep breath almost holding back to say something mean, but he quickly pushes it aside, knowing he probably shouldn't be getting under your skin right now.

"yeah i did," he nods. "see, i don't think the only thing you can offer someone is just sex, though you pretty good at it..." you give him a glance at what he raises his hands in surrender. "hey, jus' being honest..." he quickly adds. "--but i mean, like, you're funny too, i guess... 'n you can make good pasta. and you're smart enough," chris slightly smirks at your eye roll, clearly wanting to break the tension without really apologizing, even if he did regret his words. "so i was wrong 'bout that, but not gonna lie, i mostly just wanna get laid. 'n i don't know why is this such a big deal when you knew it and you were clear about it too, so what's the problem?"

what was the problem? there was one.

"it's the fact you acted like i just was your personal slut that you can have whenever y'want, and then ignore once you're bored. and that's really hypocritical of you, chris." you try your best to keep your voice steady, "that's why i said that if you wanna end things then say it— and i meant us having sex, not some... relationship or whatever. i know i'm not your girlfriend and i never tried to be."

you knew the deal— no strings attached, and you agreed to this. but his attitude rubbed you the wrong way, you didn't want to be treated like this, just like your ex would treat you. and when chris ignored you, the feeling that you always had while being in a toxic relationship came back. the anxiety and overthinking why, just like you'd do whenever your ex did the same thing.

"i don't wanna stop," his voixe firm and sure, his gaze stays on you as the frustration keeps growing within him. the thought of even not being able to touch you was awfully pissing him off. "didn't even mean to ignore ya, just thought 'bout the fact you know my biggest fuckin' secret that even my own triplet brother doesn't know and— like, what if you'll want to stop? you gonna go and snitch on me?" he scoffs. "--i can't have that happening."

"are you joking right now?" you scoff back with disbelief. you are offended and it's clear by your expression. "snitch on you? i already could. multiple times actually. but i didn't and i'm not planning on doing that, and you said you know it—"

"i know, but one day it can change, 'n what am i gonna do then?"

"it won't change. and you're forgetting i'm not doing that only for you, but for matt as well, 'cause if he actually helps you sometimes then he'd be fucked too."

that was the truth, you'd never want to lose matt as a friend, but you were going to stay loyal for chris too— no matter how much you would hate him or how annoying he was, there was no thought of telling anyone about what he's doing. even after ignoring him for two weeks you didn't even think of snitching on him.

"okay—" he sighs, "okay, i got it. no snitching. perfect."

you cross your arms, biting the inside of your cheek as there's silence between the two of you again, making you slightly uncomfortable. you had nothing more to say. he fucked up, not you.

"ya heard me?" he finally asks, taking a step closer and it makes your heart race. "i said i don't wanna stop hookin' up."

"i heard," you nod. "but that doesn't change shit. honestly it's gonna be better if we stop."

"yeah, you think so?" a scoff leaves his lips, clearly amused by your delusion.

you open your mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. you stood there, heart pounding in your chest, fighting the urge to let yourself melt when chris moves closer again.

"don't—" you take a step back, shaking your head. "i'm serious, chris. you think i'll let you touch me after what you've said?"

"that would be pretty awful if you think 'bout it, but honestly? yeah," his voice too confident for your liking.

your mind was a mess, torn between the anger that had built up over the last few weeks, and the undeniable pull you felt every time he was near. you wanted to tell him to leave, so everything would be as it was before all of this happened. you wish you could just come back to this routine when you both only argued and didn't give a shit about each other.

he keeps moving closer until your back presses against the front door, trapping you between it and his body. "i fucking hate you," you mutter.

you really did— the way your body was betraying you, how weak you felt, the frustration building up and suffocating you. you hated it all.

"that's good," his head cocks to the side, the familiar smirk coming back to his face, almost like he knew you're giving in. "better that way..." his gaze doesn't leave your face. "so... lemme make it up to ya?"

the spark in his eyes tells you everything you need to know, and neither of you are surprised when that night your clothes end up scattered around the apartment with your moans filling the room. deep down you also knew that you would give in to his touch again— just didn't think it would be so fast.

a/n: i like 'em a little toxic 🫦 can you say how bad i edited that messages... 😭 (there's no part three to this !!)

taglist: @certifiedstarrr @chrislovespepsi @le4hsblog @sturnsxbitvh @sweetlikesug4rvenom @xaristhings @mattsfavbitchhh @lvrsturniolo @r0s3luvr @slut4brunettes @madisonsturnioloss @chrispillowprincess @sturnioloslutttt4 @ashlishes @mattsbitchh @hi-people-who-are-alive @stellward123 @inssanely @matts-girlfriend @imnotalive420 @emely9274 @shadowthesim @yunkilm @sophiaxsblog @namelesssav @demyackerman @fratbrochrisgf @lvrsturniolo @chrisweetheart @chrisfavoritewhore @sturnslutz @ncm9696 @certified-sturniolo @mattsobvimyfav @swagalicious260 @giannalovessturniolo @sophand4n4 @brazyturtleneck @jocelyncsblog @sophand4n4 @giannalovessturniolo @alesturniolos @ilovenmcs @seluky10 @chriss-slutt @ribbonlovergirl @icrazy106 @izzylovesmatt @trevorsgodmother @sturniolo101 @starstrucktyrantinfluencer

[everytimewetouch-dot-mp3]

i can’t stop thinking abt a bingge who just. doesn’t enjoy sex.

he slept with qin wanyue at the IAC because she was dying and he was afraid and wanted to be kind, and he didn’t know how to say no. and he kept just…not knowing how to say no. everyone always had one dying wish or a deadly poison or some sort of urgent need. and lbh wanted to be good. he was desperate for any sign that he wasn’t irredeemable, that there was something about him that anyone could ever want. and these women kept throwing themselves at him in moments of desperation. and he wanted to be good.

wouldn’t it be too cruel to say no to this woman when he said yes to that one, just because he didn’t particularly want to? wouldn’t that be too arbitrary and selfish? what makes one worthy of his ‘yes’ and another unworthy? lbh had no framework to evaluate that sort of thing, no sense that this was something he could just Not Want. he wanted to be wanted, and here these women were, wanting and wanting and wanting him. why would he turn down the only thing he really desired, just because it didn’t come to him in a way he liked?

and then he picked up xin mo, and all notions of desire fled him. he’d never wanted to sleep with any of those women, but now he needed to. it was either dual cultivate with whoever asked or be consumed by xin mo. what option did he have? he was often on the verge of qi deviation; much of his ‘wife collecting’ could probably be attributed to medical necessity. and what was he supposed to do afterward? disrespect those women by sleeping with them and then discarding them? of course he’d add them to his harem. what other dignity could he offer afterward?

he never really wanted any of it. he never enjoyed it particularly. it was nice, maybe, with ning yingying because she cared for him in a way he could trust. she cared for him in her own clumsy way before his name meant anything, and when she looked after him it always felt safe. he got along with liu mingyan well, trusted her wisdom and forthrightness—and she was never overly affectionate or insincere when they cultivated together. he believed, at the very least, that she respected him as an equal.

but all the other wives… they were there because they wanted something from him, or their families did; or they were there because luo binghe wanted to be good, and a good man would not lay with someone and then refuse to take responsibility by marrying her. he had the means to provide for them. and a bountiful garden suited his station, didn’t it? never mind that he’d never really had an interest in gardening; if flowers leapt into his hands, it was his duty to plant them where they could continue to grow. that was what a good man would do.

[shmisky]

Better world ford meet Reverse portal dtanley

Oh, boy, that would be something!

For anyone reading this, you might want to check out this first, or you won’t understand!

Ok, so. Moving on. I think that Better World Ford can be interpreted in two ways: 1) the one in which he’s devastated by the loss of his brother, but still functional and clinging to the morals he does have, and 2) the more dramatic and darker one in which he’s a bit... cray cray, as Mabel would say, driven mad by grief and potentially overprotective and possessive over any Stan he’d happen to find. From my profound fanfic knowledge, I think most people (not just shippers but the fandom in general) would prefer the second option, hahah. I will try to answer what would happen in both of these scenarios!

Let’s think of reverse portal!Stan first. I assume you can only mean a Stan who went through the portal instead of Ford. I’ve talked about this possibility before, here, and to shorten things: I don’t think Ford would ever genuinely value the “greater good” over Stan. He didn’t in Weirdmaggedon, when he was ready to offer the entire universe in exchange for the lives of three people (Stan, Mabel, and Dipper), and he wouldn’t back then, either, when he had much less discipline and control than old man!Ford. But Ford is a complicated little guy, isn’t he. So there are a number of reasons why he could, hypothetically, decide to not rescue Stan. 1) He assumes Stan is dead, 2) he somehow manages to gaslight himself for a while into believing he values the greater good over Stan (only to regret it bitterly, because that isn’t who he is at his core), or 3) someone (Bill or Fiddleford the Cult Leader) purposefully or accidentally messes things up for him.

Personally, I think the first option is the most likely one. Despite his admirable determination, Ford can be a pretty fatalistic, pessimistic man. When Stan lost his memories, he did indeed believe Stan was lost to him completely, and would have continued to think so, if Mabel hadn’t attempted to resurrect the old Stan through her scrapbook. “I’m sorry. Stan is gone,” he told his desperate grandniece.

Not just that, but there’s a very juicy reason (to me) why Ford would believe so: Bill. Bill, who knows exactly how much Stan matters to Ford. Bill, who already tried to hurt Stan to get to Ford once, in TBoB. (And who turned everyone into tapestry in Weirdmaggedon but spared Stan and the kids to use them against Ford! We have a pattern here!) Ford would sink into despair thinking of all the things Bill could have done to his brother before killing him. I think Bill could go and put more wood to the fire by appearing to Ford and making something up on the spot to brag about, about how Stan screamed and begged for mercy and died thinking Ford hated him. Ford would then assume Stan was really and truly dead, because if he were alive, then surely Bill would make an attempt to blackmail him, to convince Ford to fix the portal to get his twin back. The fact Bill isn’t doing that is proof enough. The possibility that Stan just managed to escape Bill and is still evading capture wouldn’t even cross his mind.

But while this Ford would be utterly devastated with the burden of having killed his brother, Portal!Stan would not know this. No, he would assume Ford decided it wasn’t worth it, to fix the portal and get him back. That he wasn’t worth it to Ford. He could easily be led to think that his relationship with Ford was now wrecked beyond repair. He’d feel like something he never noticed he still had (hope that Ford loved him deep down) was being taken away from him.

Most people, when they think of Portal!Stan think of... well, our canon Portal!Ford, but make it Stan instead. Same thing! But—I’m realizing only as I’m writing this—I don’t think Portal!Stan would be exactly the same thing as Portal!Ford. Ford is, surprisingly, more hardcore in his violence than Stan! There are many moments in the show that highlight this, but I’ll try to be somewhat brief.

Think about it: both of the Stans had their years running from the law. Stan was banned from US states, while Ford managed to make himself an outlaw in many dimensions. A state is inside a country that is inside a continent that is inside a planet that is inside a solar system that is inside a galaxy that is inside an universe that is inside a dimension, and somehow Ford want us to believe he was “just as wanted” as Stanley! Uh huh! Ford managed, somehow, to be known across the multiverse as “armed and dangerous,” even in his younger days, while he still had brown hair (which is what his Wanted poster in J3 says in code, btw!) The aliens were afraid of our guy! Mullet!Stan meanwhile, homeless and presumably struggling to survive just as Ford was, didn’t seem to have a similar (in)fame. We can see his own Wanted poster in his box of memorabilia in Not What He Seems, but they merely list his conman-typical crimes. Don’t get me wrong, he would end up very different from our canon Stan nonetheless. I think he would be just as hard to catch as Ford (Bill would be after him as well, for sure), and perhaps even develop a sense of revenge against Bill for hurting his brother if he put two and two together and Bill appeared in his dreams to brag. He just wouldn’t have the same vibes, imo, and would perhaps rely on different skills, such as his silver tongue and ability for lying and understanding people, instead of making himself known interdimensionally as a dangerous threat like Ford. Bill would repeatedly warn bounty hunters about not underestimating him, but somehow they always would, and Stan would always escape.

Now, now. Finally, let’s talk about Better World!Ford! I said there are two versions of him you could imagine, the more reasonable one and the cray cray one, but no matter the version, he’d be mourning his Stan deeply, like half of himself had died.

Let’s assign some names for them so we don’t get lost, first 😭

BW!Ford = Better World!Ford

BW!Stan = Better World!Stan

RP!Stan = Reverse Portal!Stan

RP!Ford = Reverse Portal!Ford

Moving on again.

I picture RP!Stan visiting the Better World dimension for some reason and BW!Ford immediately wanting him to fill the emptiness caused by BW!Stan’s death. I can’t see BW!Ford not being overprotective of RP!Stan, considering he’d be 1) traumatized about losing BW!Stan and 2) terrified of what Bill could do to RP!Stan. Because again, Bill knows how much any Ford, of any dimension, loves his Stan. Bill could try and use Stan to hurt him! (Which would be, in fact, exactly what Bill was trying and failing to do for so many years, hahah.)

RP!Stan would be shocked by BW!Ford’s transparent and overwhelming love for him. Didn’t every Ford Pines despise Stan Pines? Perhaps BW!Ford was faking his love! Perhaps BW!Ford was just completely different from RP!Ford!

But if so, where’s BW!Ford’s own Stan? What happened differently? Something terrible, perhaps? Did BW!Stan have to die or something for BW!Ford to start caring? But then again, RP!Ford (apparently) had left RP!Stan to die after pushing him through the portal, so perhaps an average Ford wouldn’t even care about an average Stan’s death... (I’m sorry if this is getting too confusing! 😭)

(RP!Stan also considers the possibility that BW!Stan was just a much better brother than him, but that hurts too much. BW!Ford wisely doesn’t tell him about the fact BW!Stan had obeyed his order to take away the journal.)

Let’s suppose that RP!Stan then makes the mistake of telling BW!Ford about RP!Ford, who (apparently) hadn’t bothered to fix the portal to get RP!Stan back. I think BW!Ford would realize what actually had happened, and then he would have a decision to make: to tell RP!Stan the truth or not. If he did, perhaps RP!Stan would then embark in a journey back to the arms of his RP!Ford. If he didn’t...

Here I think it depends on how you interpret Ford (and his morals) to be. I think his morals are pretty loose, but nonetheless he can be pretty noble and self-sacrificing and prone to profound, if sometimes repressed, guilt. He could still feel empathy towards his other self, knowing intimately the utter pain of living while blaming himself for Stan’s death. If he decides to be the good, selfless guy, then happy ending for RP!Ford, unhappy ending for him.

Could he believably decide to lie to RP!Stan and say that yeah, his own Ford didn’t care for him? Yes, imo, with the right rationalizion. As Alex mentioned before, Rob Renzetti (coauthor of Journal 3 and his Ford expert) made him understand a fundamental truth about Stanford Pines: that he can do anything as long as he manages to justify it to himself, because one of his greatest powers is rationalizing. I think even a Ford with canon Ford’s morals could justify lying to RP!Stan if he managed to successfully convince himself that what he was doing wasn’t against Stan, but against the other Ford. Ford on Ford violence, if you will. He can be very self-loathing and very hypocritical at the same time, so if he somehow twisted the narrative inside his head so as to paint RP!Ford as the villain who deserved to lose his Stan and himself as the one who will take better care of RP!Stan... Especially considering Bill, and the fact he could consider it unsafe for RP!Stan to leave the BW dimension at all...

And if you want to go a touch darker—now I believe we’re approaching a darker!Ford territory; that is, I don’t believe canon Ford would be capable of bringing himself to do this, but his BW version has been twisted by grief—he could ensure RP!Stan never leaves him quite easily, through many different means, including Fiddleford’s memory gun. That would mean a definitive unhappy ending for poor RP!Ford, forever without his Stan 😔

[lucidheart3]

MY LOVE FOR THIS MOMENT IS IMMACULATE!

Gear up I’m gonna overanalyze the heck out of this.

We know that mourning Maria is what Shadow only could do in a stasis, he was frozen in that moment he lost her. Like he says here, his identity is ‘Maria’s avenger’ .

From the moment Sonic and Shadow met, Sonic acted as , and I don’t mean this in a bad way, ‘know it all’. We know that he has experience with grief just like Shadow, so he is actually trying to symphatize with him, but Shadow doesn’t know that. In his eyes, Sonic might be looking like him but he is associated by GUN, who took Maria away. He is thinking that Sonic is just trying to play the hero, trying to act good. When he harms Tom,thinking it was Walters, he doesn’t tell Sonic it was a misunderstanding. He just tells him he did what had to be done, after having flashbacks of himself over Maria when she died. Because he wants to make Sonic tick. He wants to see this ‘hero’ turn into Shadow himself, because he desperately needs the proof that he is doing the right thing. That it’s normal to be this way after all he has experienced. That he is not a monster like everyone thinks he is. Maria wanted him to find who he will be, and he can’t bear to disappoint Maria with who he is now.

When they are at the Eclipse Cannon he still has his doubts, and converses with Gerald about it. He comfirms their actions, and with Gerald being the only person Shadow tursts, he obliges.

Then comes Sonic in his super form. Shadow should be relieved, really. This just proves that anyone can be what he is, that he isn’t in the wrong. But he isn’t.

Sonic turned into Shadow, like Shadow wanted

But Shadow is furious

Because Sonic left behind his loved ones, he went alone even though they tried to stop him, even though they didn’t approve of him. Sonic didn’t care for them.

Does this mean Shadow is doing the same thing? That he is going against Maria’s wishes? Leaving her behind in the name of revenge, just because he doesn’t know what to do without her? That he doesn’t care for her ?

It’s impossible for him to change now.

“Go ahead, finish it, I’m right here!”

Yes, this is what he is now, and he can’t change it, it can only be destroyed. And the golden opportunity is presented to him in the form of Sonic (pun intended), probably the only creature that’s stronger than him right now.

But before his eyes, Sonic remembers who he is, and it’s not this

Does this mean Shadow isn’t this, too? That he can change everthing?

Sonic tells him to embrace his love instead of his grief.

So Shadow remembers he is ‘Maria’s best friend/brother” instead of her ‘avenger’ , just like Sonic remembers he is a ‘son’ to both Tom and Longclaw.

And ‘Maria’s brother’ would save the world, not destroy it, just like how ‘Tom’s son’ wouldn’t kill someone.

Sorry for rambling this is my fave moment on thw movie and I had to share my feelings lol.

"Even though you lost her at such a young age you didn't let your pain change who you are in here."

"You're my friend and you can do or be anything you want not because of your powers but because of who you are in here."

[asktheritochampion]

Soo... What's your true opinion on Teba, Tulin, and Saki? :)

Why are you so intent on ruining every half decent relation I have and obliterating my dignity in the process?

Tulin is the only Rito in the past hundred years who has been able to harness the winds as I can. Not only I am unbelievably proud of the kid, but this ability we - and only we - share, connects us. I wish to train him everything I know. I feel immensely protective of him and would give my very life to protect him – not that I wouldn’t for most people I suppose. I had a brother once by blood; Tulin is more of a brother to me than he ever was.

The wind connects our souls, and we are both her children.

Teba is the most phenomenal Rito Warrior I have ever met, past or present.

The intensity of his training is admirable, even to me. While he may never have mastered the skies, his archery skills are so advanced that I believe that if he didn’t hold back, he would defeat even me in a contest of skill – and that is not an assumption I would award lightly.

Not only is he an unmatched warrior but a wise and confident leader to our people, and an incredible father to his son. He is the Rito all men should aspire to be. I admire him so much that it’s embarrassing. I feel pathetically desperate to make him proud and I don’t even know why.

He told me once that he would be proud to call me a son and I’ve been in an emotional war with myself ever since; both wanting to cling onto my title as his worshipped hero from the past, but also crumbling beneath the childish desire to feel wanted and loved. The notion should be terribly patronising shouldn't it?! I’m the Rito Champion and an adult grown man - I do not need a father or a parent of any kind. So why am I incapable of thinking of him without calling him dad in my mind? Why is it that all I want is for him to tell me he's proud of me all the time?! Why do I need that?! What is wrong with me?!

Then there’s Saki.

Ever since I awoke from my passing, I feel as if I’ve been broken. Consumed with grief and regret, remorse and guilt and devastation. I lost everyone I ever knew, I never even got to apologise for failing them, it has been tearing me apart from the inside out. At first she took me into her home as a kindness, as most anyone would do when a Rito turns up without a roof over their head – but even during my very worst days, in moments where I’ve wished I could have remained dead, where I’ve been unable to eat or even rise from my hammock like a useless, pathetic fool, she’s been nothing but patient and kind to me.

From day one, she’s been treating me as if I were a beloved family member - even when at my lowest moments I’ve been nothing but rude or disruptive or downright pitiful. Nobody has ever given me that kind of endless, unconditional care, not even as a chick. I pretend to myself and to any who pry that my family died in some heroic battle, but I’m not dense, I know they left me behind because I was unwanted – that perhaps I was simply too much effort for too little gain. I’m constantly afraid that one day I’ll awaken and be asked to leave because I am simply too inconvenient - too rude and unpleasant, that I’m too intense to put up with – that somehow, despite being the best, that I’m still not good enough.

I could move out at any time really, it wouldn’t take long to build my own nest. But she...she smells and sounds like the vaguest memories of my own mother and being close to her makes me feel safe in a way I’ve never felt before and I just...I don’t know how to handle going back to not feeling like that anymore.

Everything is terrible and I just... want my mom.

…And thanks to you, the lot of them will likely never speak to me again after this mortifying admission.

Now if you don't mind, I need to go and hide under a rock and never show my face in the Village again.

[6/10 🧪✨]

[awardenandacrow]

FANFIC SNIPPET 40

[after meeting The First Warden in Minrathos]

CW/TW: strong language, drunkenness

——————————————————————————

Lucanis had just settled in with his latest knitting project — a nug companion for Bellara’s stuffed halla, which he hoped she would enjoy — when he heard the dining hall door bang open.

ANGER AND SADNESS, Spite cocked his head to listen. EMBARRASSED AND HURT. ROOK!

The Demon needn’t have told him *who* had entered, whose feelings he was describing. The way the First Warden berated Rook had reminded him of… well, Caterina.

She was popping a cork out of a bottle — or, trying desperately to, anyway — when he exited the pantry. When she grabbed a knife to stab into the cork, he decided he’d better intervene.

“You are going to cut yourself,” he said, not bothering to speak up, since her good ear faced him. He closed the distance between them slowly, holding his hand out for the bottle. With an exhasperated sigh she relinquished it to him, setting the knife on the counter before sinking heavily into her usual chair. She said nothing as he opened the bottle and poured her a glass. When he set it on the table in front of her, she finally spoke.

“Am I not allowed to have the whole —“ she stopped herself as he set it down next to the glass with a *clunk.* “Thanks.”

She reached for the bottle. Hesitated. Took the glass. Lucanis thought about returning to the pantry, but like a moth to a flame, he found himself sliding into the seat next to her instead. She couldn’t seem to meet his eye.

“I’m really sorry you… had to be there for that,” she mumbled finally.

DIDN’T WANT *YOU* TO SEE, Spite cackled. WANTS YOU TO THINK. SHE’S BETTER.

Better than what?

“He seemed to have quite a lot of vitriol for you,” Lucanis observed, watching her face. She looked… tired. It was the expression of someone who’d been hoping for one outcome, when they should have known the one which actually awaited them. A look he knew all too well — a look that had stared back at him from the mirror more times than he could count, as a boy. The corner of her mouth just barely quirked upwards at his remark.

“You could say that,” she said softly. He couldn’t help but notice that she gripped the glass tightly, but had yet to take a sip. Like she was at war with herself over whether she actually wanted to drink it or not.

“What did you do to piss him off?” He pressed.

She snorted out what might have been a laugh, if it weren’t so bitter. “*Exist*?”

She sighed, then downed the glass of wine in quick, easy chugs. “He has hated me since the moment Saimaeria brought me to Weisshaupt. First he was mad that she just got to decide, when she’d never even been stationed at Weisshaupt — ‘why not take your pet back to Ferelden with you?’”

Her imitation was poor, though she did it while attempting to pour a second glass, so he supposed it wasn’t surprising. That she managed not to spill any was impressive.

“Then he was mad that I was a *slave.* As if I’m the first Grey Warden to ever come from such an *unsavory* background. We take anyone! That’s the whole schtick! It’s not supposed to matter!” She sat up and spoke emphatically with her hands, the glass forgotten for a moment on the table. She still wouldn’t look at him; she’d picked a spot on the far wall and was fixated on it.

“Then, on top of his protests, *I’m a screw up.*” Her voice hitched at this declaration, and she quickly gulped down half her second glass. “I’d accidentally set off ancient traps no one even knew were there. I set an entire hall of tapestries on fire once. And this was just training, mind you, I wasn’t even a Warden yet. And he did *everything* he could to try to make me quit.”

She kept speaking faster, and Lucanis got the sense that these were things she had maybe never gotten off of her chest before.

TASTES LIKE SECRETS, Spite agreed. WHISPERED, SILENT WORDS. INK ON PAPER. SCRIBBLING FURIOUSLY. TEAR-STAINED PAGES. NO ONE SEES.

A diary, perhaps? How could Spite know that? He’d never seen ink on her fingers. Could the demon smell it, perhaps?

“Extra chores. Fewer rations. Jobs no one else wanted to do.” Rook ticked these off on her fingers, then downed the rest of her second glass. After that, she finally gave in to her urge to drink from the bottle. Lucanis wondered if he should stop her. Drinking from a place of despair was rarely a wise decision.

“*Then*,” she said, dragging the word out a bit more than a sober person might have, “I had the *audacity* to actually *survive* the Joining!”

Rook’s eyes suddenly grew big and wide, and she looked at Lucanis as though it were her first time seeing him there. There was fear in her expression.

“That you can die from that is not as big a secret as the Wardens would like to believe,” Lucanis told her quietly. “And even if it were, I assure you, your secrets are safe with me.”

He truly meant it. He didn’t care at all for the Warden’s secrets — they held themselves aloof, above reproach, but at the end of the day they were just another organization headed by a powerful man who spent afternoons drinking expensive alcohol in an uptown lounge while the people beneath him did the dirty work that allowed him to do it. But hers? Her secrets he would hold and defend like treasure.

TRUSTS YOU, Spite murmured in his ear. A shiver ran down his spine. Maybe she shouldn’t.

She smiled then, a little sloppy maybe, but a real one. “I’m sorry to just… throw all this at you. You’re just… really easy to talk to.”

Lucanis’s heart did a summersault. No one had ever accused him of *that* before. He cleared his throat, and made an attempt to change the subject back to her.

“So… you were an apostate mage hiding in plain sight from a Tevinter Magister as a slave, and then you became a Warden, where the asshole in charge made every day a living hell,” he recapped. “Has there been no joy in your life at all?”

Mierda, what a question. What was he thinking?

Rook took a slow sip from the bottle, swirling it in her mouth before she answered. He noticed belatedly how flushed she looked. So Naimeryn Thorne was a lightweight. He’d have to keep that in mind for any meal plans that paired best with alcohol.

“I wouldn’t say *none,*” she said finally, but didn’t elaborate, not right away. Lucanis felt a pang in his chest as the minutes slowly ticked by. Was she searching for an example? Or was she just going to leave it there? Perhaps he should rescind his query, try a happier topic.

“I enjoyed working in the library,” she said finally. “He thought it was a punishment, but mostly it was… free time. The librarian taught me to read. He didn’t like me either, I don’t think, or at least didn’t like having me just dumped in his lap, but he said I needed to at least be *useful.* And once I could *read* the books, then… then I got to learn things.”

Her demeanor shifted so quickly it made his head spin. She sat boot upright, slapping the bottle down on the table and leaning towards him, eyes alight with excitement. “Like did you know wyverns are so protective of their territory that they’ll fight literal *dragons*? Or that they can spit venom *yards*?”

Lucanis froze, feeling his eyes grow wide as he stared at her. Rook… was interested in wyverns?

“And *dragons*! Only female dragons have wings. Drakes? They’re just male dragons. No wings!” She threw her hands towards him, hands up. “So, if the archdemons *were* the old Tevinter gods, just tainted by the Blight, right? They’re all *female*! Were. *Were* all female.”

Rook frowned. “I feel like I’ve gotten off track. What were we talking about?”

Lucanis forced a quick recovery, clearing his throat. So not wyverns in particular, but perhaps great beasts in general were of interest to her? He supposed it was a wise topic of study, given that she might someday need to face an archdemon.

“I was just thinking I should make you something to soak up some of that wine,” he told her, standing.

“Can I still talk to you while you cook?” She asked, squirming awkwardly in her chair until she sat on her knees, arms wrapped around the back, bottle dangling precariously in her hand as she peeped over the top at him. “I like talking to you.”

SHE WANTS. TO JUST SAY. SHE LIKES YOU, Spite cackled. *Mierda,* but he should not encourage her. The man she *thought* she liked… he didn’t really exist. They’d only known each other a couple of weeks, he reminded himself. As time went on, the reality of Spite, of who he really was, would sink in. He’d just have to wait it out until then.

WHY? WHY ACT LIKE. THAT’S WHAT YOU WANT?

He ignored Spite and started gathering ingredients for a hearty sandwich. She’d be able to manage that, wouldn’t she?

“Is it only wyverns and dragons which interest you?” He asked, rather than giving her a real response to her admission.

“Well, I read everything we had on griffons… you’d think there’d be more,” he heard her take another swig. A lightweight who didn’t know her own limit. That had the potential to be problematic.

“Honestly, Lucanis,” she sighed, and he heard her slump into her chair, the bottle *clink*ing to the floor. He turned his head, but she’d set it right-side up. “I just wanted to learn everything about… everything. They never let me go outside. At the alienage, it wasn’t safe for me. And when I did sneak out, it was just mud and dirty water and that *one* tree. At the magister’s manor, I’d sneak into the garden sometimes. Wonder what plants were what. Try to make friends with the animals — that’s how I got whipped, once.”

Involuntarily, he winced.

“Weisshaupt’s… just all stone. And cold. The kitchen cat would let me pet him though. Stocky black and white boy. Green eyes. He purred *so loud* when you’d give him chin scratches. I loved that cat.”

After a moment, “I love cats.”

Lucanis brought her the sandwich. She was practically laying in the chair, one arm slung over one armrest, one leg over the other, slouched down almost far enough that her head could rest on the arm as well. He stifled a laugh. The tips of her ears were bright red, and occassionally a small *hiccup* escaped her. He retrieved the bottle of wine and placed it on the counter before returning to the table. She was eating her sandwich with gusto.

“I love this sandwich almost as much as I love cats,” she told him around a mouthful.

“I’m glad you like it,” he told her, finally allowing himself to chuckle. “Since you love cats so much, would you be up for another trip to Treviso tomorrow? I’m meeting Illario for an update.”

She was busy eating her sandwich, but she nodded enthusiastically. He hoped she wasn’t too far gone to remember this conversation in the morning.

YOU SAY. YOU DON’T WANT HER TO LIKE, Spite grumbled, BUT THEN. YOU ASK HER ON. A DATE.

“It’s not a date,” he muttered before he could catch himself.

“Hm?” Rook said inquisitively, but when he snapped his eyes back to her face, her eyes were half-closed.

“I said, it’s getting late,” he lied.

LIAR.

“Oh, I’m… bothering you,” she sounded so dejected he felt a pang of guilt.

“No,” he said, “but I think it’s time you got some sleep.”

“I’ll crash on the couch,” she told him resolutely, pointing not even close to where the couch was. “The library is so *far.*”

YES. HERE. WARM BODIES —

“*No,*” Lucanis said instantly. He knew where Spite was going, and he couldn’t allow it. He needed to be *very* clear with Spite, that he was to keep his hands — their hands — to himself. He had been speaking to the demon, but as he saw Rook’s stricken expression, he knew it was better to lean into that than to explain it to her. He didn’t want to hurt her. But it was better if she thought he didn’t want her there.

He did, however, soften his tone.

“No,” he repeated, “It’s not that far. I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she gave him a wobbly smile. “I know I just said it’s far, but it’s… not so far I can’t manage myself. I don’t want to be more of a bother than I already —“

She caught her hip on the chairs armrest and went down hard.

“Mierda!” He leapt to his feet, but she was *howling* with laughter.

SMELLS… WRONG, Spite crinkled his nose down at her. FIX HER.

“Doesn’t work like that, Spite,” he muttered, coming around the table and helping her to her feet. He hooked his arm around her waist — tried to ignore the way it felt as she tucked herself into his side. He couldn’t. She turned her head, beaming at him.

“Do you want to hear more about wyverns, Lucanis?” She asked him, allowing herself to be led out of the dining hall and into the courtyard. Lucanis groaned inwardly. “No one likes it when I babble about stuff I read about but don’t *know* about.”

“I’d…” *don’t say ‘love’* “… I would be happy to listen to what you’ve read,” he said, not meeting her eye. What were the chances that she just… *happened* to be interested in something he, too, considered a special interest? The one thing he still held onto from boyhood, the thing Illario sometimes *still* teased him mercilessly about?

Rook looked so excited it took his breath away. She immediately launched into a highly animated recap of behavior facts, common territories, and even how the venom could be extracted and used — it’s popular with the Crows, she added.

At this comment, Rook erupted into a fit of giggles, lost her footing, and slid down the stairs, nearly taking him with her.

“Mierda, Rook,” he sighed, quickly coming down the stairs. She patted his hand wildly.

“I can’t believe… I just told you… that the Crows… use wyvern poison… as if… you wouldn’t know!” She gasped out breathlessly.

I’M GOING TO HIDE ALL THE WINE, Spite growled. Lucanis pinched the bridge of his nose. It might not actually be a bad idea.

“Rook?” Lace opened her door and came out onto the root path. She spotted them, and groaned. “Oh, no, what did you do?”

“Me?” Lucanis asked indignantly. Changed his tone. “Did not take the wine away soon enough, apparently.”

Lace sighed heavily and closed the distance between them. “Yeah… it doesn’t take much.”

“Hey!” Rook snapped with a hiccup. Giggled. “Well, okay.”

“I thought she just needed to blow off steam,” Lucanis shrugged helplessly. “I even made her food.”

“About the First Warden?” Lace asked, gazing sympathetically down at Rook, who still sat on the ground. “I heard he tore into her.”

“Do you think we could go to Orlais and pet one?” Rook asked Lace.

“Uuuuh… one what?”

“I don’t think attempting to *pet* a wyvern would be advisable,” Lucanis tried, and failed, to suppress a bemused smile. To Lace, he asked, “Is this… a regular occurrence?”

She shook her head. “Honestly, I’ve only ever seen her drunk one other time. Actually, that was *also* because the First Warden was an asshole, now that I think about it.”

Lace groaned. “It took both Varric and I to get her into bed that night. She may be an elf, but she’s *heavy.*”

“*Hey,*” Rook whined. “Muscle weighs more than fat you know!”

She lifted her arms as though to show off her biceps — which, he’d noted previously, *were* impressive — but the gesture was so loose it was comical. Lucanis did his best not to simply laugh. A small snort escaped his resolve.

“By the Maker, you *do* have a sense of humor!” Lace gaped at him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lucanis smirked. “I can carry her, if necessary.”

She gave him an uncertain sideways glance.

“If I were going to harm her,” Lucanis said, not even mildly offended, “do you not think I would have done so in the dining hall?”

She squinted at him. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“I’ll just sleep out here,” Rook said sleepily, laying back on the cobblestones. “It’s not like I’ll freeze.”

“Ooooh, no you don’t,” Lace said firmly, bending down and pulling at Rook’s arm. Lucanis grabbed the other, hand and elbow. Her hand was so small. Tiny, slender fingers. Cold. Maybe she *would* freeze out here.

“What did he do last time?” Lucanis asked Lace as Rook’s head bobbed on her shoulders. They steered her together into the library, and towards the stairs.

“How much do you know about her time with the Wardens? Or how she ended up with Varric and I?”

“Very little,” he admitted. “While venting, she told me that she and he have never gotten along.”

“You could say that,” Lace snorted. “Varric told me that while Naimy — uh, Rook — was laying in a hospital bed, he told her Varric could be there to sell her back into slavery, and he wouldn’t stop him.”

“He *what?*” Lucanis growled, hearing the sound echoed by Spite. The anger that bubbled within him both surprised and alarmed him. How much of that was him, and how much was Spite?

But then, why would that make *Spite* angry?

“Yeah,” Lace nodded, guiding them down the hallway to Rook’s room. He hadn’t been here yet. The giant fish tank surprised him. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Rook. She couldn’t swim, of *that* he was certain. Did she like fish as much as she liked large beasts and cats?

“I’d hate me too,” she was mumbling.

“Hush, now,” Lace told her, guiding her around the console table just inside the door. Lucanis released her and trailed slightly behind, taking stock of his surroundings. Spite was immediately drawn to a small wooden rocking griffon on the table. Lucanis frowned. He’d had a much larger one, which could be ridden upon, as a child. It felt… strange… to find a miniature version in Rook’s room.

“You said she was in a hospital bed when Varric found her?” Lucanis asked curiously, coming around to stand at one end of the couch Rook was now curled contentedly on. Her eyelashes fluttered against those high cheekbones, and a satisfied smile curled her lips. Lace wrapped a blanket around her, caught Lucanis’s eye, and nodded to Rook’s feet. He swallowed thickly, but set to work unlacing her boots.

“She was in bad shape still when I met her,” Lace told him, pulling the bands out of Rook’s hair and starting to undo her braids. “Face full of stitches. Leaned on her staff when she walked. And that was a few months after the fact.”

“What happened to her?” Her feet were blistered, bandaged in places. Her boots were clearly a poor fit, and as he set them on the floor, he realized for the first time how worn out they were. They were coming apart at the toes, and the soles were worn nearly all the way through. Clearly, they were barely doing their job, as her feet, too, were cold.

YOU COULD KEEP HER WARM.

*No.*

He tucked the blanket around her feet as Harding finished pulling all her hair loose. It flowed like the night sky itself around her head and over the edge of the couch.

“She tried to fight a horde of Darkspawn basically by herself because a town was in danger,” Lace sighed, standing up. “They were supposed to wait, but there was no one to protect those people. So she charged in.”

“I… have always trusted Varric,” Lace said softly, “but I’ll admit, I thought he was nuts. But then, a wild card is the last thing Solas would expect. The last thing he *did* expect.”

“I assume the town fell anyway?”

Lace made a face at him. Then, realization dawned. “Oh. You think it went badly because of the First Warden.”

He nodded, but she was shaking her head, putting a hand on a hip and scowling up at him.

“She saved that town. They lost one Warden, and had to drop the town hall on top of the horde to do it, but almost *all* the townspeople survived.”

Lace turned her gaze back to Rook, whose breathing was now deep and steady. Lucanis felt his own brow furrowed. *I’m a screw up,* she’d said.

“I really think a part of her just wants his approval,” Lace was saying. “Whenever Varric gave his, which was a lot, I mean, she’s great at *so many things,* she’d gobble it up like she was starving. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but if you compliment her after a fight, it’s like you’ve made her whole day.”

Lucanis was reminded of the Ossuary.

*You can’t deny* that *was impressive,* he’d said to Neve. He could still remember the way she’d looked up at him. Like no one had ever said that about her before.

He hadn’t realized then how inadequate the word was. This woman… was *more* than impressive.

“Makes you wonder,” Lace mused, indicating they should leave, “if someone had told her, even one time, that she was doing a good job, how much better could she be at.. all this?”

She waved her hand vaguely towards the library as they came back down the hall.

“Do you still question Varric’s decision?” Lucanis asked casually.

“Do you?” She shot back.

He thought about the question for a moment.

“If she were the wrong person for the job,” he said finally, “I don’t think she’d have gotten this far. The four of you technically completed the job. All of this… wasn’t even part of the plan, as far as I understand.”

Lace chuckled. “That’s a very political answer. But, you’re right. Naimy’s job was to stop Solas if he wouldn’t listen to Varric. That’s what she did.”

Lace looked away from him then, and he sensed the tension rising in her, the sadness. “She stepped up when I… I barely had my feet under me. I just wish…”

Lace shook her head. “I wish she knew Neve and I are here for her, that she doesn’t have to be so strong about it all.”

“I think she will,” Lucanis said gently. “She holds both of you in very high regard. When she is ready, I’m sure it will be the two of you she goes to first.”

“Thanks for… taking care of her. And for listening,” Lace said, eyeing him up and down.

“Of course,” he inclined his head. “Good night, Lace.”

“Good night… Lucanis.”

——————————————————————————

NOTE

There was always going to be a kitchen cat in this scene… now that he’s gone, I wrote in *my* cat. So, this one’s for you, Huckleberry. Now the internet knows how much you loved having your chin scratched.

[jukkariart]

Companion banter with Alectris - Neve Gallus edition

There's a lot of professional courtesy and personal curiosity between Neve and Alectris. They've never worked together in their time with Shadow Dragons, but Neve has met just about enough ex-army people in Dock Town to have some preconceptions and Alectris has read enough papers about the Dock Town detective to have some expectations.

First banter triggered when Alectris and Neve are in party. Triggered after the Venatori encounter. 

Alectris: Didn’t expect you to vouch for me to make it on the team, Gallus

Neve: Well, I didn’t. Tarquin did. 

Alectris: Really? Does he really want to get rid of me so badly?

Neve: I think he’s trying to keep you out of Venatori reach.

Alectris: We should tell him he’s doing a terrible job. 

***

Triggered if party is in Treviso 

Neve: So I’ve heard you’ve been to Seheron. 

Alectris: I wouldn’t put it this casually but yes. 

Neve: Then you must know some tricks about dealing with the Antaam. 

Alectris: Aim for the knees first. When they’re your height it’s easier to hit the head. 

***

Random trigger

Alectris: I’ve heard from Bellara that you’ve made it into papers a few times.

Neve: You know how it is. Gossip sells well in Minrathous. 

Alectris: Must have helped you with your work? Get you more desperate and unlucky clients? 

Neve: We both know there’s no shortage of those in Dock Town. But it did help with getting jobs from Magisters. 

Alectris: I hope you don’t do charity work for them. 

Neve: No, they get triple the rate. If they’re nice. 

***

Random trigger

Alectris: It’s been a while since I worked with a team. Good to have another Shadow Dragon. 

Neve: Don’t tell me you’re sentimental. 

Alectris: snorts Forget I said anything.

***

Triggered in Minrathous

Neve: Since we’re here we should stop by Halos. Best fried fish in Minrathous. 

Alectris: Fried fish? I think I’ll pass. 

Neve: On Halos? You don’t know what you’re missing. 

Alectris: I ate more fish pockets than should be possible. Never gonna look at them the same anyway.

***

Follow up banter

Neve: I’ve been wondering what turned you off from the fish pockets? 

Alectris: A… food safety incident. 

Neve: Bad evening after some rotten portion? 

Alectris: Asphyxiation. Turns out Fog Warriors like adding poisonous fish into food stands. 

***

Alectris: I got you that invitation.

Neve: Thanks. 

N: Not gonna ask why I would need it? 

A: Can’t imagine anyone in their right mind wanting to participate. Which means it’s a job, so the less I know the better. 

N: Keeps her word and doesn’t ask questions? Where have you been my whole life? 

***

Neve: Do you know anyone named Cornel? 

Alectris: I used to, but it was a long time ago. 

N: Tall, dark hair? A scar behind his ear. 

A: It depends who’s asking. 

***

Neve: About Cornel. He’s got a sister, Clara. She’s looking for him. 

Alectris: Clara? But he said… Listen, I make no promises but I’ll ask around. We haven’t spoken in years. 

N: You can just point me in the right direction. 

A: I’m sorry Neve, but it’s best if I keep these contacts to myself. 

***

Alectris: Any word from Clara? 

Neve: She sent her thanks. From Rivain. 

N: But I think you already knew that. 

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Hehehe. For the new book. How far would you say Color would go in his jealousy?

Would he drive Epic away, maybe even badmouth him to Delta? Would he grow increasingly possessive of them, insisting to do everything possible together? Or would he cry and beg, desperate to be loved, wanting to know if he did something wrong for Delta to seek out others and make new friends.

Just how far would his jealousy go?

(I was not kidding when I said that this one would be even angstier than the last. Also if I sound weird, forgive me, it is 12:30 where I live and I am very tired)

Even though there is jealousy, i think Color would more so be driven by an intense fear of abandonment and a deep sense of insecurity that breeds desperation. He doesn’t want to be abandoned—he doesn’t want to be alone, above all else.

He (and likely the souls too) would be deeply concerned and afraid of doing or saying anything that drives Delta away for good—including behaviors like badmouthing their friends. Color also deeply values his morals and beliefs, his sense of integrity and justice, and anything he says or does that seems to go against that or makes him feel like a hypocrite is felt intensely as well—to him, he is suddenly all bad, he is wrong, he is evil and a liar. A horrible person.

(Even if it was just something said impulsively, or out of anger or hurt, or even just a simple ‘human’ mistake that anyone could make. A mistake that Color himself likely wouldn’t hold against anyone else for doing or saying. If Color does it, though, he punishes himself for it—he feels like he’s failing Justice, he’s failing Integrity, and may even be failing Patience and Kindness.)

On top of that, saying something bad about Epic in the spur of the moment would probably send Color spiraling further into self hatred, especially if Delta reacts badly to that, because he doesn’t believe he should be feeling this way at all. He barely even knows the guy by this point, and Color is all too aware that what he’s feeling isn’t rational—but he can’t stop it, and that’s the problem, and it hurts.

But he can’t be alone again, and no one else is going to put up with him the way Delta has, are they? They’d all leave him and forget about him the second he became too much, too clingy and needy. The second he became too much of a burden to bother wasting time dealing with.

I think it’d be more about himself, and about Delta, at the end of the day—then it is about hating or being jealous of Epic, even if Color doesn’t always say or think kind things about him in the height of his intense emotions, and even if saying and thinking those things always make him feel even worse about himself after the fact. Perhaps even starting to think that, if Delta does actually leave or replace him with Epic, then he deserves it.

I could see both given the right conditions, but I think Color’s first instinct would be to punish himself for it—first by trying to suppress everything, every single “bad” thought or feeling about either Delta or Epic, which could trigger stress related dissociation or psychosis episodes—such as auditory hallucinations mostly, possibly surrounding the idea of Delta talking about leaving, or insulting him, or laughing with Epic about him and mocking him, or even of Papyrus.

Color might turn to the behaviors that offer him comfort but ultimately can be harmful, such as binge eating and impulsive buying and spending.

When push comes to shove, such as Delta trying to confront Color about his behaviors lately, trying to talk about it, or even somehow making Color feel trapped or like he can’t leave and cool off, perhaps it triggers Color into an explosive outburst—targeted at Delta.

Accusing him of lying to him all this time, accusing him of having never actually cared about him and seeing Color as a “burden” or “a hassle” or “boring”—in comparison to his new, more fun and funny friend, Epic. Telling him to stop “pretending” to care, etc. This may even lead to the latter, with the crying and desperation.

So basically, if doesn’t have to be one or the other—there can be elements of both, building up to eachother, with Color trying to play a balancing act between how he feels and his fear of abandonment, shame and guilt for feeling that way, and feeling like he’s failing the souls and Delta leading him to try and hide and suppress those emotions.

It’s possible he may even eventually try to distance himself from Delta, in an attempt to protect himself from feeling the pain of Delta’s abandonment (perhaps likely spending more time with others as well, such as Core!Frisk, Ink, the Abyss Team and Lust, trying to distract himself and the creeping thought that maybe he should’ve just stayed in the Void) but also periodically coming back, because Color fears being completely alone entirely and doesn’t like that thought that maybe Delta has noticed he wasn’t there and felt abandoned too, felt the same way Color has been feeling—which Delta would likely notice, and not just let happen without bringing it up.

[cakerybakery]

Still have a headache but the path for this is a lot clearer.

Adam was hurt by Lilith’s choice to leave him and the garden. He was upset and angry, afraid of being alone and abandoned again. The angels never helped him. Just assumed he’d get over it if they gave him a new wife.

Eve was created from Adam, with all those unresolved fears and feelings in her. She doesn’t know where they come from or what they are. She was created broken.

The fruit of knowledge held the promise of fixing her. If she knew why she hurt then maybe she could fix herself?

All the fruit told her was what the pain was called, it couldn’t tell her why it was there. All she knew was it hurt when people left and one day, Adam would leave and it would hurt but it wouldn’t hurt so bad if she pushed him away, if she drove him away, then she wasn’t being abandoned.

Every child they had was going to be as hurt as she was if she didn’t get rid of him sooner. The more they loved him, the worse it would hurt.

But Adam refuses to go, he refuses to be left or to leave. He won’t be alone. Adam digs in as she tells her lies. It doesn’t matter that nearly all the children are clearly his, they’re Lucifer’s. Lucifer doesn’t deserve them, they’re going to be his no matter what. It doesn’t make him a good father. He’s doing this for selfish reasons, to keep from hurting, he’s clinging like a rabid dogs to a bone.

They’re both broken and hurt and trying to keep themselves from being hurt with two opposite reactions to the same pain. Neither of them of irredeemably bad people, they’re injured and backed into a corner.

They live their lives with a bitter pain they can’t fix and they burden humanity with.

When Adam finds out about Charlie, he doesn’t care about her or her needs. He doesn’t care if Lucifer and Charlie have a strained relationship due to crappy communication. In his mind, Lucifer doesn’t deserve to have a child and Adam is going to take her.

Adam is projecting a lot of his resentment over being left onto Lucifer. It doesn’t matter that Lucifer didn’t do anything wrong to him. He’s still hurt and still lashing out. He wants to hurt Lucifer like he was hurt. He wants to take Charlie away.

But Charlie is a a full grown adult. She already has daddy issues and doesn’t need Adam giving her more.

Adam is a rabid dog with a bone though. He digs in the more she rejects him. Getting to the point where she had to outright tell him to stop, she already had a dad and he’s not the best but she loves him and she doesn’t want Adam.

Which gives Adam an idea that if he can’t be her father figure, he can legally be her father if he marries Lucifer. Love doesn’t matter in marriage. He and Eve only ever hate fucked.

Lucifer is not interested, but that doesn’t stop Adam from trying. Dog with a bone. Lucifer isn’t interested in Adam’s propositions of topping him? Adam’s willing to bottom if it gets him what he wants.

It’ll only be after Adam melts down because nothing is working that Lucifer finds out how screwed up Adam is. That as he suspected, Adam is not genuine. That’s he still working with the same broken script he’s had his whole life. When faced with rejection, he latches on harder, desperately to avoid being alone again.

There’s not much that Lucifer can do besides be there for Adam as he works out how to work through his issues and to let things go. That he and Eve were both hurt and kept hurting each other.

There is no quick fix. There is no bad guy. Just, hurt people doing their best to cope in unhealthy ways because they don’t know better.

Sometimes we’re not given the tools to deal with a problem, with a feeling, and we can hurt others unwittingly. Especially if the hurt we have is left to fester.

Adam wasn’t a good dad in this. He’s not going to help anyone. He wasn’t going to teach them or be apart of their lives out of love. It was purely his own issues. That also doesn’t make him a villain. Eve isn’t a villain. There’s no evil. It’s just, hurt people hurt people.

The part I found funny was the over the top way they behaved as a vehicle for the underlining theme.

This might be the headache talking cause it’s hard to have very words stuff. Like in order. So I don’t know how point a got to b.

But like Eve telling Adam she going to fuck Lucifer and have his kids not Adam’s and Adam being like, “well I’ll father the crap out of those kids!” Cause she’s trying to get rid of him but he’s stubborn and being like Fuck you I’ll stick around even harder. Niether being able to back down from a stupid fight.

Eve every time she’s pregnant being like, cheated on you again, bitch! Going to fuck off now, aashole?! And Adam of course being like, Imma going teach this one how to carve, whore! They’re going fucking love me.

Thousands of year later Adam shows up at the meeting with Charlie like, “I’m your new dad! I’ll fucking teach you how to ride a bike.”

Charlie and Lucifer just being like, the fuck is going on? Cause all those kids were Adam’s. But Adam’s committed to fathering the fuck out of “Lucifer’s kids” that when Charlie resisits Adam decides he’s going to get Lucifer to marry him. Cause he he can’t back down.

I dunno man. I just, the part of my brain that doesn’t feel like there’s a needle running through it thinks it’s funny

[ewwww-what]

I don’t think this is going to be important this season but I would really like it to be.

[dykevanny]

every time people misinterpret the ar emails I go even more insane

[quietwingsinthesky]

the amount of time i spend thinking about Even carrying the metacrisis doctor’s fob watch is really quite disproportionate to how much ive fleshed out that part of the story in my head

[chuluoyi]

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

- sylus x reader

you and your lover are hailed and feared, but who would have guessed that behind closed doors, both of you are just that — lovers?

genre/warnings: very suggestive, making out, fluff, comfort, period cramps, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc), loosely based on sylus' secret times: midnight warmth & exclusive care!

note: very self-indulgent bye pls don't look at me :') this fic is a companion to assassin!reader series (strictly (un)professional and jealousy incarnate)

“Who’s ther— lord! Missus! What happened to you!?”

On a rainy night, you staggered into the base, drenched and covered with dirt. Your steps were unsteady as you made your way through the front door, and the first person to see you, Luke, was so shocked by the sight that he rushed to your side.

“Kieran! Call Boss!” he shouted to his twin, who immediately sprinted off to find him, steadying you. “Are you injured?”

“No,” you hissed, wincing as you clutched your abdomen. “Let go, I’m fine—” But before you could finish, you missed a step and—

—fell into Luke's arms.

In that very instant, Luke genuinely feared for his life. He squeaked and stammered, incoherent sounds escaping him, because oh lord— if Boss sees me ever touching his woman—

“What are you doing?”

And there came his nightmare. Sylus’ deep voice cut through like a blade, marking the arrival of doomsday itself.

“B-Boss! It isn’t what it looks like!” Luke quivered, desperately trying to explain himself.

However, Sylus paid him no mind and exhaled sharply, immediately moving over to pull you out of Luke’s grasp. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine!” you insisted, pulling away from him while staggering. “I’m not wounded or anything. Just... I just need a bath, please.”

Sylus eyed you from top to bottom. You had just been out for a reconnaissance, and yet you looked as though you had been through a tornado and back. Disheveled, your dress was smeared with mud and dirt, and even grime clung to your hair.

“Did you fall into a sewer or something?” he questioned, and he knew he had hit a nerve when you shot him a glare.

But you spared him no answer, walking away with labored breaths and a hand pressed against your lower belly. It was clear you were in pain, and the sight tugged at him as he followed you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his concern growing. “What hurts?”

“You don’t have to fuss over me—” your breath hitched, feeling exhausted, and ashamed all at once. “Just my period, nothing much,” you murmured in a quieter voice so the twins wouldn’t hear.

As you reached the stairs to the second floor, you felt like collapsing. Did you really have to climb these stairs, too?

As if reading your mind, Sylus let out a sigh, but you nearly squealed when he lifted you into his arms.

“You’ll get dirty!” you rebuked, even as he took large strides up the stairs. “Sylus!”

“Just hold onto me.” He shot you a pointed look. “You can’t even walk without gasping for air, and you still want to climb the stairs? You’ll end up rolling and breaking your back.”

Despite your protests, your lover immediately brought you to his bathroom and sat you down on the sink. He turned the hot water on and then faced you.

“So? What did you get yourself into?” he asked, his red eyes narrowing in dissatisfaction. “You were fine, and you didn’t face anyone.”

You pressed your eyes shut, leaning against the wall, resigned to explain. “Fell into mud. Totally idiotic, I know, but my cramps started right before, so…”

“I don’t recall you experiencing this before. What brought this on?”

You met his gaze indignantly, retorting, “Well, a certain someone banged me so hard last night, and I got my period right after.”

It was quite unexpected, but still answered his concern. So, to that, Sylus snorted and tousled your hair, a playful twinkle in his eyes. “Ah, sorry, I guess?”

You pursed your lips, aware of how unapologetic he was. He smirked and added, “Now that I’m dirty too... I suppose we’ll have to take a bath together.”

“Are you mad? Do you want to get covered in my blood?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Why not—”

“No,” you retorted firmly, clearly irked. “You take the bath after me, and that’s final.”

. . .

“Put your arm around my neck,” Sylus commanded when you both emerged from the bath and already dressed in silk bathrobes. You complied, and he swiftly lifted you into a princess carry, bringing you to the bed.

Despite yourself, your heart fluttered at his action. He set you down gently, and the moment your back met the soft surface, you relished it and let out an involuntary moan. “Ahh...”

Your voice was soft and sultry, though tinged with a hint of pain. Sylus placed his hand gently on your face. “Your cheeks are warm,” he noted. “And you still look pale.”

"Mmm," you mumbled, suddenly the total fatigue catching up to you as you leaned into his touch. Seeing you so pliant like this seemed to flip a switch inside him, and he immediately settled next to you and placed his huge hand on your lower belly, pressing down on it.

“What are you doing?” you frowned.

“I’m giving you a massage,” he replied. “Stop squirming. I’m trying to pamper you here.”

“You don’t have to…”

“My woman is in enough pain that she doesn’t talk back to me. It’s feels off.”

“...actually, you suck. You’re too rough.”

Taking your whine into account, he adjusted his touch, softening his pressure. "How is it? Better?"

You didn’t immediately reply, indulging in the warm sensation, letting out a sigh as you squeezed your eyes shut. “Mm... Yeah, it feels good now. Don’t stop…”

There was something quietly erotic about watching you, usually so defiant, surrender to his touch like this. Sylus felt a deep, protective satisfaction as he continued his gentle ministrations—

But after a while...

Before he could stop himself, he leaned in, pulling you closer as he buried his face in your shoulder, inhaling deeply, savoring the scent of the bath foam you had just shared. “Mmm…”

You were caught off-guard and shivered at his breath tickling your skin, eyes fluttering open. “Sylus…” you murmured, a mix of protest and surprise in your voice.

But he didn’t pull away, his lips lingering against your skin, his gaze fixed on your bare neck, whispering, “Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Then, when he suddenly nibbled on your neck, you jolted awake. The gentle bite on your sensitive skin sent another shiver down your spine, stirring a mix of warmth that made your pulse race.

But he didn't stop there, as Sylus trailed your neck with a series of kisses and wet sucks, his breath hot against your skin. Soon, the only sounds filling the room were his quiet sighs and the soft noises of his lips as he continued to bite and pepper kisses on your skin, over and over.

“Ngh…” Each touch left you almost breathless, and the heat between you growing with every passing moment, making your toes curl and you moan softly by his ear.

“Hold me,” he gruffly whispered, and as if bewitched, you clung to his shoulders. He let out a husky chuckle. “Not too hard, or you won't be able to sleep later.”

“And whose fault would that be?” you quipped, entangling your legs with his, savoring the warmth of his body against yours.

“I’ve spoiled you rotten, haven’t I... sweetie?” he murmured amidst kisses, his tone laced with intrigue and his burgundy eyes flashing with a glint. “Just let me have my fill for a while.”

If you had a mirror, you’d see the hickeys forming on your neck, but instead of fighting him, you pulled him closer, letting out breathy moans freely and massaging his scalp as if urging him to go further.

“Naughty vixen—you are,” Sylus rasped deliciously in your ear, thick with desire and restraint as his grip on you tightened. “Tempting me, knowing full well I can’t do anything to you…”

A low giggle slipped from your lips. “Unfortunately… I learn from the best.”

Hard to get, snarky, taunting... You were the bane of his existence, and yet Sylus wouldn't have it another way. Your defiance and teasing only deepened his affection, making every challenge you presented feel like an irresistible part of what drew him to you.

He knew when his patience was on the verge of snapping, so to end it, he sucked hard on your shoulder one last time, making sure to leave another mark there. The squelching sound reverberated through both of you, before he pulled away and planted a firm kiss on your forehead, a gesture of both dominance and fondness for you.

“Now sleep,” he grounded out. “Your body has been through enough.”

“Mngh...” you whined, curling into him in contentment, your head nestled against his toned chest where you could feel his strong, steady heartbeat. “Really unfair...”

“You're going to feel better soon...” he sighed, one hand soothing your back and the other resting on your waist. “And as soon as you do...”

A wicked grin curved his lips.

“I'll pick up where I left off.”

[miihho]

THE KIND OF GUY

( squid game edition boys ) nsfw

Frontman / 001 /

— HE'S THE KIND OF GUY who’d manipulate you subtly, weaving himself so deeply into your life that you wouldn’t realize until it’s too late that he’s made himself the sole person you can rely on, the only one you can trust.

— He’s the kind of guy who rarely lets anyone get close, especially in a place like this. As the Frontman, he’s used to controlling everything with precision and cold detachment. But when it comes to you, something shifts. The games are brutal, unforgiving, but he finds ways to make sure you get a little more help—extra food to keep you going, or a quiet word to the guards to make sure they would help you. He doesn’t do this for anyone else, but for you, he bends the rules just enough to keep you alive, his actions hidden beneath the mask but speaking volumes about the care he won’t openly admit.

— The kind of guy who’d undress you with his eyes from across the room, watching you as you laugh and chat with your teammates, completely unaware of the intensity of his gaze. His stare is almost predatory, soaking in every detail, devouring you without a single word.

— The kind of guy who never shows his jealousy outright, keeping his emotions carefully concealed behind a calm exterior. But his eyes—sharp and piercing—will find the person you’re talking to, delivering a silent, bone-chilling warning. Without a word, he makes them feel exposed, unsettled, and unwelcome.

As their confidence crumbles under his unrelenting gaze, they’ll stammer some flimsy excuse, their discomfort driving them to leave in a hurry. You, sweet and oblivious, will watch them go, your mind never grasping the quiet dominance he just asserted.

And when the space between you clears, he’ll step in with perfect timing, his presence effortlessly stealing your focus. His voice will be warm, his words lighthearted, drawing you into an easy conversation as if nothing had happened.

— The kind of guy who always gets what he wants, and if he’s set his sights on you, nothing and no one will stand in his way. Anyone who tries to come between you and him is dealt with swiftly—whether it’s a rival or someone foolish enough to fall for you. If they dare challenge him, they’re as good as gone.

— In sex, he’s the kind of guy who revels in your every movement, his hands gripping your waist with just the right amount of force. “Good girl,” he’d murmur, his voice low and dripping with desire, each word sending shivers down your spine. “That’s it, attagirl,” he’d whisper, his eyes locked onto yours, dark and filled with raw admiration, as if every move you made was crafted to drive him wild.

If you’re straddling him, bouncing on his cock with desperate urgency, he’d lean back against the wall, his head tilting slightly as his eyes flutter shut, a deep, guttural moan spilling from his lips. His fingers digging into your waist, controlling your movements with a firm, possessive grip as his ragged breaths mingled with husky groans. “Fuck, you feel so good—so tight, so perfect,” he’d rasp, his voice dripping with raw hunger. The words would make your pace falter for just a heartbeat before his hands tightened on your hips, driving you down harder, faster, his need for you utterly insatiable.

But if he’s mad at you, it’s completely different. He’d have you on your stomach, your back arched as he pushes your head down into the bed, his breath hot against your ear as he growls, “Such a fucking bad girl.” in a deep, rough voice that makes your body shudder. His frustration would translate into every powerful thrust, his movements unrelenting as your muffled cries echo into the pillow. The way he claims you, rough and demanding, would send you spiraling, your body surrendering completely as he makes sure you feel every inch of his cock.

— He’d absolutely be the type to let you cockwarm him while he’s busy, his focus shifting between his work and the needy little whines you make every time you shift in his lap. His hand would lazily rest on your thigh, occasionally gripping tighter when you squirm too much, a silent warning to behave.

But when you get too desperate, too needy for him to ignore, he’d smirk, shifting his hips just enough to tease you, his cock pressing against all the right spots. “Patience, baby,” he’d murmur, his voice dripping with amusement as you let out a frustrated whimper.

And when he finally indulges you, he leans back on the couch, drink in hand, watching as you take control, bouncing up and down on his cock with reckless abandon. His eyes stay locked on you, hungry and half-lidded, while he takes a slow sip of his drink. The big screen glows in the background, but his full attention is on the way you move, the way you moan his name like it’s the only word you know.

“Look at you,” he’d groan, his voice low and thick. “So fucking desperate for me, riding my cock like a good girl. Keep going, baby—show me how much you need it.” And when you finally fall apart, trembling in his lap, he’ll just chuckle, pulling you close to kiss you as if rewarding you for putting on the perfect show.

— He’s the kind of man who makes your whole body burn. His panting breaths, low grunts, and the slick sheen of sweat gliding down his chiseled abs are enough to drive you mad. His hand pushes back his messy hair, but that one strand falls stubbornly over his forehead, making him look devastatingly wrecked as his tired, lust-heavy eyes lock onto yours. Each deep thrust is accompanied by a guttural sound from deep in his chest, the intensity in his gaze leaving you utterly undone. He’d lift you like you weigh nothing, slamming you onto the bed with a feral growl. His tie is gone in seconds, ripped away and tossed aside as his jaw clenches, every move commanding your attention and submission.

You were utterly wrecked beneath him, legs spread wide on his bed, your body trembling as his fingers plunged into you, hitting every spot that made your back arch off the sheets. His smirk was downright sinful as he watched you fall apart, his voice low and teasing.

“Feel good, baby?” he asked, though he already knew the answer. The way your thighs quivered and your nails dug into his back said it all. He chuckled when all you could do was nod, your breathless moans spilling out as his fingers worked you mercilessly. You’d already cum twice, your mind foggy and body pliant, but he wasn’t done with you. His dark, lust-filled eyes pinned you in place, making you feel even more exposed, more vulnerable, and it only made you crave him more.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Gotta make sure you’re ready for me, baby. Can’t have my girl getting hurt when I stretch this pretty little pussy out.” His words were sweet and filthy all at once, paired with soft kisses along your jaw and forehead that contrasted with the way his fingers fucked into you.

When he finally pulled his fingers out, leaving you aching and desperate, he unzipped himself, letting his cock spring free, already slick with precum. He stroked himself slowly, teasing you as your eyes went wide, taking in how thick and hard he was.

“See this, baby? All of it’s for you.”

As he pressed into you, inch by inch, your walls stretched to take him, the fullness almost too much to bear. You cried out, clutching at him, but he only groaned deeply, his voice husky. “Fuck… this tight little pussy was made for me,” he rasped, his hips sinking into you completely.

“You’re taking me so well, baby,” he said, his breath hot against your lips as he leaned in to kiss you deeply. His thrusts started slow, deliberate, every movement sending shockwaves through your body.

“fuck, you’re perfect… so good for me, taking every inch like the sweet little slut you are.” His praise was filthy, his tone raw, and the way his body pinned yours down left you completely at his mercy.

HI I'M BACK! also Happy new year everyone! Which person should i do next? Thanos? Salesman? Player 333? Lmk!

[screampied]

FAKIN’ IT FOR YOU ?! ☆

gojo, sukuna, nanami, toji, choso. faking an orgasm n how they react

cw. fem! reader, unprotected, faking órgasms, praise, filthy dirty talk, orgasm denial, first time squirt (choso), öral (f! receiving), nipple play, impact play, manhandling, req by anon, mdni. total wc 3.7k

★ TOJI FUSHIGURO

“what the fuck was that?”

he wouldn’t even care he was balls deep—you can’t even try to fake an orgasm with toji because he’ll immediately know. toji knows every inch of your body—he studies it like one would study for an exam, every particular nerve, he knows how to hit it until you break. yet, the moment you decide to fake your release, all hell breaks loose. you’d be on all fours as he stops his churlish hits against you, a hand of his gathers a firm amount of your hair before he tightly yokes it back. sweetly, you play coy and moan, “what was what?”

“let’s not,” toji grumbles, and he’s annoyed. you can hear the extra grit linger underneath his tone as he speaks. ravened eyebrows of his curve into a frustrated furrow before he pulls out. it was so abrupt, you whine before he gives your ass a rude spank, darting his eyes away with an eye roll. “oh, please, girl. was that a fake moan too?”

“it wasn’t f-fake,” you protest, and you’re suddenly quiet from the way he rubs his fatten swollen tip against your soddened entrance. toji could read you like a book though—you weren’t bullshitting anyone. you was so close but instead, you decided to be a bit more of a brat, kind of desperate to see toji’s reaction.

all toji does is pull out. you whine, the friction titillating against every number of nerves hidden within your body before he spanks your ass again. “faking an orgasm for me, girl bye.” and as he speaks, you could hear his sheer vexation. toji brings your hips up to him, having your face laid down against the woolly mattress before he wraps a hand around his shaft. giving it a few pumps, he starts to slap his tip against your entrance. “got some balls, girl. i’ll give ya that.”

“w- why’d you pull out?” you whimper, making a cute attempt at grinding your rear against him. toji snickers, drubbing his plump cockhead against your slit, pushing it in—only to pull it right back out. the dewy squashes your pussy makes only rings against your ears further. all you feel is pure static, you’re panting, chest heaving, everything and above.

with a secure grip against a nice chunk of your hair, toji groans. “b- because i fuckin’ cannn,” he mocks your faltering stutter, a palm of his bedaubing against your folds before spanking it silly. “ooh,” he purrs, watching your thighs shimmy upon impact. you bite your lip, trying to rut yourself further against him and he only resumes to rub his rounded fat tip between your slit. desperately, you try to swallow him whole but before you could even attempt — toji pulls it back out, slapping his hefty cock onto your pussy again and again. “got some nerve faking an orgasm with me when y’er this soaked already.”

“f-fuck,” a mewl dies out your throat as you feel him continue to smear his rotund cockhead all over your most sensitive parts. with your back hunched over, pretty thighs parted, you let off a bratty giggle. huffing out a sweet sigh, you hum, “it’s just … you’re getting a bit old, toji. didn’t wanna be mean.”

toji’s left eye twitches. as he ghosts a few fingers against your cunt — he slowly inserts two thick fingers inside of your lewd opening before pulling his digits back out. “old, huh?” and he flips you over to look straight at him. sable hairs of his run down his brows before he slyly smiles. a gasp wretches out from your throat before he shoves both of your knees up to your chest, realigning himself. with a husky grunt, he snarls. “don’t play with me. old or not i’ll still break this bed, whore.”

“d- do it then.” you almost simper but he cups a hand over your face.

“tch, such a mouth on ya. ain’t nothin’ a few orgasms won’t fix,” and you moan once he starts to finally make his way inside of you. the girth of toji thickens and dilates throughout your walls and you feel his grip tighten against your knees. as the bed starts to creak in harmony again, he darkly cackles, hot breath aerating against your neck. “oh, and just a heads up baby. when i break this bed, ‘s coming out of your pocket to replace it. ‘ppreciate it.”

★ CHOSO KAMO

“h-huh,” he’d stammer in short briskly breaths. choso doesn’t realize you fake it until he actually realizes something wasn’t right. with him being propped up between your plush thighs, he gently gnaws against your chin, panting heavily. “baby, did you just fake your orgasm?”

you only give him a sheepish grin and choso pouts, he leans in to kiss your pout, soft sweet kisses gluing against your chin before he whines. “that… wasn’t nice,” and he buries his face into his neck. choso’s only teasing—but in the case that you do fake an orgasm with him, he’s more than determined to make you cum at least ten times harder. choso would have you laying flat on your back, gradually easing himself back into your sopping accepting walls before he whines. “oh f-fuck,” he’d gasp, feeling you immediately engulf around his length. he’s throbbing into you, various veins that run down his shaft pulse inside of you. your legs immensely snake around his waist before he starts to deeply drill into you.

choso’s pace is different this time — it’s much more frantic, he’s still whimpering praises into your ear as he’s plummeting his dick within your gummy clingy walls. “mhm, just like that baby. s-so good,” you’d mewl out, his hips continuing to drive into you at a full smacking speed. it’s addictive, the way his sharp hips rotate against you—you feel your tongue hang out before he leans in to suck on it.

you’ve always tasted so sweet, choso’s moans only grow louder as he starts to tap against that same spot buried inside of your cunt. he knows your moans are for real this time because of your body language—how you cling onto him tightly with your giddy arms and legs, biting down onto his right shoulder in pure pleasure. “fuck, fuck right there baby. that’s it, that spot, pleaseee.”

choso could have came alone from your melodic words of encouragement. you’re all stupefied with your eyes crossed, warm hot bodies clashing against each other in sync. he whimpers, feeling his thighs ache near the undersides before his hefty cock reaches yet another deep spot. your legs were steadfastly wrapped around his torso, making sure he’d never leave. “come on baby, give me one, please. gimme a real one,” and he licks a long stripe up your neck. “give it to me, make a mess on m-me so i can clean you right up.”

as you’re positioned in a sprawled way, choso’s hands roam towards your neglected bouncing tits. his head lowers down to suck against them as his hips go slow. a growing pool of heat resides near your lower abdomen as his delicious inches drill in and out of you. “f-fuck, ‘cho. ‘s coming, feel w-wet.”

“let go on me, please,” he purrs, his tongue licking against your sensitive nipples. after a while, he csnt help but start to suck against your precious mounds, moaning as you cup his face to look at you. choso grinds against you, verbosely slowing himself down before you let off a real shriek. as the coarse smacks against each body pitched louder and loduer, you feel yourself zealously jolt forward before you feel a sudden sensation gush out of you. the velocity of it all was soaking — you’re panting, chest heaving as you try to recollect breaths before you feel yourself spouting out more onto your boyfriend. choso pauses, his pink dampened lips quavering as he leans in to give you a sloppy kiss on your mouth. “baby,” his eyelids lowers, and he’s puffing for air right with you. a hand of his trails down between your thighs, lifting up your legs before he moans. “did you just squirt on me…?”

feeling a drenching pool of saliva coat into your mouth, you whine out a timid, “y- yes.”

giving you a hungry gaze, his dick twitches inside of you before he pulls out to watch the remnants of your own slick spill out. “o- oh wow,” he gawks at the filthy scenery right before his eyes. in a gruff voice, choso bites his lip, leaning down to press a final delicate kiss against your pussy. “mwah,” his warm lips ghost against your now drenched folds. he can’t help but lick against it, savoring your sweetened taste before he looks up at you with a pleading look in his eyes. “do.. do you think you can squirt for me one more time? pretty please. need you s-so bad.”

★ SUKUNA RYŌMEN

the audacity was beyond him—he knows right away, sukuna was no foolish curse.

if it was anything he knew by heart, it was your body. whenever you’re about to orgasm, he likes to stare dead into your eyes whilst he’s giving you his all. slow yet deadly strokes, he likes draining the pleasure out of you with the thick inches of his cock. oh, how his favorite part was to just hear your babbling little voice sob out his name over and over like a looping vinyl on a record player. your adorable cacophonies of “right there, right there,” and “gonna cum, ‘kuna,” and many more, many of which they all never fail to reverb across the padded walls of his sacred chambers.

although, he can easily tell from how it’s real or fake. sukuna gets up close—hearing the sounds of your heavy breaths as your legs wrap around his waist. as you’re taking in every part of his bare long length, your arms sling around him. you’re a mess underneath him, jostling against his beefy built body. the demon’s pure smoldering heat colliding against yours only makes you throb at a much quicker pace. his scent, you bury your face into the crook of his neck. “i-i’m close, ‘kuna.” you’d mewl out in a desperate cry, hearing his low animalistic growls all close up against the outer shell of your ear.

he knows,

you didn’t even have to remind him, he knows your body. it was his priceless treasure. sukuna groans as you claw your fingernails into the deep depths of his back. his thickened base resumes to jackhammer into your tight sticky walls furthermore until you croak. he’s just so big, you jaw was dangling open all stupid like before it finally comes— that familiar squeal he’s grown to love. his favorite part.

as your cunt sloshes against the repetitive thwacks against it, you whine out your finish—yet he notices something quite peculiar about your concluding climax. as you lean your back, doe eyes staring into the ceiling, his pointed ears twitch at the way you elongated that single orgasmic syllable. “think you’re so funny,” he says as he waits for your seven second orgasm to come to a closing halt. crimson red eyes makes your tummy churn as you meet his stern gaze and he grips your chin. “little girl, you’re playin’ a dangerous game.”

“w- what?” you coyly mutter, an almost smile pulls against each side of your lips before he glares at you.

sukuna pulls out and you gasp, your ankle brushing against the back of his torso and he squeezes your lips together. “brat,” he snarls, his tone all rough and husky. a free hand of sukuna’s sneaks down between your pried open legs to feel against your pussy. a real moan snatches out from your throat as he rubs sloppy circles against it, only to smack it again, and again, and again. your eyes start to roll as he continues to pace. you’re so soaked that it starts to coat his hand. “look at you. can’t get off to dick but you came just from a few pussy smacks? tch.”

“m-more, ‘kuna. don’t stop pleaseee.” you pant, feeling your tummy cave in as you’re directly underneath him. his weight hovers above you as he still grips your cheeks together, giving you a hot, steamy kiss. sukuna’s forked tongue glides against yours and you whimper in his mouth before he lightly pushes you off. you ‘oof’ back onto the fat padded mattress with a pout as he gets up. with a saddened frown, you sit up to whine. “where— where are you going?”

sukuna fixes his kimono before giving you an annoyed glower. “don’t worry about that. worry about how you’re gonna make that pathetic pussy finish since i apparently can’t make you cum,” and he snickers at your little grumbles before he walks out. “change the sheets when you’re done. fuckin’ wet girl.”

★ NANAMI KENTO

“…oh,” a deep voice groans from behind you. nanami’s voice was low, his simple oh sounded offended more than anything. most of the time he doesn’t really have you on all fours, doggystyle. but today, you were being a bit of a brat. nanami doesn’t mind your little antics, but if it’s to a point where he has to remind you of your place, he will. nanami’s thick cock was plunging in and out of you before he abruptly stops, slowing down once you ‘release.’

your moan sounded a bit too dramatic than usual, you gulp as he lightly grips onto the back of your shirt.

“oh….what?” you’d moan out, and you glance at the mirror that’s propped up in front of the both of you. there—you see nanami with a look of what seems to be mere irritation. nevertheless though, it’s hot. the way his gentle fawn irises burn into you, perfectly arched brows of his lower and a scowl forms onto his lips. he was still fully clothed, just his slacks from work hanging low. out of nowhere, he gives your ass a mean spank.

nanami sighs, feeling his dick that was stuffed inside of you twitch from the inside. “let’s not ask silly questions, my love. you faked that one, didn’t you?” and despite how sweet and alluring his delivery was—you heard a faint rasp in his voice, the baritone as he speaks makes you even more wetter than you already were.

you pout, not fond of how he stopped fucking you, you wanted more—you couldn’t help but be greedy for more of him.

“i didn’t,” you lie through your teeth, arching forward in a cute teasing attempt for him to finish drilling into you. nanami doesn’t follow through though, instead—he gathers a strong yet gentle grip of your hair. as his veins coarse through him, his hefty arms bulge as he pulls you forward to stare at your pathetic needy reflection. “f-finish fucking me, ‘ken. why’d you s-stop?”

“why should i continue, sweetheart? tell me that,” and his words were nothing more but a soft purr. his interest was suddenly piqued—you’ve never faked one of your orgasms before, at least not with him. as you lie on your chest, he takes a peek at your ass before letting off another low sigh. nanami gets directly up close to you before he delicately tightens the grip around your hair a tad bit. “ah, don’t be shy now. tell me what ‘m not doing right to make this pussy feel good. i know you faked it, my love.”

your breath hitches as nanami presses his weight against you—his throbbing cock buries itself between your entrance but he’s not even in fully.

he’s just … idle, his shaft remains near you and you whine from the feeling of him not moving.

“i was just p-playing,” you whine, feeling your perky nipples rub against the satiny-made sheets. whilst you smear your glossy lips together, you grind your hips against your husband. “just wanted attention, ‘ken.”

“my wife,” he whispers, planting a hot kiss near the nape of your neck. his touch alone could make you finish. it was that easy, nanami’s fingers skim against your waist before he sucks gently against your collarbone. “there’s other ways to get my attention, you know that,” and his voice softens by a mile. he’s always gentle with you, his throbbing cock all swollen and built up of so much volumes of seed that he was preparing to give to you. “ugh, having you bent over like this ‘s drivin’ me crazy,” he abruptly admits, feeling you wriggle your ass against his cock that was stuffed between the very temples of your ass. “but,” he swallows, sneaking another kiss, this time against your earlobe. “if i give you another orgasm, ‘s it gonna be real this time?”

“y- yes, promise,” you moan, desperate for him to go back inside. nanami’s hands grab onto your hips now as he pulls them up, relishing in your little arch you’ve got going on for only his eyes to see. you’re gorgeous, he huffs out a few breaths as you take your time to whine out your little words of desire. “won’t fake it anymore, jus’ finish fucking me, please.”

nanami groans—his fingers wrapping around his fat length, giving it a few mere pumps before he prods it against your hungry swallowing slit. “atta girl. keep that arch f’me, yeah,” he sucks his teeth, raising his chin up to where his jawline makes an appearance. “now,” he whispers, deepening his voice as he spreads your legs, making your right cheek sink into the cottony pillow. “let’s try this again. let’s see if i can get a little squirt out of you, sweetheart.”

★ SATORU GOJO

once he finds out you faked your orgasm, it significantly bruises his ego—he tries to play it off with a sheepish cackle cutting out of his throat. “heh, i can fake an orgasm better than that, y’know.” he’d mutter, yet you could hear the little tremor in gojo’s tone. he was quite literally pounding into you before he makes you lie down flat against his chest. he makes you spread your legs for him, exposing your dripping pussy before he pinches your clit. you moan, feeling gojo’s bulge brush off against your ass. “kinda hurt my feelings, hmph.”

“i didn’t f-fake it—” you try to lie. with his fingers rummaging near the inside of your cunt, it had you biting back your words in regret. you lean back against his chest, legs all spread and you start to squirm before he hums against your ear.

“squirmy today aren’t we?” gojo jeers with an impish smile. he titters at the way your legs judder all because of the indecourous stimulation. each tantalizing twitch makes him wanna rub his fingers against your clit even quicker. “if you don’t wanna gimme an orgasm, i’ll just have to do it myself, angel.”

you clench onto his thigh, allowing pleasure to overtake you before his fingertips skid against that familiar spot. now— your moans were very much real, gojo’s fingers was so lengthy that he could reach you in areas his own dick probably couldn’t locate. as your eyelids feel heavy, they shut before another whine leaves your mouth. he still keeps up his pace, maneuvering all kinds of circles over your pussy in a rotation manner before your thighs start to shudder in ecstasy.

“satoru, satoruuuu,” a heavenly sounded whimper dies out your throat. you only then roughly gnaw down on your lip, a cute try at trying to suppress your little moans. “don’t think i can c-cum anymore, ‘s good fuckk.”

he chuckles, kissing the top of your head. “yes you can, i know you can baby,” he whispers, and that’s when he moves again, moving himself between your legs this time. gojo brings a chaste kiss towards your pussy, slithery strings of saliva peeling from your folds and it’s so sloppy. immediately, his lips get all moist and muggy with your honeyed slit. he creates a bowling ball grip with two lengthy fingers, shoving the two of them in and out before he blows parching hot air against your cunt. “gotta get my baby a little wetter.” he whispers, watching you pulse from the inside. within seconds, you happily coat your boyfriend's fingers with your dingy sheet arousal before he slowly vigorously continues to knead various circles and shapes against your swollen nub. you were throbbing laboriously, pulse after pulse as you panting repeats itself as if you’re running a marathon.

gojo lolls out his long wet tongue against your pretty pussy, savoring your candied taste as he feels you roughly joggle against his mouth. hot puffs of pants fans against your folds as he chuckles, and he then starts to spank your pussy raw. one spank turns into two, then three, then four . .

you didn’t want him to stop anytime soon—his guzzling greedy sucks against your clit only makes you spasm out even faster. by now, you don’t even remember why you faked your orgasm because the real one was finally about to present itself. it’s coming to you like a tsunami wave, you can’t predict it but it’s preparing to crash into you all at once. the build up has you almost drooling before you grip onto his his meaty thigh.

“s-satoru— something’s hnghhh coming. oh my goddd,” and you’re trapped in a haze, yet gojo doesn’t stop there. he’s so offended that he doesn’t just make you cream on his fingers. he makes you squirt on them too, gushing out so much the that sheets are now all soaked thanks to you. whilst your tummy heaves, your legs feel all numb and not before long, he makes you squirt again. your jaw cutely sways itself open as you lie back on the mattress, feeling the few spurts trickle out of you slowly. “f-fuck,” you whine, and your voice is all strained and tiny.

gojo hums before he starts making out with your pussy. his eyes close as if he’s actually kissing you, each smooch sounds more sloppy by the second before he pulls out his fingers, sitting up to slide them into your mouth. “taste yourself baby. now thaaaat’s how you orgasm,” and as you take his digits into your mouth with droopy eyes, your tongue swirls all around his fingertips. as you moan amply from your own taste, he wrenches out his fingers before sneaking a two second kiss on your lips. “awww, don’t tap out on me now. you can give ‘toru one more, right?”