#the evil inside out 2 song

[dancingbirdie]

Okay so on Astarion, I was reading this fic about him not knowing Tavs true intentions with him and it bothering Astarion a lot, so what if he goes to some mage or magic user and asks them to show Tavs true intentions to him, when he does the vision he sees is just... being snuggled. It's Tav on top of him and the both of you are falling asleep, his hands are under your shirt softly petting your skin as your sleepy self is contently snuggled up to him. I just start crying about him finding out that Tavs DASTARDLY and EVIL plan with him, their greatest desire from him... is to simply be held. 🥺

Hi @goblin-creatcher! Thank you so much for this BEAUTIFUL prompt. I, uhh, kind of took it and went a million miles an hour with it. This is honestly one of my favorite things I've ever written. I hope you enjoy it as well! xoxoxo

Something Imagined / Something Real

Word Count: 3.9K

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Astarion x f!Tav

Warnings/Tags: Brief but detailed description of rough consensual sex, descriptions and references to Astarion's trauma/trauma responses, minor Act 1 and Act 2 spoilers, FLUFF, angst

Suggested Song Pairing: Slow Dancing in A Burning Room (Stripped) - cover by ST LUNA

Summary: Astarion has been suspicious of Tav’s true intentions toward him. He persuades Gale to cast a spell and reveal her motivations. ANGST and FLUFF ensue. A rewriting of Astarion’s confession scene from Act 2.

The sun had just begun to set on the campsite when Astarion decided to put his plan into action. He had waited until Tav departed with some of the other party members before making his way over to the wizard. Gale was too busy reassembling the bookshelf inside his tent to notice Astarion’s approach. It wasn’t until he gave a polite cough that Gale jumped and whirled to face him. 

“No, no, no,” he began all at once, hands raised in a sort of shooing motion. Astarion stared at him in confusion. “I can respect Tav’s indulging in your need for blood, but as I’ve said before: I taste terrible.” 

Astarion scoffed. “Charming. Actually, wizard, I was coming to request your aid in a different, though somewhat related, matter.”

“Really? Care to elaborate?” Gale responded, still somewhat wary. It wasn’t often he found himself alone with the vampire. 

“Testy, I see,” Astarion crooned teasingly. His knee-jerk response to people treating him like a monster, to behave in the most false saccharine sort of way. 

But he drew up short, censoring himself before saying anything else he might regret. He knew he needed to get on the wizard’s good side if he had any chance of getting the answers he sought. 

“I was hoping you knew a spell to reveal someone’s true intentions. Their… motivations for behaving in a certain way, so to speak,” he finished more seriously. 

Gale pondered the question for a moment before answering. 

“Hmm… yes, there is magic to determine that sort of thing… Although it’s been some time since I practiced it…” He trailed off, rubbing his chin in thought. 

“Why are you asking for such a thing?” he asked suddenly. 

Astarion had been prepared for this question, of course. No one did anything for free, no questions asked. He delivered his explanation perfectly, as he’d been rehearsing in his mind.

“One might say our dear sweet Tav and I have been growing a bit… closer these days, but I can sense a master manipulator when I see one. I just simply want to ensure their intentions toward me - toward the party - are true,” he replied with mock innocence. 

“Ah, yes,” Gale nodded. “I gathered as much when the two of you slipped away from the tiefling’s party a few nights ago.” 

“But,” he continued on,”I needn’t think you should worry when it comes to Tav. She seems about as transparent as they come. I’m sure any intentions she has toward you are true.”

Yes, but the best actors always mask their motivations behind innocence and transparency, Astarion thought to himself. I should know. I’ve been doing it for centuries.

After the party’s unfortunate meeting with that Gur in the Sunlit Wetlands, Astarion realized he would have to take potential threats from Cazador even more seriously. He wasn’t about to lose his freedom, not now that he finally had some small taste of it. 

It didn’t hurt to be more suspicious of everyone he encountered, even the sweetling Tav. Anyone could be an operative sent by Cazador, and the best ones would be as skilled as he was in the art of manipulation. It was well-known at this point that the person he’d grown the closest to on their journey was their brave party leader, Tav. Unlikely as it may be that she was scheming for his master, Astarion’s paranoia wouldn’t let him indulge in interactions with her a second longer unless he knew how she truly felt. 

Given Gale’s hesitation, Astarion knew he would have to kick his acting up a notch. Press on that wizard’s heartstrings. Touch the one nerve he knew he was sensitive to.

“Gale, darling, from one literally damaged soul to another, indulge me just this once,” Astarion beseeched him. 

The wizard glared at him a moment, before finally relenting with a heavy sigh. “Fine. Fine. But I want it known that I don’t agree with this so-called solution one whit,” he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Yes, yes, noted and formally documented, on my word as a former Baldurian magistrate,” Astarion replied cheerily. “So, let’s hop to it then, shall we?”

“What, right now?” Gale asked, shocked. “Shouldn’t we be, I don’t know, a little less conspicuous?” 

“What better time than now?” Astarion responded. “Tav’s out gathering firewood with Wyll and Karlach. They won’t be back for some time. As for Lae’zel and Shadowheart, well…” he paused, gesturing over his shoulder. 

Said two were engaged in a heated sparring session on the outskirts of the camp. Snarls and curses could be heard emanating from both warriors as they tried, and failed, to gain the upper hand against their opponent.

“That lovers’ dance could go on until morning,” Astarion finished. 

“Fair point,” Gale admitted begrudgingly, grimacing at the sound of swords clashing violently. “Very well. Let’s get started.” 

Clearing his throat, Gale began to utter a series of phrases completely foreign to Astarion. He watched as the wizard began moving his hands in a wavelike pattern, forming a circle before them. Suddenly, a mist began to form from seemingly thin air, taking shape according to the boundaries Gale’s hands were creating. The mist grew more and more opaque until it appeared before them like a clouded mirror. 

As the fogginess of the ethereal magic began to clear, the “mirror” became a confusing blur of scenes whipping by, too fast for Astarion or Gale to really comprehend. There were flashes of Tav and Astarion, together and separate, but they disappeared too quickly to ascertain their context. It was as though the spell was shuffling through the entirety of Tav’s thoughts, assessing each one at breakneck speed. 

Finally, the spell slowed to a halt, stopping on one scene in particular. Astarion was struck speechless by what began playing out in the foggy portal before them. So distracted, he didn’t even notice Gale’s tight cough, or how the wizard suddenly became intensely interested in a copse of trees nearby, rather than the revelation the spell was revealing.

Not that the scene was especially profound, objectively speaking. In fact, to anyone else, it might be viewed as the least revelatory thing possible that the spell could have shown. Boring. Inconsequential, even. But to Astarion, it was almost earth shattering. 

He saw himself - he could see his face! - with Tav, lying tangled together in some immaculate four-poster bed. 

That was the first shock that coursed through him, nearly causing his knees to buckle. He was seeing himself for the first time in over 200 years. Or at least, he was seeing himself as Tav saw him. And… the person he saw… Well, he was gorgeous. White blonde locks, curled and tousled in a devil-may-care sort of way. A strong, patrician nose that suggested good breeding. High, sharp cheekbones. Full lips, upturned in a thoughtless grin. Red eyes bordered by long, sweeping lashes. Delicately pointed elven ears. Smooth alabaster skin, without blemish or spot. 

Astarion could scarcely believe his own eyes. 

The second shock to his system was the nature of their activities. He would have been less surprised had the vision shown them fucking. Him taking her roughly from behind perhaps. His name a cry of ecstasy from her lips as he pistoned in and out of her with a feral sort of determination. 

Fantasies of lust, of total domination, now those were things he was familiar with inspiring in the minds of the victims he had taken as lovers. It was what he strove for, in all honesty. Desire like that all but ensured he would capture his prey and live to serve another day for his master. 

But nothing of the sort was occurring between vision-Tav and himself. Instead, they were just… embracing? What in sweet hells was this?

She lay halfway on top of him. Her hair was mussed, perhaps from sleep or perhaps from previous lovemaking. One hand was drawing absentminded shapes across his chest, her lips trailing behind, leaving kisses in their wake. He watched as vision-Astarion chuckled softly, as his hands slipped beneath her sleepshirt to caress her waist, as he placed an innocent kiss on the top of Tav’s head. Eventually, she reached for his hand. They both watched their fingers intertwine, blissfully content.

It was the purest, unadulterated expression of affection that Astarion had ever seen. Something in his heart quaked at the sight of it. He wanted that moment. He envied, he hated, vision-Astarion for enjoying such apparent happiness.

So absorbed in the vision and its implications, Astarion failed to notice the soft padding of feet that indicated someone’s re-entry into the camp. 

“If the two of you are quite finished poking around in my head,” an angry voice suddenly spat from behind them, “I’d appreciate you preserving what little privacy I have left and shutting that damn spell off.”

Mortified, Astarion and Gale turned to see Tav, arms crossed and visibly seething with rage. Gale quickly dispelled the magic with a flick of his wrist. A blush was slowly but surely rising up Tav’s neck to reach her cheeks. Whether from rage or embarrassment, Astarion couldn’t be certain. 

“Tav, let us explain-” Astarion started.

“It was his idea-” Gale blurted at the same time, pointing at Astarion. 

Both paused, glaring at one another. But Tav would have none of their feeble attempts at backpedaling. 

“The explanation doesn’t matter. Whose idea it was doesn’t matter. The fact is that both of you violated the privacy of my mind, which I’ll remind you, has ALREADY been violated by having a bloody tadpole forced inside of it!” Tav shouted. At their words, the camp became enveloped in a heavy silence. Even the crickets ceased their chirping.

Astarion cringed inwardly, knowing the other party members could plainly hear this altercation and had likely stopped whatever it was that they had been doing to listen in. He noted the sounds of swords clanging together had ceased. He was certain Lae’zel and Shadowheart at least were aware of what was happening. Nosy bastards, all of them.

But what disturbed him even more was the realization that Tav’s eyes were welling with tears. She was too proud to acknowledge them or wipe them away. Such was her nature. But they were there nonetheless, and the knowledge that Astarion had brought her to the point of tears was enough to spur a rush of utter self-loathing inside him.

Without another word, Tav turned on her heel and marched stiffly out of camp, toward the direction of a nearby creek they’d identified as a water source earlier in the day.

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to perform that spell,” Gale said as she disappeared between the trees. He dragged his hands down his face. 

“How could we have been so doltish, forgetting that all of our privacies have already been violated with this tadpole business?”

Astarion didn’t have an answer to that. At least, not one the wizard could possibly understand. 

The thought hadn’t occurred to Astarion, he realized, because violations of privacy had been something so intrinsic to his being for over 200 years. He didn’t even recognize it as something abnormal. Like a fish unaware that the water surrounding it is, in fact, water. 

Violations of privacy were a part of life, at least for him. So much so that his request for Gale to perform that magic hadn’t even occurred to him as an overstepping of boundaries. To Astarion, it had simply been a matter of survival. He had needed to know another potentially manipulative person’s true intentions, and so he had found a means to uncover it and maintain the upper hand. 

Belatedly, he also realized that Gale’s hesitation to cast the spell had had nothing to do with being inconvenienced for the evening, but because the wizard had known that it was improper to do to another person. If he had misread that, Astarion wondered, then what other truly benevolent behaviors had he mistaken as pragmatic manipulation?

“I need to go find her,” Astarion murmured, clenching and unclenching his fists in an uncharacteristic fit of uncertainty. 

“Yes, you do,” Gale asserted. “We both owe her a sincere apology… if she’ll even accept it.”

“I’ll see if I can convince her to come back to camp,” Astarion replied, making to leave in the direction Tav had stormed off. 

“Wait,” Gale said, a hand on his shoulder. Astarion turned to meet his gaze. 

“Look, well, I’m obviously not an expert in healthy demonstrations of affection. But I do think it’s obvious from what you saw in that spell that Tav well and truly cares about you. In perhaps the purest way possible. Treat that carefully.”

Part of Astarion wanted to laugh aloud in utter hopelessness at the wizard’s advice. Someone cared for him? Truly and purely? No hidden games, no strings attached? Oh certainly, that wouldn’t be a problem for Astarion at all. Obviously, his 200-year existence as a master-manipulator-fetch-hound for a power-hungry vampire lord had perfectly prepared him to respond to this situation in a healthy manner. Obviously.

But all that was too much to reveal to someone he barely knew and too heavy to say aloud. Rather than giving some smarmy retort, Astarion opted instead to give a stiff nod and continue walking toward the edge of camp. He had no idea how he could make things right with Tav, but at the very least he could try. 

***

He found Tav sitting on a fallen tree near the edge of the creek bed. Her legs were drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she rested a cheek to her knees. In the waning twilight, she reminded Astarion of some misbegotten gargoyle perched on the roof of a temple, solitary and so very sad. 

Her ears twitched as she noted his arrival. Astarion wasn’t trying to be stealthy. On top of everything else, the last thing he needed to do was scare her. 

“Can I join you?” he asked softly, wincing to himself at the awkwardness of the question. 

The reality was that there was no way to broach this conversation without some stilted beginning, and he hated it. Navigating tricky conversations was normally something he excelled at. But as he was quickly finding, when it related to Tav, nothing in his past life had prepared him to respond to her well. 

“If you’d like,” Tav answered tonelessly. 

Knowing it was probably the best response he was going to get, Astarion swallowed thickly and moved to sit down on the log next to her. 

“I… wanted to… apologize for what you saw, back at camp,” he began.

“Apologize for doing it, or apologize for getting caught?” Tav asked as she turned her head to look at him, resting her other cheek on her knees. 

Astarion balked at the question. Her piercing gaze unnerved him. He hadn’t really thought that far. 

“Both, I suppose?” he answered honestly, although it sounded more like a question to Tav. She huffed a laugh.

“You know, part of me really wants to yell at you. Scream in your face. Tell you off proper,” she mused.

“So why don’t you?” Astarion asked, perplexed. 

Tav didn’t respond at first, just sat there studying him. As if by staring at him long enough, she could project the answer into his mind. 

Astarion didn’t interrupt her, much as he would have liked to. Part of him always bristled when people gazed at him for too long. It was unfair that they could study him, when he hadn’t been able to so much as glance at his reflection in over 200 years. 

Finally, Tav released a heavy sigh, her body curling further in on itself. She closed her eyes as she spoke.

“Because then I would be just like every other bastard in your life who’s mistreated you.”

Astarion flinched in surprise. Those had not been the sort of words he’d been expecting. The truth of them cut deeper than had she raged at him like she wanted to. It left him feeling even more vulnerable, and that in turn made him want to retreat into the comfort of viciousness.

“I don’t need you to pull any punches,” he scoffed, glaring at her. “Go ahead and say what you will.”

She straightened up at his tone, opening her eyes and returning his glare. 

“No. I don’t want to,” she said testily.

“I don’t need your pity,” he hissed. “It’s insulting.”

“Gods damn it all, Astarion!” Tav exclaimed suddenly, causing him to jump in surprise. She threw her hands up in defeat. “I’m not doing anything out of pity! I don’t want to rage at you, because I know that whatever I say right now, I won’t mean it come the morning!”

Astarion blinked. Once again he was left feeling flat footed by the turn of the conversation. Sensing his surprise, Tav continued on with her deluge of words.

“You hurt me tonight, and I’m angry at you - and at Gale, for that matter - for what you did. But you’ve shared enough of your… history… with me, that I realize your behavior is just… just a byproduct of centuries of abuse and manipulation you’ve endured! And I won’t be another abuser in your life. I won’t,” she asserted. 

Astarion continued staring at her, as if she were some otherworldly creature that had just wandered across his path. He watched as Tav inhaled a deep breath, releasing it shakily. She turned away from him to peer out into the forest, uncertain. She opened and closed her mouth several times before actually speaking. As if whatever she was about to say was more intimidating to her than anything else she’d said tonight. 

“I… care deeply for you, Astarion,” she said quietly. “You obviously saw that in the vision. I’m not playing any games. There’s no hidden motive. I’m not trying to manipulate you.”

She turned to look at him again before continuing, her breathing a bit unsteady. 

“I didn’t sleep with you that night of the tiefling party as some sort of maneuver to gain your trust. Although I understand if that was your motivation for doing so.” 

Astarion’s expression morphed into one of guilt. But Tav nodded soberly, as if she had already expected it, before continuing on. 

“It’s okay. I’m not angry. But I’m putting all my cards on the table now, so to speak. Actually, your decision tonight forced my hand, but I had been planning on telling you soon anyway. So, there you have it. The truth of my intentions. What you do with that information is up to you.”

She turned back to gaze out at their surroundings. Like she was giving him the opportunity to bolt away without her watching him. As if she expected him to flee from her confession. 

But Astarion didn’t flee. He remained seated, staring at her in complete wonderment. 

“Why?” he asked quietly.

She looked back at him again, confusion evident on her face. 

“Why what?”

“Why do you care for me? You’re so… well-adjusted. And I’m well… this,” he finished lamely, placing a hand on his chest. 

Tav pursed her lips. “It would be a mistake to misconstrue my empathy for you as me being well-adjusted. Everyone has their own demons, Astarion,” she murmured. “Mine just look different from yours.”

Astarion mulled her words over in his mind, considering them. He leaned forward to brace his forearms on his knees, his head drooping slightly. 

“I…,” he started, unsure. “That vision… what it implied… You deserve something real, Tav. You’re incredible… truly.” 

Tav closed her eyes, bracing for the fallout. Even though she would accept his decision, whatever it was, she didn’t think she could bear to watch him deny her. It would hurt too much. 

“Look. When we met, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan,” he blurted all at once. Rising swiftly to his feet, Tav watched as he began to pace before her, near to bursting with frenetic energy. 

“Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me,” he counted off, laughing half-heartedly. “It was… easy - instinctive. Habits from two hundred years of charming people kicked in. All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do… was not fall for you… which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart,” he finished, stopping to stand before her. 

She held his gaze, speechless. 

“I want you,” he whispered fervently. “I want what was in that vision… I want us to be something real.”

Never in a million years had she thought he would respond to her like this. She opened her mouth to speak, but Astarion cut her off with another sudden exclamation. 

“I just don’t know what real is,” he confessed, his tone a touch hysterical. Tav knew from his body language that being this transparent was completely out of Astarion’s comfort zone. 

“Being… close to someone - any kind of intimacy - was something I performed to lure people back. For him. Even though I know things between us are different, being with someone still feels… tainted. Still brings up those feelings of disgust, and loathing. I… I don’t know how else to be with someone. No matter how much I’d like to,” he finished, staring at her with beseeching eyes, willing her to understand.

Tav rose to her feet, coming to stand before him. 

“I don’t want you for your body,” she whispered. “Or to perform any acts of intimacy. We can be together, without sleeping together, for as long as you need.”

“Really,” he asked softly, his voice pitched low, rough with emotion.

“Really,” Tav asserted, giving him a small smile. “Would it be all right if…” she paused, conflicted. He eyed her curiously.

“Could I hug you?” she whispered.

The fact that she asked before doing so caused a well of emotion to spring up inside him. Eyes watering, Astarion nodded. 

Slowly, Tav moved forward to wrap her arms around his waist. Her head nestled into the crook of his neck and shoulder. A perfect fit. He felt her exhale a deep sigh.

Tav hugging him was a sensation unlike any he had ever felt. At least, any he could remember feeling. The act of being touched, embraced, without any desire for something more. She just wanted to hold him, feel him close to her. It was incomprehensible to him, but utterly enjoyable, at the same time. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Astarion raised his arms to return Tav’s embrace. Drawing her even closer, he bowed his head to rest his cheek against her hair. It was soft, like the finest silk. He closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply, appreciating her sweet, floral scent.   

She made to pull away after a moment, not wishing to overwhelm him. But Astarion gripped her more firmly, a silent urge for them to stay that way a little longer. 

“This… this is nice,” he whispered. 

He both felt and heard Tav hum contentedly in response. 

It wasn’t identical to the vision from Tav’s mind that he had seen, but Astarion reveled in their embrace nonetheless. It felt like the beginning of something new. And for the first time in his very, very long life, Astarion felt excited at the prospects of what would come next. 

[pluralasking]

#One-Hundred

[pt: #one-hundred]

In order to celebrate 100 days of posting, here are 100 questions for you to answer! You can either answer them all at once, or let others send in the numbers they are most curious about!

Some of them are general questions, others are just really silly and should not be taken too serious. I put a lot of effort into coming up with all of these, so I truely hope you have fun with this!

For simplicity sake, all questions will use the words "System" and "Members".

1. What is your System name and / or the name you collectively go by?

2. Which word do you prefer to use for your System? (example: System, Collective, Constellation, ...)

3. What are your Systems origins, if you choose to label them?

4. Do you have any Subsystems?

5. Do you have any Sidesystems?

6. What is your opinion on you& / your& language and similar types?

7. What methodes do you use to keep track of your System and it's Members?

8. What is your Systems ways of communication?

9. Is communication hard or easy for you (and why is it the way it is)?

10. Do you view yourselves as parts of one person or as multiple people in one body?

11. Who are you out to as plural?

12. What languages do you collectively / one of you speak?

13. What is something you can't seem to collectively agree on?

14. If you have a collective Identity (such as Gender or Orientation), what is it?

15. Do you collectively identify as queer / LGBTQIA+?

16. Do you collectively identify as Otherkin, Alterhuman or Nonhuman?

17. Do you have a collective rentry / carrd / something along those lines? (feel free to share!)

18. What does switching feel like for you?

19. Are you Monoconscious, Polyconscious or something else?

20. What does fronting feel like for you?

21. How many System members do you have?

22. Which word / words do you prefer to use for members of your System?

23. Which age group seems to be the most common in your System?

24. Which gender seems to be the most common in your System?

25. Are there any talents / hobbies you picked up because of a Member?

26. Do you have any in-system relationships?

27. Do you label roles within your System (and if yes, which ones?)

28. Are most of your Members introjected, brainmade or something else?

29. Do you use names, emojis or something similar to sign off messages (and if yes, which ones and why?)

30. Do any of your System members use Xenogenders?

31. How do Members pick face claims?

32. Do you have any Introjects of popular sources?

33. Do you have any Introjects of unpopular sources?

34. Do you have nonhuman Members?

35. Do any of you use Typing Quirks?

36. Do all of you front, or only a selected amount?

37. Are there any Members who can't or prefer to not speak?

38. Are most of you short or tall in height?

39. Is there a Member that is collectively loved by all in the System?

40. Do any of you struggle with being front-stuck a lot of the time?

41. Do you have a Headspace (if not, is there a reason)?

42. What does your Headspace look like?

43. How do Members look like in Headspace? (example: Cartoony, Foggy, Realistic, ...)

44. Is there a reason why the Headspace looks the way it looks?

45. Is it easy for you to enter Headspace?

46. Do you remember what happened in Headspace when you switch into front?

47. Does time in Headspace pass (and if yes, is it at the same speed as in real life)?

48. What is your favourite place in Headspace?

49. Are there "NPCs" within your Headspace?

50. Are there any interesting fun facts about your Headspace?

51. Are there any "System Stereotypes" you fit into?

52. Who of you would be considered the "evil alter"? (in a lighthearted, joking manner)

53. What is your favourite inside-joke with a Member?

54. What is your favourite Plural meme?

55. Is there any character that you headcanon as plural?

56. Is there any show or movie that you believe is a good plural representation, despite that not being its intention?

57. Is there any song that you believe decribes your plural experience?

58. What about an artwork that describes your plural experience?

59. Which Member of your System do you believe to be the prettiest of them all?

60. Do you collectively have a lucky number?

61. When did you first discover your System?

62. How many Members did you know about during your Syscovery?

63. Was accepting your Plurality a challenge for you?

64. How did you learn about Plurality?

65. Where there any signs of your Plurality, if you look back at your past?

66. Do you think your Syscovery changed a lot in your life?

67. If you're out to others as plural, have they ever told you later on that they already thought about it before you realised?

68. What was the biggest struggle during your Syscovery?

69. Was there any big event that led to your Syscovery?

70. What is something you want questioning plurals to know?

71. Are you Neurodivergent (and if yes, how?)

72. Do you have any physical disability?

73. Do you have a dissociative disorder?

74. Do you have any other disorder?

75. Do symptom vary in intensity depending on the fronter?

76. Do you think your disability / disorder has an influence on your plurality?

77. Do you have amnesia of any kind?

78. Are there Members who deal better with symptoms than others?

79. Do your disorders / disabilities influence communication or switching within your System in any way?

80. Does being plural help with your disorders in any way? (example: another Member switching in to take care of the body during difficult times, ...)

81. Which is your favourite plural flag?

82. If you have one, which is your favourite plurality related tumblr blog?

83. What is a fun fact about your System?

84. What is a flavour of ice cream that describes you collectively?

85. Which pride flag is the prettiest, in your collective opinion?

86. If you collectively had to choose between being a sweet or a sour candy, which do you pick?

87. Your body always morphs into what the current fronter(s) look like, would you want this power or not?

88. Is there a Hatsune Miku in your System?

89. Who has been in your System the longest (if you can remember)?

90. If you collectively had to choose, would you rather only eat sweet foods or only eat savoury foods for the rest of your life?

91. If you collectively had to choose, would you pick to become a vampire or a werewolf?

92. Your body is transfered into one of your Members sources, which do you pick and why?

93. If all of you turned into animals right this second, which animals would we find in your System?

94. What would a Minecraft server with all of your Members look like? (example: chaotic, peaceful, laggy, ...)

95. If you could choose between only living in Headspace or only living in Meatspace (real life), which would you choose?

96. What topic would you collectively make a youtube channel about? (it can't be plurality!)

97. Which superpower would your body obtain, if you had to collectively decide on one?

98. Who would pick the coolest tattoo for the System and who would pick the worst?

99. If you only were allowed to eat one food for the rest of your life, but you would have to decide on the food collectively, what would it be and what would the decision making look like?

100. What is the most fun about doing polls and answering questions, in your opinion?

[ididdedurmom]

More evil head cannons

I have silly ideas about the gang after the event of the story, everyone lives, except Bob

PONY:

Has a thousand yard stare when he zones out

Has the loudest, most disgusting, mucus filled cough ever

Actually really good at drawing

Has drawn every member of the gang at least twice

Loves physical touch, he leans on his friends when their sitting next to him.

Actually screams during horror movies, like loud genuine screams

Loves play fighting with Darry, like full on wrestling

Steve taught him how to drive

He either walks like a ghost or stomps, there is no in between

He can play one song on the guitar, and that’s it

His legs are super strong, so his kicks hurt really bad

He would be better at track, but his smoking habits hold him back

He feels jealous of Soda and Darry because they had more time with their parents

He and Darry have matching reading glasses

SODA:

He says “I’m just a girl” anytime he gets in trouble

He has used his pretty privilege to get out of being arrested multiple times

Despite how handsome he knows he is, he still feels super insecure about his looks

He steals from the DX station constantly

He and Steve spend hours gossiping about their customers once both of their shifts are over

A dog bit him when he was a kid, now he’s deathly afraid of them

He loves physical affection, hugging him is the best way to cheer him up

Absolute candy addict

Candy is the #1 item he steals from the DX

He broke his dominant hand once, and now his handwriting is permanently ruined

He reads insanely slow and monotone when he reads out loud

He either sleeps like a rock, or wakes up from the slightest sound, there is no in between

He lives in his flannel, that thing hasn’t been washed in literal years

He suffers from middle child syndrome, he knows his brothers love him, but they don’t pay enough attention to him

DARRY:

He hates his jobs, he knows he has to go but he can’t stand them

All of his coworkers are old and they treat him like a child (which he’s kind of okay with in a way)

He loves watching cartoons but he feels like he’d be wasting his time

He sneezes like a dad

He wakes up at 4 am and works out immediately

Loves compliments and words of affection

Doing favors is his love language

He has the whitest legs ever, he’s all tan on the top and snow white on the bottom

His tan ends where his pants start

Small bits of his hair are grey, he doesn’t know

He has a fear of abandonment

He is insanely flexible for a man of his size, like he can touch the floor standing up with ease

He hit a dog with his car once and cried for 2 hours straight

He loves cuddling on the couch with his brothers, it helps him relax

He despises Curly Shepard, he’s civil with Tim, but he HATES Curly

When he comes home from his ski trips with his old friends, he actually looks his age

A woman once assumed he was Pony’s father, and it made him die inside a little

He can’t stand Mother and Fathers Day

He was mad at Steve when he found out he taught Pony how to drive

TWO-BIT:

He and Dally bond by harassing women

He has a box full of things he’s stolen

His slight alcoholism stems from his father

He let’s his sister paint his nails, and he shows them off proudly

He gets his nails painted before rumbles

He watches soap operas with his mother every night

He can play the trumpet

He has never purchased a pack of cigarettes, only stolen

He listens to metal

When he passes Johnny’s house, he has to actively stop himself from walking in and beating Johnny’s parents half to death, especially his father

Its not that he doesn’t want a job, I mean he doesn’t, it’s that he thinks he’d only mess up whenever they had him do

He constantly forgets to brush his teeth

Pop and beer are the only things he drinks, he doesn’t touch water

He religiously wears Mickey Mouse merch, you will never catch him in a plain shirt

Baby Pony and him got along really well, he was kinda like Pony’s goofy cousin

Two-Bit and Darry have been friends since they were little kids

Two has no plans for his future, and it weighs on him

He broke both of his elbows once

His teachers have kinda given up on him, they just treat him like a bother instead of a student

STEVE:

He messes up Pony’s hair every chance he gets

He uses the most hair grease out of everyone

He has had the same comb for 3 years

He constantly smells like oil

The underside of his nails are always black, no matter how much he washes his hands

He and Soda have matching scars from a shared failed attempt to climb a barb wired fence

He is terrified of the police

He and Soda make your mom jokes at each other, despite neither of them having mothers

His voice is scarily deep when he wakes up

He and Two-Bit have an inside joke no one in the gang understands

He, Soda, and Two-Bit all have matching stick and poke tattoos

He hates his father, and by extension the fathers of Johnny and Two-Bit

He and Dally don’t hang out much, but when they do they are absolute menaces

Dally and him steal cars and hub caps together

He is genuinely upset by the size of his nose

JOHNNY:

He’s dyslexic

His handwriting is atrocious

His best subject is math

He and the gang all picked out stickers to put on his crutches

He loves sleeping around his friends

His hands are rough

He can’t stand the smell of beer, unless it’s one of the gang

He and Curly hate each other for literally no reason

Pony has slowly been teaching him to read better

No matter how much grease he puts in his hair, it won’t stay back

He hates going out in public because people always look at him funny

He hates looking at his burn scars

He, Dally, and Ponyboy watch sunsets together

He either sleeps at the Cutis’s house, Two-Bit’s house, Steve’s (very rarely), or Dallas’s place.

He’s not allowed to sleep in the lot anymore

He has tons of freckles, you just can’t see them against his skin

He loves sleeping outside when he wants to

He never wants children, he’s to scared he’ll become his father

His pain tolerance is so high that sometimes he won’t even notice when he gets injured

He likes how defensive Dallas is of him, makes him feel confident

He smokes marijuana with Dally sometimes, he’s super anxious when they do though because he doesn’t want to get arrested

DALLY:

He will not talk about his feelings

The cops forced him to go to therapy, it didn’t fix anything

He is amazing at lying

The police know him by name

He hasn’t told the gang much about the past other than where he came from and that he doesn’t talk to his folks

Darry nicknamed him “Rat”

He actually feels bad when Darry yells at him

He gets sun burns very quickly

He has his own personal stench

He doesn’t want Johnny to end up like him

He cried for 3 hours straight when he found out Johnny was still alive, it is his most embarrassing moment

He chugs drinks insanely fast

He can’t read very well

He needs glasses but he thinks he’d look like a wimp if he had any

Even though he knows he could have an asthma attack from coughing to hard, he still doesn’t carry his inhaler

He was happy when he thought he was going to die

Then he woke up and had an epiphany about life, it didn’t do to much, but now he knows death isn’t the only option

He proudly shows off the burn marks on his arm

He loves pushing Johnny around in his wheelchair

He listens to outlaw music and Frank Sinatra

He loves horror movies

He toned down his bad behavior once he got out of the hospital, he’s still a dick though

That’s it or whatever. I hope you like them, I’m sorry if some of them don’t make sense. I’m just so silly. I apologize for my horrible grammar lol. Feel free to tell me some of your head cannons!! :D

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

Please Please Please - Rafe Cameron Short Story (Part

2 of 6)

+18 Minor DNI

Older MobDealer!Rafe x Female Reader

⭐ republished ⭐

+18 Minor DNI

Part 1

3333 words

Warnings contain spoilers: blood, domestic assault, cheating, swearing, name-calling, gaslighting, threats, and mentions of killing partner, kissing, mentions of female masturbation, ownership (you’re mine), general violence.

📖 Loosely based on the song and music video Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter 💕

✨Rafe clears his throat, changing slightly in his seat, the smoothness of his approach shifting as you adjust your glasses. He looks at you, trying his best to control his anger and questioning for your benefit, but he just can’t. “Did uh… Did you have those last night?” He asks weakly, well aware of the answer. His eyes narrow in concern, his softness quickly stripped. Your jaw tightens, lashes fluttering to hold back the tears that hadn’t disappeared. You shake your head ‘no’.✨

Sexual content in pink if you want to avoid that

Readers POV:

“Tony-”

Lights out.

That’s all I remember. The first blow of his fist to my cheek was enough to knock me out cold.

Your eyes flutter open, a burning ache claiming you immediately as you match your stare in the rearview mirror. Pain radiates from your nose. Your lip a mess with two rivers of thick blood lined to your chin. The car is empty, Tony nowhere to be found, leaving you alone in his dark garage.

Reaching over, you grab the door handle, crying out in pain, pulling your hand to your ribs. You slam your eyes shut, fear setting in as you get a taste of just how evil Tony can be. Lucky for you, he had the decency to knock you out before delivering the rest of his beating, sparing you the initial pain. I could leave. I could leave tonight, steal his car, and drive away.

But then, how will I meet him?

You shut your eyes, replaying the moment you locked eyes with him. Blue… Beautifully blue - thatcerulean stare captured yours, and for a few moments, you felt free. What was he booked for? Why was he sent to jail in the first place?

Your heart races, teeth gritted as you step out of the car, trying to push through the pain. You walk down a long line of vintage and luxury cars; the Maybach was nothing… This asshole has cars to spare.

An open spot… Vlad. Is Tony gone? You look out a small window on the garage door, the sunrise, a wash of pink and oranges, bleeds through the sky. I was in jail for 8 hours before he got me… He always takes an early flight. Hopefully, he left already. You step carefully, trying your best not to make a sound. Tony fights dirty; there’s no way you could let your guard down until you know for sure. He could be waiting for me inside.

Your heels click against the marble floor, head on a swivel as you watch for him. It’s eerie… The kitchen was a mess when you left, dirtied from your anniversary dinner, now spotless. The empty wine bottle on the counter is exchanged for a large vase of lilies and red roses.

There’s no way these are for me.

Tears roll down your cheeks, burning as they catch the gash in your cheek, making you hiss in pain, the movement reopening the wounds on your lip, pooling fresh blood in your mouth. Your scream fills the house, a piercing cry resonating through the wings. It’s not enough. You grab the vase, sobbing as you hurl it to the floor, watching the glass shatter into a million pieces.

Water and roses spread along the marble floor as you walk away, crushing the glass under your Louis Vuitton heels. You step toward the bedroom, kicking off your shoes, tearing down the zipper, letting the satin material fall to the floor. Maybe it was cheating, perhaps it was the beating, or was it the gaslighting bullshit? Whatever the hell it was, you were seconds away from saying fuck it entirely.

Water falls from the shower head, sending steam swirling all around. The gasps and hiccups of your tears get swallowed up in the noise of the shower as you draw back the glass, stepping inside. You let out a pathetic whimper as the water pelts your skin, every nerve on fire, hot water running through your wounds. It flows down your body, circling the drain in a watercolor mess of crimson, turning pink, then clear as the blood starts to wash away. The pain dissipates, numbness taking its place.

Maybe I want to be alone. Why am I even thinking about anyone else? What if he doesn’t want me? What if he has someone else? What if he’s treating them just like Tony treats me? You grab the handle, turning off the water. Chills spread across your body as you climb out of the tub, stepping onto the cool floor before returning to the bedroom.

Your stomach sinks as you hear your phone trill. Tony… I don’t even want to listen to his voice. I don’t want to hear what he has to say. I know what I saw. I can feel what he did to me. I need more time to think about my next steps. I don’t need him getting in my way or my head. You walk over to the bed, pulling your phone out of your purse. Kildare County Prison. What now? What could they possibly want? Clicking the button, you accept the call, lifting it to your ear.

“Hello?”

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳

“I’m here for visitation hours,” you announce softly.

The officer nods, standing up from his desk, walking around to the massive metal door. The alarm buzzes, hardware clanking as he opens the entry, letting you back into jail. You wander into the room, empty and clinical, with five seats and five small windows vacant on the other side. You take a chair, feeling your anxiety rise. Even though you were a mess of makeup and tears last night, your beautiful dress hanging torn on your frame, at least you weren’t beaten.

You tighten the scarf around your head, adjusting your eyeglasses to cover your bruises. Not even a pound of makeup could mask this mess. Tony did a number on you; no amount of foundation could hide that. You hear a muffled buzz from the other side of the glass. The door opens; prisoners walk out, tired and weary. Your heart skips, warming instantly as you meet the same baby blues from the night before, a breath of fresh air hitting you as you see his smile.

He’s changed since his disheveled shirt, exchanged for a uniform provided by the state. The man somehow makes it look good, his white t-shirt pulled taut across his broad chest. His hair is brushed back, not sweaty and tousled like before, giving you the perfect view of his gorgeous face. “Hi,” he mouths before sitting down, grabbing the phone off the hook. You follow suit, doing the same. The soft breathing you heard over the receiver the evening prior comes through a little louder, matching the movements of his chest.

You can feel your heart beating faster, just as excited as you were when he made his request. ‘Come to the prison tomorrow at 11 for visitor hours. I want to meet you’. You smile brightly, dampening your joy moments later as you remember just where you are. This is not a coffee shop. This is not some cute first date at the Island Club. This is prison… Then you’re hit with another blow. What if Tony found out? What if he has eyes inside? You reach for a breath, feeling panic set in, so excited at the thought of meeting him in person that you didn’t even think about the very real risk. Heat burns behind your eyes, tears glossing your vision. A lump forms in your throat, even the simple act of breathing, harder than before.

“Are you okay, princess,” he asks gently. You match his gaze, making the mistake of looking at him over the rim of your sunglasses as tears pool in your eyes.

“I’m okay,” you answer shakily.

“Are you - Fuck… Are you sure?” He asks as he goes to stand, quickly remembering the glass that separates the two of you when he tries to get a better look.

“Positive.”

“I don’t know-”

“Positive,” you stop him. He drops his head and nods, not wanting to upset you, doing his best to push past it. His brows pinch together, not believing the lies you’re selling him. “Y/n. Yeah? I hope it’s okay that I asked you here…”

“Mhmm…” You smile narrowly. “I was hoping I’d get to meet you.”

“Is that so?” He asks in a low tone, sending butterflies swirling in your stomach.

“Yeah…” You give him a small nod, stifling your grin again. “How did you know my number?”

He takes a deep breath, relaxing in his chair, crossing one arm over his chest, tilting his head slightly to let his cheek press into the phone. “Well, I paid $500 for a name and $2,000 for your number, another 10k so you and I could talk freely. Well, as long as it’s legal, of course.”

“Seriously?” You ask. “That’s too much…”

“Nah. It’s not. Drop the bucket… I can tell you are worth far, far more than that, doll. Priceless.” You giggle and smile, your happiness making the corners of his lips pull even wider. The most perfect smile I’ve ever seen. “That laugh, princess,” he hums, his voice like honey, as he lives in each word. “I could listen to that all day if you’d let me.”

Princess… The same pet name used by Tony in his letter, so demeaning after what he did to me, was reclaimed by this man instantly. Again, I’m lost in the moment with him, nestled in the sanctuary of my mind. What I wouldn’t do to sit next to him; smell his cologne, feel his knee brush softly against mine as he smiles down at me. I could feel the warmth of the words leaving his lips, not just hear them through the phone.

“You’re lovely,” you coo bashfully, feeling heat creep across your bruised cheeks.

Rafe clears his throat, changing slightly in his seat, the smoothness of his approach shifting as you adjust your glasses. He looks at you, trying his best to control his anger and questioning for your benefit, but he just can’t. “Did uh… Did you have those last night?” He asks weakly, well aware of the answer. His eyes narrow in concern, his softness quickly stripped. Your jaw tightens, lashes fluttering to hold back the tears that hadn’t disappeared. You shake your head ‘no’. The words that left your mouth struck him like a knife to the heart; a few shallow breaths in his broad chest was all he could muster.

“I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be fine?” He asks as his voice cracks with anger and emotion. “You shouldn’t have to worry about that - ‘You’ll be fine’,” he huffs. “You need to know, I know what you’re dealin’ with, and you’re far from it.” Your nostrils flare, muscles tense as you try to keep your tears from spilling over. “When I get out of here. I’m gonna take care of that for you. And, if I’m lucky, I’d like to take care of you too,” he pledges. You can tell he means every word.

“You - You don’t even know me. I don’t even know your name-”

“Rafe,” he cuts you short, the corners of his lips quivering in a slight smile he’s putting on just to ease your worry. The sheer thought of what happened to you the night prior evidently shocking him to his core. “Cameron,” he rasps out his last name, clearing his throat as he tries to gain his composure.

“It’s nice to meet you, Rafe Cameron.” His name leaves your lips, making you smile again.

“I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, but can I see your eyes?” He asks sweetly. You nod, pulling the glasses off your face, before meeting his watch. “There she is,” he whispers. “You’re stunning. You know?”

“Thank you.”

“No, sweetheart. Thank you. And, it’s nice to meet you too.” You’re put at ease in his presence. Rafe seems to be the type of man who is rough for everyone and soft for you. The kind to commit heinous crimes, but don’t you dare fuck with what’s mine. He’d never do this to me… “So, we have about 10 minutes. It’s not enough time. I’m going to call you. Yeah?”

“Of course,” you answer quickly, scooting a little closer toward the glass, making him bite his lip at your excitement.

“I’m getting out of here in a week. Can you come and see me tomorrow?” He asks hopefully.

“Of course, Rafe.”

“N’he comes home in seven days-“ Rafe starts, catching you off guard as he spouts details you didn’t even know. Your confusion must be painted all over your face because he quickly assures you. “I know people. I know he’s in Monterrey; I know he’s into some pretty serious shit. So am I.”

“You are?” You ask shakily, bottom lip quivering with adrenaline. Tony never told you anything; everything was a mystery with him, dismissed and cloaked in a vain compliment to get you off his back. ‘You’re too pretty to worry about this, baby. Shh… all you gotta do is look pretty and spend Daddy’s money’. This is the most truth I’ve gotten about his dealings than I have in our entire relationship.

“I don’t like keepin’ secrets. I have a feelin’ you’re used to that shit. Not with me. Okay?”

“Okay…” you nod dutifully, nervously tapping your nails on the cool metal counter. “Well, in that case, why are you here?”

Rafe sucks his teeth and clears his throat, looking side to side, checking on the inmates sharing space with him. “Murder. Allegedly.” The blood drains from your face, your eyes widen like saucers. Murder? “I didn’t do it - I didn’t shoot that guy. I don’t even know him. I never met him a day in my life, but I gotta whole lotta enemies.”

“I suppose,” you whisper shakily.

“It wasn’t me…” There’s more that he wants to say. It’s right on the tip of his tongue. ‘It wasn’t me… this time.’ A change of scenery, and he’d probably tell you everything. “You gotta believe me. I promise-”

“I do,” you stop him, making his eyebrows lift slightly in surprise. “I believe you, Rafe.”

He looks back at you and smiles. “Good girl.” Your heart bangs in your chest, pulse thumping in your ears. “M’sorry our first conversation’s so hard. I didn’t want it to be like this… I wanna get this out of the way and put it to bed, ‘course I gotta handle business, but I’ll do the dirty work. You don’t need any more stress. After today, I don’t wanna speak about him anymore. Just you. You are the only thing I wanna talk about, princess,” he smiles, tapping gently on the glass. You rest your hand on it. Rafe does the same, pressing his large palm to match.

The thought of a physical connection makes your head spin, the pair of you looking at each other starry-eyed. “Can I count on you to pick me up when I get out?” He asks, anxiously like you’d say anything but ‘yes.’ You nod, unsure of the timeline or how you could escape when Tony returns. “His flight doesn’t get in until 4:30. N’Tony’s got a meetin’ with a new buyer-” Rafe gives you a little nod - he’s the buyer.

“Rafe-”

He shakes his head ‘no’, stopping you before you can start. “I’m not scared of him, baby. We need to come to an understanding, him and I. He needs to understand that his actions have consequences. He needs to understand you’re mine.”

His?

I’m Rafe’s.

You stare at him like a dear in the headlights yet again, stunned silent by his words. “Do you want that, princess?” He asks as he looks back at you.

“I do.”

Rafe shakes his head and smiles, slightly confused like he can’t believe what you’re saying. “I gotta week to make a plan. I have to get to him. You think you could help me with that?” Your stomach turns as you replay Rafe’s first lie. His mouth said ‘conversation’ but his eyes said ‘execution’. A conversation is not just a conversation. I’m not stupid. “You gotta act normal when you’re around him, princess. Business as usual. Do you think you can do that f’me?” You nod in agreement. “You’re going to do so good, baby. You’re brave. All right? You’re here. Aren’t you? You’re not afraid to take a risk. I mean, you’ve been here, after all,” he adds as he swirls his finger, gesturing to his confinement. “What did a sweet thing like you do to end up in here anyway?” He questions, cocking his head slightly as he fights back a smirk.

“I uhh…” You giggle breathily, still uneasy about what you can and can’t share, attempting to feed Rafe just enough to answer his question, not enough to incriminate yourself any further. “I trashed his truck.”

”The Maybach?” Rafe asks with a lifted brow; the smirk pulling wider as he tilts his body into the glass, his strong forearms resting on the countertop. You give him a nod ‘yes’. “That’s a two hundred thousand dollar ride, sunshine. Uhh, with what?” He asks as he scratches at his 5’o’clock shadow, a fire burning in his eyes, taking pleasure in your little stunt.

“A bat.”

“A bat. Huh? Well, fuck doll, You’ll be just fine.”

Your shoulders fall as your body relaxes a little more. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I will be alright. Maybe I can pull this off. “Okay,” you answer, starting to believe the words he’s saying yourself.

“After I hash out everything with Tony, I’m gonna take you out for a drink, and we’ll celebrate all night.”

You smile bashfully, his proposal clouding your brain; thoughts drifting away as he baits you with his proposition. He’s not saying a lot, but saying so much at the same time. ‘All night’… Drinks, celebration; sex… Freedom? Maybe, if everything goes his way, which I have a feeling it usually does.

“Words, angel,” Rafe hums, pulling you out of your haze.

You smile back at him, hungry-eyed, finding yourself impatient for the time to come already. “All night…”

Rafe licks his lips, savoring what little he can see of you. You can only imagine what he’s thinking, looks alone telling you that he’s picture a million and one ways he can make you scream his name. “Beautiful.”

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳

It had been a week… A week of getting to know him. A week of Rafe Cameron. Praise. Promises. The possibility of what a life could look like with him. Of course, there’s a chance it could all go to shit. What would I do then? What would I do if Tony did something to Rafe?

I guess Tony’s something I’ll have to take care of if that time comes. But what if he takes my life? I guess either way I’ll be free.

Your week went like clockwork: visitation at nine, a phone call every night at four. Rafe’s voice filled your ears, saving you from your dark thoughts, filling you with light. As he promised, there was no talk of Tony; the two of you more focused on getting acquainted with each other to worry about much more.

When 4 pm struck you pulled out your phone, waiting impatiently for Rafe’s call. It rang a moment later, making you scramble for the accept button. The rug was pulled out from underneath you after your sweet ‘hey, baby,’ and Tony’s ‘hello, darling’. His voice on the other end of the line was gut-wrenching leaving you to maintain that same bliss reserved for Rafe.

It taught you one thing, though… you were a much better liar than you imagined, acting like the steadfast, naive girlfriend you’ve played so many times before when you fed into the bullshit. ‘Are you having fun in Mexico, baby? Did you get to go to the beach, handsome? I can’t wait for you to come home, daddy. I miss you.’ And, he ate it all up, more than usual even. The guilt of his little “lesson” still weighing heavily on his icy heart, apparent in every whispered ‘I love you’ and “You know you’re my girl. Right?’

Wrong.

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳

You lean slightly outside your Magnum XE, waiting for Rafe. Catching the mirror, you check your makeup; almost all of the harm caused by Tony is covered up or faded away. You’re restless, drumming your hands on the leather steering wheel while waiting for him. You leave the car, walking around the front, adjusting your pink fur coat before sitting pretty on the hood. I wanna look good for him.

Last night was just a taste. You bite your lip, thinking about your phone conversation with Rafe. It was the first exchange that was more than just sweet and assuring, turning risky fast. It started with Rafe asking what you were wearing, ending with you, a panting mess in his ear as he talked you through it all. You soaked your fingers just like he asked as he set the pace, telling you what to do and when, praising you for doing such an good job for him. He promised he’d take care of you… And he did.

Fuck, I can’t wait to thank him myself.

You watch the door swing open, that very same door you walked out of just days before, but unlike you, Rafe is all smiles. That smile… He slings his bag over his shoulder, shooting you a wink that has you giggling like a schoolgirl.

Your heart patters as he steps closer, moving with a purpose. He takes you into his arms, stealing your breath as his lips lock with yours in a deep, passionate kiss. Rafe’s hand wraps around the back of your neck, the other bound around your waist, needing you closer. You live in the moment, memorizing the shape of his body in yours. The smell of his cologne lingers lightly on the shirt he had on when he stumbled into his cell that night, the scent of it somehow already so familiar. You grab onto his button-down, tugging him in, causing him to smile against your lips.

“Hi, princess.”

Part 3

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[queerfables]

I'm still working out what the significance of this is, but I'm now surer than ever:

In season 2, Aziraphale's bookshop is the Garden of Eden.

What first tipped me off was the end of 2x01, when Gabriel asks about Outside, and Crowley urgently warns him that he needs to stay inside the bookshop. It reverberated against the themes of season 1, where choosing freedom over safety is symbolised by Leaving the Garden. Supporting this connection, one of the songs on the season 2 soundtrack is called Leaving the Bookshop; it plays in 2x06 when Crowley escorts Nina and Maggie outside.

There's an even clearer indicator of the symbolism, though, and I am so fascinated by the implications. When Gabriel first arrives at the bookshop in a state of undress, one of the things he says to Aziraphale is:

"Who told you I was naked?"

It's a funny line but it's also surprisingly biblically significant. In Genesis, Adam and Eve's loss of innocence after eating the fruit of knowledge is shown by their realisation they are naked. In this scene, Gabriel is like them before this transgression, innocent and unconscious of his own nakedness.

But it's even more on the nose than that, because in Genesis, when God appears to Adam after he eats the fruit, Adam hides, and then admits he's afraid because he's naked. And I quote directly, Genesis 3:11 (New International Version):

And [God] said, “Who told you that you were naked? Have you eaten from the tree that I commanded you not to eat from?”

I'm sure this reference is intended. It's too similar to be a coincidence. So Gabriel's memory loss is comparable to the innocence that preceded the Fall of Man, and that's fascinating in its own right. This also makes the bookshop, where he is protected so long as he stays inside its walls, a clear parallel to Eden.

In relation to Gabriel, I think Beelzebub is Eve, offering Adam the knowledge of good and evil in the form of a fly holding his hidden memories. An argument could be made that they are the serpent to his Eve, but I think the partnered dynamic makes this a more fitting interpretation.

I'm still thinking on the roles that Crowley and Aziraphale play in this analogy. I keep coming back to Gabriel's line, "I don't go outside, and now I have two friends." If this is Eden, who are his friends? Are Crowley and Aziraphale reprising their roles as the serpent and the guardian? Are they God and Satan playing games with their own little universe, perhaps? Or are they Adam and Eve?

Obviously, if the bookshop is Eden, this has major implications for Crowley and Aziraphale too in the context of their break up. With this framing, Crowley telling Aziraphale, "You can't leave this bookshop" becomes a fascinating twist on his traditional role. He's asking Aziraphale to stay with him in blissful ignorance, rather than confront the truth of their world. I'm not arguing that this is the only level at which this line should be read, but it's one that's worth considering.

You may also notice that in light of this biblical reference, "Who told you I was naked" becomes the first time amnesiac Gabriel echoes the words of God. I'm really not sure what these echoes mean, but they sure do intrigue me.

[shaampoo]

OMG!?!??! I WANT TO TALK ABOUT THIS SONG (and AU), RIGHT NOW!!!

(By Lydia the bard

TINKERBELL VILLAIN SONG - Fall Little Wendy Bird Fall | Song by Lydia the Bard and Tony | Animatic

The title^)

First of all the cover art is AMAZING, Tink is SO pretty, the sparkle and lines on the wings, her grin, HER HAIR, HER EARS, HER DRESS,

Also, "Fall Little Wendy Bird Fall" is a great title

Now the video itself and its lyrics, i really REALLY want to just compliment every single frame of this video, its so beautiful, so well done, its like it was blessed by The Muses of greek mythology,

Okay so the lyrics at 0:45

"You dont seem to quite understand what is at stake,

This messed up little family that i had to make"

Not only is this line so beautiful with the way her voice sounds, its pretty much a nod to the fact Tink and her friends kidnapped peter pan and the lost kids to keep her and her friends alive

(0:55) \/

"If i could let them all go home please know that i would

But it'd do more harm than good"

Just Tink expressing her guilt that she and her friends kidnapped the lost boys so that they could keep existing, but like, JWHSEAJKHWED, she ofc doesn't want her or her friends to die, and since people are slowly not believing in fairies anymore, they're slowly going extinct, ALSO, Fawn and Silvermist are DEAD, so yeah, that messes with someones head

AAAALSOOOO, i LOVE their silhouettes, the height and weight differences instead of them all having the same height and weight like in the movies, plus, i LOVE that despite not looking like how they do in the movies, you can probably still tell who is who,

ALSO

Even if it wasnt intentional, i like how in kinda faraway shots, Tink has a more cuter roundish look, while in closer shots shes more edgy and more intimidating(? if that's the right word), kinda showing how others view her (kinda?) as a cute fairy, maybe underestimated, but yknow, close up, shes plotting to kill a child

(1:15)

I love how Tink is gesturing in this scene, cause 1. It conveys to the audience what she wants from the lost boys and 2. Canonically, when fairies talk, people usually just hear jingling of bells, so shes gesturing because shes also conveying what she wants to the lost boys

1:23

"Swear its nothing personal, its a necessary evil"

I just love this line because it is a necessary evil, she needs the lost boys and peter pan in neverland to believe in fairies so that they exist, and Wendy is pretty much a threat, since she makes the lost boys want to grow up with families,

Also, the lost boys look so cute in here, i cant remember their names tho, one is holding a slingshot, aiming at wendy, one is holding rocks , and one has a stick , so Tink just told these children to assassinate Wendy, or at least attack her.

1:35

I love how the kids explain that Tink make them do it, and Peter Pan just glares at Tink, and i love that I'm pretty sure that Peter isn't mad/doesnt blame the lost boys

As seen in this scene where Pete is smiling and stuff at the Lost Boys and/or at Wendy

1:55

I love how Tink refers to Wendy as a "Nasty little spark" because, a spark can turn into a fire, damaging a lot of stuff and people, pretty much saying that Wendy has to be snuffed out before she causes a fire,

"Setting fires inside my house is just not allowed"

Pretty much referring to the fact that Wendy, the spark, is creating a fire, aka, making the lost boys want to grow up and go back to the real world, making them not believe in fairies anymore, thus, making her and her friends die, which is, not allowed.

Also. the fear in Tink's eyes is so fear, her expression is on point, the mix of concern and fear is just, so beautiful, also i love her pointed ears

2:17

First of all, this screenshot does not do justice to the actual design of the mermaid (siren?), cause they are AMAZING, BEAUTIFUL, GORGEUS.

Also, the fact that Tink is persuasive enough to convince someone to kill Wendy in such a short amount of time is impressive, and the fact that the mermaids agreed so quickly is also impressive,

When it failed, the absolute horror and shock on Tink's face? Shes horrified that another plan of hers failed, and shes scared that her friends might die, like, wow

The despair on her face is just so...asdjwoaijdoiwajd

3:38

The fact that Peter Pan (i cant even give him a nickname cause Pete sounds different and P.P. is just wrong and Pan is just A Thing), first at the gust of wind that blows away the pixie dust (which keeps the ship afloat) he covered his eyes, maybe cause the dust or his hair in his eyes, then he looks at Tink in anger and shock and probably some confusion, then looks at Wendy, in concern and fear,

Theory: Pan knows that, since Tink doesnt want the lost boys to leave, and he knows that gust of wind was from the fairies, and Tink's dislike and hatred to WEndy, that Wendy was probably the only one not going to be saved, which is why he only looks at her and tries to save her (that or he's a SIMPPPPPPP /j)

3:50

The fact that you can see Wendy screaming??? Chills,

And the black screen right after, signalling Wendy's death is just amazing

Anyways, overall, what im saying is

THIS SONG IS AMAZING GO CHECK IT OUT, GO CHECK OUT THIS PERSONS CHANNEL, THEY HAVE GOOD VILLAIN SONGS, THEY EVEN HAVE ENCANTO!!!!

[frxxxncx]

need to know - k. soonyoung

»boyfriend!¡kwon soonyoung x fem!¡reader.

»Summary: you just wanted to dance all night long, but the night had other plans for you.

»Tags: smut (MDNI), pet names, establish relationship, chocking, exhibitionistm, dirty talk (I suck at this, I’m not joking), degradation…?, sex in public, bulge kink kind of, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, it’s a little nasty at the end ngl, kinda mean dom!soonyoung, sub!reader.

»Words: 1.7k

note: This concept of Kwon Soonyoung makes me scream in my pillow every night. Need to know was my most played song in 2021.

note 2: Any typo or incoherence that you might find was completely intentional, it’s for the sake of learning about my mistakes.

Your pink mini-skirt danced gracefully with you, stroking your plump thighs softly, fabric barely covering your ass, chest moving slowly, contrasting with the voluptuous motions of your hips.

You felt aroused, only looking for your boyfriend's gaze from the bar counter, you were the one who proposed to go out to dance, but Soonyoung, even though he liked to dance was not in the mood to do it that day, but you were willing to make his cock raise proud, as if you had telekinesis.

You felt someone behind you, but you were certain that it wasn’t your boyfriend, you were going to get away from him but an evil thought crossed your filthy mind, you decided to use the disrespectful guy whom was gripping grossly tight your waist with his flagrant sticky and sweaty hands, you wanted to provoke your boyfriend, but his reaction was taking long that you expected and you were starting to get utterly disgusted by the stranger.

Still it was thrilling, you knew what was coming after this stunt you just made. The movements of your hips were exaggerated, while your hands were placed over the other guy. Gross.

It was extremely uncomfortable to feel the unfamiliar hands travel your body with that intimacy, but at the same time you shiver at the feel of Soonyoung's strong gaze over you. So he finally saw you.

The foreign hands disappeared, being replace for your boyfriend’s hot and heavy touch, you could hear clearly how Soonyoung shouted with rage “Fuck off”. A chill ran down your back, you knew perfectly what was coming and you were so fucking prepared for the consequences of your actions.

His hands were squeezing your waist so tightly, and you were sure the silhouette of his fingers was going to be engraved in your skin in a purplish color by tomorrow. His warm breath felt delicious over the back of your neck, body’s so close you could feel all of him pressed against you. Soonyoung tongue caressed your ear feeling the cold metal of your piercings.

“Did you like provoking me while grinding against that bastard like a fucking slut in heat?” He whispered, one of his hands getting to the hem of your pinky skirt, thighs clenching together at the familiar feeling striking your cunt, his digits travelled over your soft skin, and under your skirt, fingers stroking the fabric of your lingerie.

The darkness of the place played in your favour, no one seemed like they were able to see a thing, or maybe they were just enjoying the show, perhaps they were doing the same with their partners.

The rough palms of Soonyoung caressed your cunt over the silky fabric of your underwear, making you stutter in his arms, his left hand rested on your neck choking you slightly, enough to make you moan at the pressure, you could feel your slick starting soak the thin fabric of you lingerie, you were dripping like a faucet and you needed a plumber to help you fix the problem, most definitely.

His cold fingers sneaked inside your underwear, digits now dripping wet in your arousal, you shivered thrilled with his fingers now rubbing circles in your swollen and needy clit, your hips wouldn’t stop moving anxious due to the strokes that started to become faster and faster, putting more pressure in the delicate bud of nerves, his middle fingers travelled to your core, making his ways inside of you, your hands gripped his wrist tightly, retaining a guttural moan that was building up in your throat.

His ring finger joined inside, now both digits were playing in your warm embrace, rubbing into all the good spots inside of you, while his palm was fondling your clit, his fingers scissoring you, stretching your velvety walls. Your moans slipped from your mouth uncontrollably, and you were so glad that the music was so loud, otherwise everyone would notice how your boyfriend was finger fucking the life out of you.

“You pussy so cute and so wet for me, I can feel your cunt so deliciously tight around my fingers” he whispered in your ear, curling his fingers and tightening the grip in your neck “Come on, baby, beg me for it and I will give it to you” the kiss below your ear makes you gasp, breathing was starting to become difficult “Beg for me, just like the cockslut you are” a high pitch moan escape from you when his fingers stretched more inside of you, the burning feeling only making you wish for more.

“Please, please, I need you” you whine desperately, head pressed against his chest, arching your back and moving your hips, feeling the hard on in the base of your back.

“It turns you on, huh?” His hoarse voice behind you contrasted with he sensual music that was playing now, hand that was fingering you, now unzipping his pants hurriedly“I’m going to fuck you infront of all these people and you are soaking wet for it”

He lifted your skirt and moved your underwear to the side, you felt the fabric tear in your skin, and sighed at it, his cock was caressing your sticky folds, spreading all your juices on his shaft, sliding easily on your lips.

“God, you’re so ready for me” he purred, and without thinking twice he thrusted inside of you groaning satisfied after bottoming you out, a loud and guttural moan break from you, due to the force and the toughness of the thrust it kind of burned, but it burned so good that the coil that been building in your belly increased enormously.

“Ooh, baby, you’re so perfect, so good for me” Soonyoung’s dancer hips pistoned with an animalistic pace, biting your lips was starting to become a poor attempt to muffle some of your whimpers, even the wet and lewd sound was beginning to echo over the music in your ears.

Your velvety walls were clenching around Soonyoung’s dick, making him groan satisfied, the sound of his voice caressing your ears like honey, almost triggering your desired orgasm.

The pleasure filled your insides and your clit wouldn’t stop pulsating under Soonyoung insisting rubs, left hand gripping firmly your neck taking your breath away, the coil in you belly was so close to bursting, your hips trembling and colliding with his that wouldn’t stop pistoning into you, every thrust tougher than the other.

At some point, both of his hands rested on your belly, pressing not tight but just enough to make you see stars over your head like a pretty halo, his dick jammed inside of you and the pressure of his hands made you feel like your guts were being rearranged, everything was hot and narrow, your lips were bright red and glossy, you thought that tomorrow they would hurt so bad.

Soonyoung kept hammering into you, one hand pressing your stomach and the other taking your breath away once again, while his hips drilled into you fast and messy, your so desired orgasms stroke through you, body jerking forward as you howled in pleasure, while he kept grunting on the damp skin of your nape, and finally he let go of you neck. He plumped himself dry into you, painting your insides white.

And perhaps it was because you were on a public place or maybe it was the fact that your boyfriend just was exceptionally good at fucking you, but if he wasn’t holding you tight, you would be in the floor due to the overstimulation.

“Fuck, I think we need to go home” he said getting out of you slowly, hearing you whine in the process, now he was fixing his pants and holding tight onto you.

The words could get out of your mouth properly, you only remained clinging onto Soonyoung’s arm while his still warm cum travelled in the soft skin between your thighs, your cunt was sore, even then you could feel his dick inside of you, making you shudder, your legs were all wobbly and the sticky load was peeking from the edge of your skirt. Soonyoung felt bad about it and wiped it as much as he could with his hand, and then he fixed your underwear so his cum wouldn’t go anywhere.

You tried to walk while grabbing your boyfriend’s shirt tightly, but your legs just gave up and a mini scream came out when you felt like falling on your face.

“Sonnie, I can’t, my legs” you said, stuttering looking at your boyfriend with shining eyes because of the tears, still moaning quietly trying to stand still.

He looked at you with furrowed eyebrows and a smirk, satisfied of having fucked you so well you couldn’t even walk, but still he felt a little -just a little- bad for you, maybe he was to rough, you liked it though.

Chuckling Soonyoung gave you one last look full of joy and breathed out surrendering.

“Come on, pretty, I’ll carry you” he said before lifting you into bridal style, making you feel as light as a feather. “When we get home, I’ll make us a warm bath and I’ll clean you up very well, it’s okay, honey?” He asked in a childish tone, making you laugh and nod at the same time.

Once you were outside the club, Soonyoung made sure to put you in the passenger seat carefully but still a gasp came out of you, he zipped your belt and closed your door, and then he went to his seat.

During the drive home, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit tense because of the sticky mess in between your legs, but still the light burn in your core felt quite pleasant making your cunt pulsate.

When you finally where in front of your house, you sighted “Next time instead of fucking in the middle of the dance floor, better drag me to the car and fuck my brains out here” the embarrassment was starting to kick in, the liquid confidence losing its effects.

Soonyoung looked at you with a crooked smile "why next time when I can do it right now?"

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

June 20th

~*~

1. Hi! I would really appreciate some help yo find two fics!

A) The first was a fic in which LZ is a concertist (maybe violin or cello?) And was going home after a concert when it starts to rain and he goes into a book store, where Wen Qing works, and behind the book store there is a coffee shop, LZ sits near the bar and interacts a little w a-yuan, then WY plays a song and LZ finds his passion for music again or something like that. I don't quite remember the rest

B) the second one was one in which, during seclusion(? LZ finds a book his mom wrote that had gardening tips inside, so he starts tending to the garden however he can without being able to leave his house. Eventually he discovers that the book isn't just about gardening but instead about a different kind of cultivation involving plants, and that with it he might be able to bring back WY. He works hard on it and is eventually able to do it. I don't quite remember the other details @katt-patt

1A)

FOUND! for you, andante by xuanxuanwo (ostentatiouslyrealistic) (T, 35k, WangXian, Modern AU, Music, Musicians, Pianist LWJ, Guitarist WWX, Kid Fic, Coffee Shops, Bookstores, Existential Crisis, Unrelated JGY & QS, Friendship, Romance, Light Angst, Happy Ending)

1B)

FOUND! From my heart's ground. by orange_crushed (E, 37k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Grief/Mourning, Corporal Punishment, Canon-Typical ViolenceVomiting, Injury Recovery, Trauma, Blood Magic, Elemental Magic, Gardens & Gardening, Resurrection, Dissociation, First Time, Oral Sex, Language of Flowers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cultivation......... Literally, Arson, Self-Harm, Self-Harm for Blood Magic Reasons, Suicidal Thoughts, Spiritual Coma, Brief Reference to Temporary Incontinence as a Result of Said Coma, Self-Esteem Issues)

~*~

2. Ok I’ve been avoiding doing this bc it feels rude to ask for pwp (not rude at all! We take all types of asks ^^ - Mod C) so you can ignore this if you want, but I’ve been looking for this one fic that was dragon lwj and Fox wwx, in like a magical forest, and I specifically remember a scene where wwx is in heat and everyone knows but he’s just playing with children and messing around near a water source until lwj comes out and finds him and if you can find it for me I will love you forever thank you

FOUND? #2 it's "Budding Chrysanthemum" by Anonymous. Looks like its deleted from ao3 but i have a copy ~imstillthinkingaboutithmm

~*~

3. Hello! I'm looking for this fic where modern!wwx gets sent to the world of mdzs and spends a year there before going back to the modern world. I remember that he was roommates with modern!wq and that during the year he was gone modern!wq and modern!jc put up missing posters for him

FOUND? Wrong Turn, Right Place by diamondbruise (E, 71k, WangXian, Time Travel, kind of, it’s more reality travel but there’s modern wwx and cultivator lwj, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jealousy, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Cultural Differences)

~*~

4. hi!! I love your blog, it has helped me massively in finding fics to read ❤️ This is my first time asking for a fic so I don't know if I'm doing something wrong okay? I'd like to request help in finding a fic...

It was like a time traveler fic with Wangxian where they were saying goodbye to each other as Wei Wuxian left the cloud recesses lectures. It was in Lan Xichen pov.

They were declaring their intent to court each other, LWJ said that he will come with a dizi as his first courting gift. WWX said that he would become a famous cultivator and court LWJ by 22 yrs but then LWJ said 22 yrs is too late and WWX should court him at 19.

Lan Xichen also remarked that WWX gave the Compass of Evil & some other inventions to the lan sect and they would be very fine courtship gifts with the proper presentation

Could you all help me in finding this fic? It was part of a series too

FOUND? Wait, What? by MarbleGlove (G, 1k, WangXian, Time Travel, POV Outsider)

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5. I'm trying to find a fanfic of alternative/time travel ghost Wei Wuxian taking care of Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen, the story takes place after the siege and he somehow ended up in a time just after madam lan's death and finds Lan Wangji in the snow, only Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen can see him, later on he gets Qingheng-Jun out of seclusion (he can see him too it just isn't revealed until later. @samriajack

FOUND! Waiting by Morgana_avalon (G, 46k, WangXian, LXC & LWJ, Short Story, LWJ is five year old, LXC is eight year old, LWJ as a boy kneeling in the snow at the jingshi waiting for his mama to return, brothers looking out for each other, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, canon divergent but also canon compliant, Mystery, Mysticism, Chenqing, Bichen, happy endings, The Qilin, Based on the TV-series and not the novel)

~*~

6. Hi I need your help again oh great master of finding fic so I don't remember the name obviously but I know it's a podfic so here's what I remember Madame Lan is alive she was released by uncle Lan and she travel to yiling

And meant little wei ying where he told her his parents' names and then she went and tried to find their bodies and she did find her bodies and then she took their swords for their son and then she traveled with wei ying and this is a serious but it's not complete yet and I'm kind of want to read it but if the podficer is going to pops it all I want to hear it so please help me find it

~*~

7. Hii, okay so this one is kind of harder :(, I am looking for this fic where idek what is going on but what I really do remember is them sleeping together during the indocrination (sounds wrong lol) but what I mean is that everyone is all of a sudden closer and instead of sleeping in the beds the wens gave them and also not do anything, they separated the girls and put up privacy walls using their robes? to give them privacy. I can't remember anything else sorry. @thatperson0-0

~*~

8. Also, for the next FF, I kind of remember reading a fic where WWX was desperate to get somewhere fast and I think they managed to get Li'l Apple to ride a sword? (Probably 2 or 3 swords tandem, a single sword would have to be an FF7 buster sword to fit a donkey.) maybe they carried her? @mreisse

FOUND? Menace by MnemonicMadness (T, 7k, LQR & WWX WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt WWX, BAMF WWX, Downplaying an Injury, awkward comforter LQR, reluctant matchmaker LQR, Humor, Pining WWX, Good Uncle LQR, Self-Sacrificing WWX, POV LQR, LQR is stressed, And also secretly a softie, Post-Canon)

~*~

9. Hi! This is for fic finder. It's modern au where WWX was a chef i think? He worked in restaurant with wen chao. That restaurant was owned by wen ruohan i think. But wen chao did something that makes WWX gets fired. Then near the end of the story i think, LWJ invited WWX to his music performance (not sure about this part. Its either he invited WWX or WWX wants to tell LWJ something). But when WWX arrived, he noticed that the kitchen is a mess. He found out that LWJ hire Jin Zixun as chef because Jin Zixun bothered him too much. And then WWX takes over the kitchen. Thats all i think. Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

#9 is right! I can't open the link so i search for another website and i found it in SquidgeWorldArchive for registered user only

FOUND! i swim in hollow lakes carved from memories by spookykingdomstarlight (T, 154k, WangXian, XiYao, Modern AU, Coffee Shops & Cafés, Music, Baking, Social Media, Misunderstandings, Consequences of Fake Dating Schemes, Flashbacks, Vlogger WWX, Professional Musician LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mistakes, Pining, Matchmaking, Romance, Illnesses, Slow Burn, Background SangNing, POV Multiple, Second Chances) I think it was wc not jzx who was hired, otherwise matches

~*~

10. hello!!! I'm looking for a fic where WWX falls into a underground cave and encounters a dragon in his disciple era and takes a sword that transform him into a dragon. I really can't remember what happens next, only that he goes on his rogue cultivator arc and later on find LWJ but believes that's his descendants and not LWJ himself. I'm going to keep looking but maybe you are luckier than me and find it first.

FOUND? Our Immortal Blood by Saori (M, 81k, WangXian, Alternate Universe, Temporary Character Death, Minor Character Death, Platonic Relationships, Family Feels, Blood and Injury, Night Hunts, Monsters, Immortality, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Slow Burn, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Marriage Proposal, Angst with a Happy Ending)

~*~

11. For fic finder: It was a WangXian arranged marriage au. What I remember is that the two did not have sex on their wedding night and this caused a rift. For Wuxian who grew up in Yunmeng culture it was a huge offense that Wangji wouldn’t sleep with him, but Wangji didn’t know this because it was standard practice in the Lan clan not to sleep together (I think the Lans had a designated month or something where they had sex). Basically cultural differences in expectation caused the boys to be uncertain around each other. I think Yanli eventually pulls Xichen aside and scolds him for how the Lan have “slighted” Wuxian this way. 

FOUND? In Love and War by Cataclysmic_Calamity (E, 68k, WangXian, A/B/O Dynamics, Canon Divergence, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Arranged Marriage, Kind of a slow burn, enemies to lovers ish, rampant sexual tension, Miscommunication, past emotional abuse, Dubious Consent, Consensual Non-Consent, Semi-Public Sex, Anal Fingering, Dom/sub, Anal Sex)

~*~

12. Hiya! Looking for fic, I can’t remember much of it but I remember that the Jiang’s leave Wwx at the cloud recesses during the study arc because of there abuse being revealed(?) or something about mistreatment. @candyyii

FOUND? 💖 Hoards and treasuresby  apathyinreverie (T, 21k, WangXian, Siblings, Family, not particularly Jiang friendly, YZY Bashing, slightly darker Gusu Lans, LXC being the best brother, Some manipulation, But with the best of intentions, and   not between wangxian, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Smitten LWJ, Fluff, perfect   happiness, adorable WWX, Romance, Some worldbuilding, courting)

FOUND? 💙 Holding shreds by barisan (T, 5k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, No Sunshot Campaign, Body Swap, Not for sexy shenanigans, Chronic Pain, Hurt WWX, Hurt LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abusive YZY, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, Good Uncle LQR, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, POV WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not Jiāng Family Friendly, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Getting Together, Smart WWX)

FOUND? 🔒 in the shadow of moonlit flowers by Reverie (cl410) (T, 56k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, cloud recesses, NHS & LWJ friendship, developing relationship, LWJ pov, minor injuries, autistic LWJ, implied/referenced child abuse, aka YZY warning, genius WWX, light angst, hurt/comfort, WWX protection squad)

~*~

13. I’ve been looking for this one fic that I just can’t remember much about

I don’t remember how it happens but WWX and LWJ have an arranged marriage (I think or something along this premise) WWX doesn’t want to get married and fights it the entire time but LWJ is steadfast in getting married to WWX. Like WWX tries to come up with so many excuses and LWJ is in love with WWX. I know JC, JFM, JYL, and YZY are all in it.

I remember JFM asking WWX if he really thinks LWJ will mistreat him. WWX says no but still doesn’t want to get married.

It ends with them getting married but WWX still saying he doesn’t want to get married.

It’s a one shot but I think I remember being in a series and having a second part to it. I remember there being art at the end showing them getting married but WWX whining about it.

Im making this sounds kinda angst/non consensual but it’s a comedy pretty sure the whole is just WWX being in denial of his feelings @trashyjen

FOUND?🔒Another Kind of Marriage by Titans_R_Us (T, 1k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, supportive families, Fluff and Crack)

~*~

14. Hi, thank you so much for your great work . For the next fic finder, can you please find me a fic. I don't remember much, just that Lan Zhan takes Wei Ying and the wens and hides them in a secret hidden village. That village is where Lan Wangji's mother's home . Lan Zhan has a maternal grandpa and a cousin, I think Lan Xichen finds out about the place eventually 🤔.

FOUND? pale shadows of forgotten names by Chrononautical (T, 56k, wangxian, Madam Lán Lives, Madam Lán Deserves Better, Good Sibling LXC, Badass LXC, He gets there in the end it just takes a while, Not particularly JGY friendly, Gūsū Lán Sect Rules, Canon-Typical Behavior, Unresolved Sexual Tension, the universal fear of growing up to become one of your parents, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives AU, Except WN but he’s very polite, Arranged Marriage, Forced Marriage, Imprisonment, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, not between wangxian, Drunk LWJ, to lighten the mood, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Traumatized WWX, though he will not admit it, Taking time to heal, canon-typical communication skills)

FOUND? Arbitrary by devinokaze (T, 137k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Burial Mounds Ensemble as Family, but live somewhere else, hidden society, Not Everyone Dies, POV Multiple)

~*~

15. Hey first of all thank u for doing a great job. You found a lot of the fics I wanted. I'm searching for another fic. It's post canon and wei ying was traveling alone. He meets the juniors on a night hunt and saved them from a beast I think . He gets badly hurt on the stomach and lan Zhan gets there immediately to bring him back to cloud ressesive. Lan zhan nurses him back to health but uncle wants him to leave after he recovers. I hope i can find the fic and thanks in advance @smarti1997

FOUND? A Lot of Edges Called Perhaps by hansbekhart (E, 22k, WangXian, Semi-Public Sex, Public Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Anal Sex, Sex in the cold springs, Mutual Pining, Grief/Mourning, Injury Recovery, Ethical Dilemmas, Ethical Edging, and Boners for Justice, It takes a long time for them to bone but they get there, Risk Aware Consensual Patience, Edgeplay sort of, 20K words of sad horniness, Happy Ending, Just the tip but not the way you're thinking) This probably isn't the right one for 15 but A Lot of Edges Called Perhaps is nearly identical to the description but with the roles reversed (Lan Wangji is injured in the stomach and Wei Wuxian takes care of him during his recovery).

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16. hello! I’m looking for a fic that was a modern setting AU and it follows wei ying as a poor teacher I believe( I’m not 100% sure on that, but it’s essential to the plot that he has little money but continues to pay for lan zhan’s services) and one day he stumbles across a website or something and lan zhan is a dom and Wei Yang pays for his service. I’m a big fuzzy on the details but I’m pretty sure there was a spicy scene with the two of them in front of a mirror. And then they continue their sessions and one day they run into each other in a grocery store by wei ying house. Thank you so much for your hard work!!! @bittersweet-loveliness

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17. for the next ficfinder can you help me find this fic? im pretty sure it's called Brothers in Law, where Jiang Chen and Lan Zhan go back in the past, don´t remember much but i think Wen Xu was kinda obssessed with Wei Ying, didn't find it in ao3 but hopefully it wasn't deleted, thxx @omgnuttytale

FOUND! Brother-In-Law’s by Loveable_Psychopath (M, 332k, JYL/JZX, wangxian, JC/WQ, canon divergence, time travel fix-it, Memories, Butterfly Effect, Sexual assualt, Self Harm, Self Doubt, BAMF JC, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rape Recovery, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Everyone Lives au, PTSD, good parent YZY, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Canon-Typical Violence, Warning: JGS, Emotional Manipulation, Manipulation, Second Chances, WIP)

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18. Help me find a fic pls! Wei wuxian is an omega in this one and when lan zhan (alpha) smells him he gets a strong reaction and gets into rut. Wei wuxian is basically outcastes by the lan sect and later on I think he becomes a spy?? lol pls help idk tbh 🙏🙏

FOUND?🔒Pendulum by ShippersList (M, 69k, WangXian, XiYao, Canon Divergence, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Misunderstandings, Canon-Typical Violence, Spies & Secret Agents, Fake Character Death, Slow Burn, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, BAMF WWX, Attempted Sexual Assault, Canonical Character Death, Mutual Pining, Good MY, Introspection, Self-Sacrificing WWX, Love Confessions, Protective LWJ, past child sexual abuse) from the series omegaverse murder gremlins

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19. Bby gurls I need help with a fic where the juniors saw lan zhan with a person in a dress and thought he was cheating when they were getting donuts at a sleep over (they were not allowed to be out that late). The juniors planned to steal his phone during a cookout, only to find searches of him planning a trip of bora bora. Apperantly he want cheating and it was just Wei wuxian dressing up (thx bby gurls I love u)

FOUND? Junior.exe has stopped working by Luminos07 (T, 4k, WangXian, Crack Treated Seriously, Attempt at Humor, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Junior Trio Shenanigans, Crack, Humor, Comedy, What’s the tag for the juniors going through LWJ's phone?, Protective JC, Modern, no actual infidelity, Established Relationship, LWJ's sugar daddy tendencies, WWX Protection Squad)

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20. hi! i'm looking for a particular fic in which there was a recurring anecdote/motif of a wife(?) who would touch the teapot to check the temperature for her husband so often in the same spot that she developed a burn scar on her hand from it. at some point in the fic wangxian had a conversation about whether or not that was romantic, and at another point the pov character (i think it was wwx?) realized that he or lwj had been doing the same thing (in a figurative way) through his actions. i think the fic was a canon era au but it could have been anything, and unfortunately i can't remember enough of the plot to find it. thank you! @ineskew

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[unreliablesnake]

Animals (Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader)

Summary: Ghost hates you. But he's also slightly obsessed with you. This duality leads to an encounter that satisfies his needs, but only releases the beast inside.

Note: Based on this poll and Maroon 5's song Animals. I hope you'll like this. Tell me what you think.

Part 2

Warnings: toxic!Ghost, afab!reader, p in v, oral sex (m receiving), deepthroat, unprotected sex, etc. MINORS DNI!!!

You ending up in the 141 was a punishment. Well, at least it felt like it. Every time you moved, you felt Ghost's darkened eyes following you suspiciously, making sure you didn't do anything stupid, anything that could compromise the task force.

You had worked together in the past, before this team was even assembled, and you went against his order on that mission. He was fucking pissed, refusing to talk to you because otherwise he would have yelled at you without stopping. He didn't tell you why exactly he was mad, after all the mission was a success despite your disobedience.

And now he held a grudge, making you uncomfortable with the heavy silence whenever you were left alone somewhere. You tried to avoid him, desperately clinging to the other members of the team to be saved, but somehow he always found a way to make you feel like shit.

"Behave out there," he once barked as he looked over at you gearing up before leaving the base.

That was all he said. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Price give him a disapproving look, but that didn't seem to bother him. He just returned his attention to his vest, checking if everything was in place. Soap asked him why he was so mad, but Ghost ignored him.

Under the quiet surface the lieutenant was fuming from anger, feeling desperate now that he had to babysit you on the field. He had tried to convince Price to let you work with him and Gaz, hoping this way he would have to spend as little time with you as it was absolutely necessary. But it didn't work and he was stuck with you.

You were annoying, and reckless, and disobedient, but god damn it, you were so hard to resist. A deeply hidden part of his brain was craving you, flashing images of you being naked in his bed, whimpering pathetically as he fucked you.

It was excruciating, having these opposite feelings for you. One half hated you and would have given everything to be able to cut you out of his life entirely, while his other half wanted to own every inch of you.

When the mission was over, things returned to normal. You went home, relieved to be able to spend some time away from his judging eyes. You went to a beauty salon to have your hair done, you did some grocery shopping, and once you got back to your apartment, you cooked yourself a delicious meal.

It was such a nice change, just sitting at the dining table with the plate in front of you, a glass of wine waiting for you to drink it, and your favorite playlist playing in the background. Nights like this you considered quitting, giving up your current lifestyle to have a relatively normal life. Maybe you could finally have a stable relationship, something more meaningful than a string of one-night stands.

Later you poured yourself another glass of wine and went to the living room, getting lost in the rhythm of the music your body swayed to without thinking. You were having fun on your own, for the first time in months feeling good in your skin. No evil glares, no rude comments. Only the safety of your home.

What you couldn't know was that you weren't completely alone. From down the street, Ghost was watching you, his phone's camera focusing on you before snapping some photos. Photos he would store on a safe drive at home, hidden in secret folders along with the hundreds if not thousands of pictures he had taken of you in secret.

He wondered if you knew everyone could see you in nothing but your lingerie, a piece of clothing that wrapped around your skin so perfectly that the sight made his mouth water under the mask.

Ghost was the predator and you were his prey, the innocent little animal having no idea that a beast like him was stalking her. If you knew, you would probably run and hide, but he would find you, after all he could smell your scent from miles.

When you turned off the lights and probably went to bed finally, he went home as well and spent the rest of the night lying awake in bed, thinking about you with his hand tightly wrapped around his cock, pumping slowly as he imagined finally having you the way he wanted.

The next day he was in front of your apartment again, knowing perfectly well you had only gone to a bakery across the street to get something for breakfast. While on a mission about a year ago, around the same time his twisted obsession with you had begun, he stole your phone and installed a software to keep track of your whereabouts.

He hated himself for feeling this way about you, he despised this primal need to have you pinned under his body. It was all so vulgar, so obscene that he tried not to think about it when he was on a mission. But when he was home? Then he would let his needs loose, which usually ended up with him following you around.

Today was shopping day. You went to buy some clothes apparently, and while he waited for you outside the stores, Ghost couldn't help but imagine the way you undressed in the fitting room. He wished he could see you strip for him, slowly getting rid of your clothes, taking them off one by one before throwing them into a corner.

You met a friend for lunch, the two of you chatting casually about their relationship issues, even gossiping about friends you both knew. Who dated who, who had a new job, plastic surgery, family issues, and so on. It was all so normal that you couldn't thank them enough for their time.

What you didn't talk about was work. Your job, specifically. The tiring months away from home, the constant sense of danger, the sleepless nights in uncomfortable cots and beds, and the disappointed looks you constantly got from your superior.

Because Ghost was always in the back of your mind, the look he gave you whenever his eyes landed on you engraved in your brain. It was suffocating you, giving you barely enough time to fully relax. Alcohol could help, but you didn't want to turn yourself into an alcoholic just to get through the day.

After you got home you began to binge-watch rom-coms from the early 2000s, completely forgetting about time along the way. You were only snapped out of this sweet haze when your doorbell rang, reminding you that people outside this apartment existed.

Your good mood evaporated the moment you opened the door and found yourself looking at Ghost's tall frame, his tattooed forearm resting on the doorframe as he looked down at you. You opened your mouth to say something, to find out what in the hell he was doing there, but no sound left your throat.

The lieutenant had enough of waiting and simply let himself in, pushing you out of the way to enter. As he had sat in the cafe across the street about an hour ago, keeping an eye on the main entrance of the building, Ghost thought about what to do with you.

"We need to sort things out," he announced when you closed the door and slowly dragged yourself closer to him.

You froze like a deer in the headlights, your big beautiful eyes slowly blinking at him as if you didn't understand a word he said. Then he noticed a glint in your eyes, as if you'd just woken up from a dream.

"Get the fuck out of my place. We'll sort this out when we're on a mission," you said angrily, your voice surprisingly stern as you spoke.

You were confident now, okay. He could handle that. He could sure as hell fuck this confidence out of you. Without hesitation he pushed off his mask then put a hand on the back of your neck, pulling you into a messy and hungry kiss. You tried to resist, to push him away, but he only used his free hand to stop you from squirming around.

In a matter of short minutes you stopped resisting him, giving up your common sense and giving in to the need he knew you also felt. It had to end this way, there was no other ending to your story. When he gently bit your lower lip, a deep moan escaped your throat, a sound that only made it harder to behave.

"I hate you," you breathed between kisses.

It was okay. He didn't need you to love him or even like him. What he felt wasn't love. It was lust with a hint of some dangerous obsession, something he simply couldn't control. "The feeling's mutual, love. But let's be honest, you're enjoying it just as much as I do."

And damn it, he was right. His kiss, his touch was intoxicating, making you feel so good in such a short amount of time. When he asked you where the bedroom was, you immediately told him, this time obeying him without thinking.

He undressed you, taking away each piece of clothing with care, his fingers exploring the skin they had been hiding all along. When you were standing in front of him completely naked, he ordered you to lie down on the bed with your head hanging down over the edge. Deep down you knew what he wanted to do, and it made you excited.

As you got into position, he quickly undressed himself, revealing his hard, throbbing cock that made your mouth water. You were a little worried, having no idea if his length would fit into your mouth, and already knowing your jaw would hurt after this. But you wanted to do it, you wanted him to use your mouth and throat like a fleshlight.

And Ghost was more than happy to give you what you were waiting for, he also needed this to ease the excitement that was slowly killing him. He took his cock in his hand, stroking it a few times to cover it with his pre-cum before reaching out with his free hand to pry your pretty mouth open. "Open up, baby," he told you.

You obediently did what he ordered, and he slowly pushed the head between your lips, at first just warming you up with small thrusts. But then he dived in deeper, going until the tip reached your throat, making you gag a little.

That didn't stop him, though, he kept fucking your mouth without hesitation. "Fuck, you're such a good little slut, taking my cock like this," he groaned, his hand stroking your cheek. Once he knew you relaxed enough to take him so well, he reached out to tease your cunt, brushing it with his palm, enjoying the wetness that covered his hand.

You could feel the tears form in your eyes as he kept going, wondering how long you would be able to have him in you without feeling your jaw being too sore for it. But when he touched you, all of your doubt disappeared, giving space to the need to have his long fingers inside you, fucking you on both sides.

When he finally began to pump his fingers inside you, you moaned against his cock, a sound that made him groan. "You like it? I can do this all day to you, sweetheart," he said, out of breath. He was close, you could feel it, but you weren't too far behind thanks to his experienced fingers.

It was embarrassing to even think about this happening to you. It wasn't the sex that bothered you, more that it was him from all people. Ghost hated you, you knew he had been honest when he told you that, and you weren't lying either. But this was different, this was so dirty and primal, something you definitely wouldn't tell anyone.

Something that shouldn't happen again.

But now you enjoyed it. You loved to feel his cum on your face when he came, while your juices were dripping out of you, covering his fingers that kept fucking you through your orgasm.

When he was done, he went to the bathroom to get a towel so he could clean your face, an act that was surprisingly tender. He kept telling you what a good girl you'd been, how much he enjoyed having you like this. "It's probably the tension between us. Hate sex suits us," he offered a possible explanation with the hint of a smile.

It didn't take him long to get hard again, and he picked you up like a ragdoll and tossed you into the position he wanted you to be in for him. Ass in the air, resting your weight on your forearms. That's what he wanted, admiring the view of your cunt that was still glistering from the remains of your high.

He couldn't hold himself back, he simply couldn't wait to let you get used to his girth, to slowly and carefully stretch you for himself. Instead he pushed all of length inside with one thrust, the tip reaching your cervix and drawing a pathetic cry out of you. He loved this sound, it only made him go on harder, soon picking up a steady pace.

His hands were gripping your hips so tightly that you just knew it would leave a bruise behind, but you didn't mind, not as long as he made you feel this good. He was pushing you close to your limit, testing how much you could take without breaking.

Your forehead hit the mattress, teeth sinking into your hand to bite back your moans, for some reason thinking you had to be quiet because of your neighbors. But Ghost wasn't fond of the muffled noises apparently, because he reached out to pull your head away from your hand. "I wanna hear you, love," he said quietly.

His breathing suddenly changed, a telltale sign that he was close to his own climax. He put one hand on your stomach, and another arm around your neck to pull you up against his chest, his pace never slowing, his thrusts just as deep as before.

You were lost in the sensation, your brain not functioning properly anymore as you let him use you as some filthy fucktoy. Ghost knew what he was doing, and he could certainly read your body language perfectly well to know what you did and didn't like. Whenever he got too rough, the chokehold he had you in becoming too tight for you liking, he eased up.

But when he came, filling you with his cum in the company of a series of deep growls and groans, he reached down to rub your clit, making sure you climaxed as well. You threw your head back against his shoulder, looking him in the eye as you came down from your high.

Your body went limp, and if he hadn't held you tightly, you would've fallen face first into the mattress. "Are you okay?" he asked you quietly, placing a kiss on your head.

You mumbled something under your breath, but it didn't make any sense. You couldn't speak, not yet. This was more intense than anything you'd ever experienced, your brain definitely needed time to catch up with your body.

"Hey, are you listening?" When you didn't answer, he began to laugh. "Damn, I really fucked you brainless, didn't I?"

Ghost couldn't hide his smile, satisfied to see you in this state, feeling proud that he could achieve his goal. You weren't cocky or confident anymore, you were just a brainless meat sack, with no coherent thoughts in your brain.

Not long after this you fell asleep, and Ghost used this time to take a look around your apartment. He checked your clothes, surprised to find so many beautiful dresses in your closet, along with some sexy lace bras that you definitely didn't wear on missions. Then he went to the living room where he found photos on the shelves, probably ones with your family on them.

Your phone was on the coffee table so he checked that as well, glad to know your password. He went through your emails and instant messages to see who you were talking to, and he became furious when he saw your Tinder dates messaging you, asking for another meeting.

That was more than enough for him, he simply gathered his things and left without waking you or leaving a note behind. He needed time to calm down, preferably far from you. While he still hated you, still wished he could get rid of you forever, that stupid obsessed part of him was still there in the back of his mind, making him feel jealous.

When he returned home, he connected his secret drive to his laptop to go through the photos and videos he stored on it. Fucking you wasn't enough apparently, his mind kept returning to you, the need to keep an eye on you coming back without a warning.

With a sigh he checked the app on his phone the next evening, noting that you were in some bar near your apartment. You probably went there with a friend, but something told him it could just as well be some guy that was sending messages to you. He had to go there and see it for himself. If he didn't, he wouldn't be able to sleep that night.

Weeks passed without you hearing from Ghost. You still thought about him, feeling disgusted that you actually liked the way he fucked you that day. But now that you were going on another mission, you began to wonder what things would be like between you now. Would he be nicer to you finally? Would he at least give you some credit?

In the end none of this happened. When you met again, you were greeted by his cold, dead eyes, his words sounding harsher than ever before. You overheard Soap telling about this to Gaz, and the two men began to wonder how long it would be before Price stepped in. They were right. The captain wasn't fond of this kind of behavior, especially not when it was a lieutenant treating his own sergeant like this.

"You stay put," Ghost told you when you began to get out of the car.

You looked over at Soap with a questioning look, but he only shrugged in response, having no idea what was happening. "Why?" you asked your superior.

He inhaled and exhaled slowly with closed eyes to calm himself. "Because I said so. Stay in the car and don't move."

"Lt., we need all the help we can get out there," Soap tried as he walked around the car and stopped next to the other man. "Just let her come with us."

But he didn't listen, only shut the door in your face and signaled the Scot to follow him. You didn't know why he had to be like this with you. Apart from that one time you had disobeyed him, you never gave him a reason to treat you like this.

Ghost's blood pressure had to be off the charts as he walked away from the car. Soap kept talking, trying to convince him to let you join them, but he didn't give in. He couldn't give in. His mixed feelings for you couldn't cloud his judgment. He was your higher up, he had every right to tell you what to do.

Even if that need probably came from the frustration he felt whenever he followed you around outside of missions. There he couldn't talk to you, couldn't tell you what to do, where to go, who to talk to. Nothing. He had absolutely no control over your life.

Fuck. So his decision really did come from those mixed feelings. Price had noticed something was wrong between the two of you a long time ago, and he warned him before leaving the base that day. "Treat her right. I don't want unnecessary tension in the team," he said.

Letting out a sigh, he turned to the sergeant. "Soap, go back for her. I hope she won't fuck this up for us this time," he said, hoping he would pass this message on.

"Aye, sir," the Scot said with a smile. "I'll be right back with her."

Ghost truly hoped he wouldn't regret this. You were distracting him, especially since he finally had to chance to sleep with you. He had withdrawal symptoms that were getting worse by each day, reminding him that you were like a fucking drug that he couldn't get out of his mind.

No. Focus. He had to focus. Shit. Why was this so hard all of a sudden?

"What changed your mind? Suddenly remembered that I'm part of the team?" you asked when you and Soap caught up with him.

Turning to you, the lieutenant gave you a sharp look. If he ever had the chance to fuck you again, you would definitely pay for this question. Just one chance. That's all he wanted to correct your behavior.

[bcacstuff]

Day 3 Highlanders 7 con 21 July 2024 at the Hilton Metropole Hotel, Birmingham

Charles Q&A

They only let him do some stunts. The apple "may have" already been cut in half 😅

At his first OL audition (over zoom from his bedroom), he did a Peaky Blinders accent because thought the English all have the same accent - he works hard on it, accents don't come naturally to him

William inherited the "good Fraser fire" from Jamie but learned how to be reserved (a "board") from LJG so he often feels the conflict within himself what he is vs what he was "trained" to be

One of the auditions (all on zoom) was the Death Song scene with JB - it was weird for him to see these "fictional characters" in real life. Couldn't mention the other audition scenes because they're 7B spoilers

He had phantom pain in his arm from the stick. They sent him to London to have a mold made of his arm

He has no piano in his flat but would go to the Edinburgh train station and use the public piano

Dream role: anything - "I love employment" but likes characters that exist between good and evil

Superstitions: not for acting but the supernatural - hasn't used a Ouija board because he doesn't know if they work but what if they do??

William is "a bit of a shit" and a "brat" when we first meet him in 7A

They did audition someone else for William for S6 (those episodes would have been late in 6) but he would have been too young. Since they shortened 6, they didn't cast William until later.

Someone asked whether he was intimidated by S&C. The audience member then went on telling a story how Caitlin before she got to set, was told S&C were a "power couple" and together in real life. Then when she got there she was told opposite (you could hear people gasp when she said that)

While Charles really didn't answered above, he later on was asked what his favourite movie is, he didn't really have one but said he really loved Ford vs Ferrari, so when he met Caitriona he thought "Whoa"

Mom had watched the show but he binged it in 2 weeks when he got the audition - didn't have the part yet

Felt imposter syndrome and a lot of pressure - do I want to take on being Jamie Fraser's son?

Ultimately LJG is William's dad but important for him to find out who is he to learn about himself

This convention is "so fun" because they couldn't answer any questions during the strike and all they were asked were things like "what's your favourite colour"

Scenes that stuck out when he binged: Claire and BJR in Garrison Commander; the shinty scene

Doesn't have a go-to karaoke song - has never done karaoke. But he would do something like Tequila so all he has to say is 1 word (then they played it when he was leaving the stage)

Sophie, Richard & David

Sophie is apparently a favourite "on the internet" to play Harry Potter's mom in the HBO series. She says "I'm working on it" (ie she'd like to do it).

Their favourite locations to film - Sophie Lallybroch (inside and what they created on set); Richard - University of Glasgow; David - Hopetoun House

David making fun of the questions they always get asked (what would you take from set; what other characters would you like to play) - everyone laughs

If they could play another character, Sophie would play Rollo

Certain scene they were really proud of - Sophie birthing scene "broke some blood vessels"; David never thinks he does well - could have done it differently especially the scene where Jamie offers his body;

What cocktail would your character be: Sophie - Spicy margarita; Richard - Old Fashioned; David Pina Colada because he likes the song (doesn't know any cocktails - people were shouting them out to him)

What would you like to learn how to do: David - Magic the Gathering - watched them play last night and wants them to teach him before wrap; Richard is learning to fly

Which time period do you prefer - Brianna 50/50 - Sophie 1700s "corsets aside" especially since they're all filming together. Richard agrees. David: Lord John in modern times is living in the West Village in NYC running an art gallery called Fraser's 🤣🤣

Karaoke songs: Richard's - Piano Man; David - To be With You (Mr Big): Sophie - Party in the USA

Favourite costume - Richard "from this year" but didn't say which one (didn't want to spoil anything); David - Governor of Jamaica (Sophie says you've had some really good costumes and David said you just realized that???)

Favourite scene to film: Richard - driving around the Highlands (felt like our own little "side Outlander"); Sophie - when she confronts Bonnett in the jail (felt very empowered); David - first day, first scene he filmed dragging Sam on the horse "was a highlight on reflection"

Everyone is treated the same by production

Sophie used to be the makeup trailer DJ but Wendy has taken over

The first scene with Roger & Jamie was fun to shoot but he felt Jamie had "a bit of an overreaction"

What are you obsessed with? Richard - Magic the Gathering; David - his son; Sophie - music

Any scenes that you were intimidated by: David one coming up in 7B (we should all know what it is); Richard - intimate scenes; Sophie - ones that are emotionally challenging and you "take with you"

Question about what you're proud of. Sophie tells the story of when she potty-trained her dog. The dog became so excited he jumped on her, split her lip and she ended up in the emergency room. David then says "do you know what proud means??" • Richard - passing his driving test because he failed 3x; David - when he finished his first block of OL

Character you haven't worked with you would like to - Richard & David said each other. Richard: maybe in the next block then Sophie says "but you're in the 80s", someone mentioned Jemmy and the stones and it just went downhill from there 😅; Sophie - Black Jack

During closing ceremonies everyone is taking photos and Cree (of course) says "go on take your photos like we're animals in a zoo". Then he says something about a "gaggle of lusty women" and Sean says "there is if your name is Sam Heughan"

Sean had organized other fan events then started watching Outlander. He wanted to do an event and learned the person to contact is Steve Himber as he "represents" Sam and Caitriona to get it started. Then Steve says he's "not responsible for Steven Cree"

All credits including pics to my friend at the con (who wishes to remain anonymous) Thank you so much for keeping notes for us (and for me to post!) Great Job, well done! 🧡🧡🧡

[sin-sidejob]

Insidious Inside Job: Halloween pt. 2

Note: Inspired by skoshibuns fanart on instagram + I have songs linked with each segment for the specific portion that goes with the monster, the plot, or both + reminder, I may be an english major but this thing is barely proofread

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Minors DNI, AFAB + GN PRONOUNS, RAW SEX (wrap that rascal), monster-fucking, tentacle fucking, inhuman creatures, furry fucking? One brief scene of alluded almost sexual assault/assault (that gets stopped and interrupted) incredibly vague nothing actually happens, drug use/roofied/narcotics, I guess, werewolf (slight A/B/O dynamics), breeding kink, talks of missing body parts and death, cockwarming, somnophilia the undead, zombies, doctor play, doctor kink, doctor/fake patient, living dead, experimentation with cadavers and dead bodies, mention of illness/cancer, various Halloween-y phenomena + probably more

Content: smut, spooky scary spectral holiday smuttening, monster and inhuman creature fucking, usual debauchery you can expect from me, dicks and pussy, inhuman and monster genitalia, reader has AFAB nethers/genitalia and a cunt but I don’t describe about tits so folks are safe, I used gender neutral pronouns all throughout as well. Mentions of underwear and generalized clothing but no bras or gendered articles of clothing. Southernification of Robotus (you’ll see) + probably more

! ! ! This is part two, with Reagan + Brett + Andre + Robotus + Myc. Part one, located here, includes Gigi + JR + Glenn + a bonus character ! ! !

Reagan Ridley: MAD SCIENTIST

• songs: Evil Eye - Franz Ferdinand

- You were used to the chaotic cadence that came with knowing and loving the reclusive Dr. Ridley, enjoying the maniacal dynamic and aiding her in her experiments, helping her tidy up should a test go awry. You aided her in all her endeavors, even the unsightly ones, and that dedication and mutual trust blossomed into friendship and then eventually love and list. Simple creatures, you two were, and instincts were a gravitational pull as equally potent to magnets as to mankind.

- The latter half of the year, when the weather turns and the leaves change and shed their green covers to don the classic golden hues, is when she came alive even more. She found energy in the fall and winter weather, more likely to be within the confines of her laboratory and adding scrawled, scratch-like lines into her notebooks and texts, running about with her coat billowing behind her like a shadow tethered to her, fluttering beside her with the grace of a conspirator.

- There were times when she would not need your assistance and you would be free and left to your own devices, wandering about the extravagant library and traipsing through the halls, snooping where you shouldn't, and happily receiving your punishments. Life was good and continued to be so, almost mundane in an unnatural, phenomenal way. There was no dark side of the moon to you, only the light because the shadows were your home, and the person you called lover languished alongside you in Moonglow-shaded craters.

- But your favorite moments had to be when it was you she was examining, you who she was teasing and playing with, black patent leather gloves that were entirely unsafe and unethical in a lab environment used on your form, drawing out pinpricks of chills. Especially now as Reagan hums at the sight of your disheveled state, silent beside her idle noises and internalized dialogue as if she is annotating already-written notes within the confines of her brain of you as her hands draw out more data to analyze, almost pulling all your secrets pool forth from moaning lips via her ministrations.

- Reagan is seldom tender or ginger in her touch, not in a harshness but more in a neutral, guiding, directing manner. Like moving you about with the same grace as working with her equipment and tools, movements memorized and muscles well-accustomed to all that you are. She can be softer, in aftermath moments where your body and senses can not make heads or tails of where the two of you ended or began, fully enwrapped and enveloped in one another like coiled vines of ivy, cascading upwards and intertwining in great efforts. But now, her touch is not soft, but steady and purposeful.

- Cold gloves remove clothing and secure straps onto your body, across your limbs, and holding you tight against a weathered and soft wooden table, built with the intention to be used for medical seminars and demonstrations. You lay, naked and taut upon a staged table in the center of an empty auditorium for the use of educational experimentation presentations and viewing seminars for research and study. The arena on her property is empty, no event planned for today, just the two of you in the grand room and feeling infinitesimally small, yet powerful simultaneously.

- "Not too tight?" Dr. Reagan Ridley asks softly as she busies herself with hovering over the straps that secure your wrists and ankles to the examination table, gloved hands running along oiled leather seams. "Perfect." is your answer and her smile matches the word, pride in her eyes at her wonderful assistant, her previous lover. "There's my darling, now what are te rules?" she asks, unbuttoning her labcoat to expose her blouse and slacks beneath, slinky and clinging to her body in a way that makes your firsts clench just so, palms opening and closing with the yearning need to touch.

- "Nuclear is stop, gradient is slow down, and prism is keep going, or good." you answer, squirming a bit against the restrains for show and shuffling your ass against the soft wood, feeling the cool air caress your exposed, already leaking pussy. "Wonderful," the Doctor trails off, wandering away from the table and leaving you to lay spread and scan your eyes across the planetarium-painted ceiling above and marvel at the gold leaf details in the stars and constellations, drawing you back in when she returns and adjusts her gloves with a small thwack, "now, where should we begin?"

- You don't respond immediately, not knowing how or where to answer, unable to distinguish a clear mood in her dark eyes for what she wants and what she is planning to take from you. The hesitation makes Reagan decide on her own, a dark chuckle emerging from her lips and settling in the base of your spine, curling like a funnel stormcloud. "Alright then, guess it's up to Doctor's orders." She smooths softened leather against your inner thighs and parts your lips, blowing cool air in puffs against your exposed cunt and clicking her tongue in notes as her mind wanders in fascination.

- "I think I'll start here, test your sensitivity first hmm?" she asks aloud, mainly to herself, the table raised to her waist so she can easily maneuver around you and toy with you, like a doll. It feels all like a pleasurable version of The Princess Bride's pit of despair but mixed with a sex dungeon and none of the latex. "There, how does that feel?" it feels good, decent, not enough as the first portion of her pointer finger breaches your walls, the texture not adding much besides a cooler sensation. You answer the same, and she hums before moving on, shifting in a manner reminiscent of a cat's sly sway.

- "Space for improvement, good." she comments, a stray hair falling into her forehead from her tight ponytail, dark hair pulled back and away from her face and allowing you to fully watch her move and her shifting expressions. She thrusts the finger into you, slowly and watching as you clench around her, gaping and closing in a rhythmic pattern. "And this?"

- "its g-good too," you choke out, shifting your head from looking at her to nothing, eyes shut and you try not to squirm, letting her venture as she pleased, "but not good enough?" Reagan asks, and you nod in agreement, prompting her to curl her finger upwards, matching with her second finger, and smirking, brows arching as she watches you grow more and more disheveled.

- "ah," you moan out, lip tugged between your teeth as you bite down, fists clenching and unclenching once the pleasure begins to initially build, feeling it bubble forth in your belly like a tide pool on the beach, collecting and growing as more gets put into it. "Now that's a reaction, keep speaking beautiful." she directs, curling in upward strokes from within your walls

- You nod, mewling a bit as your voice breaks and pitches, feeling her slide in another digit, pointer finger to ring finger all slotted. Her gloves are thicker, making the stretch a bit wider than what you're accustomed to, and you break a tad, grinding your hips down and wriggling, aching to get something more, and that something ends up being Reagan's attention.

- "Oh this won't do, I think you need some more advanced methods." Reagan murmurs, enjoying the look on your face as she steps back and out of your line of vision, holding back laughter as you whine and make confused tones, wondering why she stopped when she had finally gotten to the good part. "Easy now, just a moment, you can be patient for me, can't you?"

- "Yes, Doctor." She whips her head around and drops the tool in her hand, and you're worried for a second she didn't like you saying that but she arrives moments later with a silicone dick and a small vibrator in hand, accompanied by a sly grin. "Doctor, hm? We're keeping that." she states as she sets the items in her hands down beside you on the flat table, now away from your sight before you could see any of the specific characteristics or facets.

- You squirm again, chills from the exposed air finally overriding the pleasure in your veins and cooling your body. Reagan tuts at that, smoothing her dry glove up your thigh in an attempt to warm you up, "phrase?" she asks, gentle and present as she looks at you. "Prism." she smiles and nods before her expression shifts, popping the cap off a bottle of lube and warming it between her hands as she looks you over, a small smile emerging once she spots your cunt, clenching around nothing from the show she put on of her rubbing her palms together with her exposed forearms rippling.

- "Ready for me?" she asks, adjusting her gloves and then sucking off the slick residue from her one hand, purposely staring you down as she does it with intent. "Always, Doctor." a shudder that she fails to try and hide rolls through her spine at that, not fully used to you ever calling her that, especially when you're bare and at her mercy.

- "good answer." Reagan responds, lubing up the silicone and sliding it through your folds slowly, watching as you tense and begin to grind. Her hand plants your hip down still, forcing it to stop as she fixes you a warning look while she props the dick near your cunt.

- Sliding it in, she sinks the silicone dick deep into you and watches as your cunt takes it in, noting aloud how the gloves prepped you better than what she does manually glove-free. Keening out, you force yourself still and feel her hand move to instead grip your hip instead of planting it still, guiding you along in a tempo that matches the ministrations of her other hand, fucking the fake dick into you over and over slowly, picking up the pace gradually.

- "That seems to be treating you better. You agree?" barely managing a nod, you respond with a grunting moan as she angles the silicone against a spot of nerves, making you jolt and gasp. "I'll take that as a yes." Reagan jokingly responds to herself, reaching the hand once on your hip to reach away and grab the vibrator, eager to get your pent-up self breaking and shattering like glass.

- You don't realize what's happening, too blissfully unaware due to how she continues flicking her wrist, rocking the dick into you at a pace that builds tension but doesn't get that knot of pleasure unraveling at all. When the vibrator comes to life and thrums in her hand, your head whips up in that instant Pavlovian response, knowing she's about to make you see God.

- "Holy fuck please use that thing on me." you blurt out immediately, drawing a laugh from her that's dark while she fixes you a warning look, a brow raised and you rush to find your words. "Please, Doctor." Reagan hums, pleased, and then reaches down to plant the vibrator on your clit, rolling it in circles and shapes that make your legs struggle against the stirrup-like straps, body wriggling and squirming as it tries to get comfortable to handle getting fucked this way.

- "Well would you look at that, pretty damn effective." She muses, upping the vibrator speed casually with one hand as the other splits you open on the silicone cock with ease. "Next time we're going to have to test this with having both of your holes filled, probably get you squirting in minutes."

- The idea alone that she planted like a seedling in your head blooms, making you even more turned on if possible. The way the dick nestled the spots inside that already got you seeing stars? Multiplying the effect. And now the vibrator rolling over your clit and thrumming incredibly sends you over the edge, barely able to warn her coherently before you cum with a squealing moan.

- "Fucking gorgeous," Reagan marvels, fucking you through it and lowering the setting on the vibrator, still keeping it there but rolling it in softer, smoother motions while she gently fucks the dick into you, working through an orgasm that she manages to draw out for roughly a minute or so. "So goddamn pretty like this."

- She keeps going for a while until your legs stop shaking, then she removes the toys from you and moves about, undoing the straps and stirrups holding you then grabbing a nearby blanket and wrapping you up in it. You sit up and scoot over to the side of the table, legs hanging off as Reagan stands before you, smoothing your hair back and checking you over.

- She busies herself with rolling her fingers over the slightly indented marks where the straps were, double checking to make sure you were okay but she doesn't catch your adoring, sleepy look until you tap at her arm and then raise your hand to lift her chin, beaming dazedly at her. "Hi Reagan." you murmur, pressing kisses to her cheek and jaw lazily.

- "Hello yourself, feeling okay?" she asks, amusement in her tone as she looks you over, making sure you're fully covered in the blanket and warm, trying to prevent you from getting overly cold.

- You giggle and look up at her, grinning wide and honest, "I could not be any fucking better than I am right now, now gimme' a kiss." Reagan obliges, and everything fades as it always does around her, in the best and most comforting blur.

Brett Hand: FRANKENSTEIN’S MONSTER

• song: Body - Mother Mother or My Boy Builds Coffins - Florence + The Machine

- Brett wishes he could manage to carve a place for himself in your life and at your side with as much ease as he has with loving you, completely enthralled and enamored with everything you are, all that you’ve been, and all that you’ll be. He’s fascinated by you and the intricacies in your movements and routines, the way your brows furrow when confused or frustrated, the smile you don’t show unless you’re caught by surprise and unable to remember hiding it.

- He gathers these little facets of yourself like river rocks and stones, wearing them down in the revisits of his memory, rolling them flat and small but soft in the way he reveres them. If only you loved him like he loved you. If only you actually knew him, not just of him. You’ve met before, known of each other practically since his initial creation. Yet he’s not satisfied because he doesn’t know what it’s like to be with you, only knowing you at the arms reach that he has from you helping him and fixing him up.

- You’re an assistant to his father, his creator, an up-and-coming scientist fascinated with his methods in Reanimation and modern-age necromancy, hoping to study his techniques and model some of his talents with your own. His father, Dr. Quentin Hand, made all of his siblings as initial creations and had Brett last, the youngest and most rushed one of the collection. He was an accumulation of spare parts, the battered bits left in the barrel, a literal representation of what comes from patchwork scientific craft and lacking interest. That’s not to say you didn’t treat him kindly or matched his father's lack of enthusiasm.

- No, you treated him carefully, just like the rest of his siblings. You gave him extra attention and care, sewing back on fingers should they get snagged and fall off his hand, making a few jokes all the while you thread the needle and fish it in and out of his flesh about how his hand’s should be better taken care of, especially since it’s his last name.

- his heart was monitored and he prayed you hadn’t caught the speeding up of the pace, the rapid ba-bum ba-bum ba-bum of his pre-owned heart firing off in awe of you and your presence. If you did, you don’t mention it and you just continue hemming and stitching him back together, returning his ring finger back onto his left hand with care, humming all the while some song stuck in the back of your head.

- “there,” you nearly startle him, pulling him from his reverie with a pat to his knee as you sit up from your chair and clean up, putting your supplies away and disinfecting, “all fixed. Let me know if there’s any trouble with your seams again and I’ll patch you up — no sweat.” His eyes, one hazel and the other bright blue, peer up at you with nothing short of pure adoration. It’s always there, poor boy can’t do anything to hide it. He just loves you is all.

- "Thank you, I'm sorry you have to always fix me up all the time." Brett states, rubbing his arm subconsciously, truly meaning it and knowing it had to be at least a little redundant to mend him after every trip and fall or tumble down the steps. Poor thing had no balance, something you try to work on in your spare time between projects and lessons with Brett's father. You turn, taking your gloves off and disposing of them while looking his way, a sad frown on your face making his dissipate like smoke. "Why are you sorry for that? It's not something you can help, sweet boy, and besides --" you trail off while stepping near him and fixing his hair and looking down at his still-sitting form, "I'm happy to help you, its what I'm here for!"

- and with that, you depart, heading to another appointment to experiment under supervision, He dreads the days that come forward now, nearing when you would be leaving since your education under the apprenticeship of his father ends to a close. You'd be gone, with your own experiments and helpers, a life completely devoid of him. he likes to think you'd write him or call, maybe see his name scrawled in your looping cursive handwriting and hear your words drawn across a page and yearn to find your love within them.

- but even he, Brett, a lovesick optimist knows that would be too good to be true. Within the month, you'd pack and leave and the spanning acres of his family's estate would be empty of your presence. Your quarters would miss your belongings, the posters, and art on the walls, the little personal items and books littered about. It would be as if you were never there, but to Brett, he would always remember you being there. He may have been reanimated, but the days where you roamed the halls and came across his sight were the only days he felt truly alive.

- Little did he know that you had been planning your departure for years and hoped you would go about it, what exactly you would leave or sell, what you would pack, how you would pack, and who you would take with you. "Dr. Hand, I have a request," you start, making casual conversation while you've currently got your forearms embedded in a cadaver's inner organs, organizing things, "I was wondering if I could take one of the experiments with me when I leave early this week?"

- Doctor Quentin Hand is no meek creature, nor does his stature indicate such. he was almost frighteningly tall, but with age has developed a slight hunching slouch making him roughly 6'5 with the rugby player's stature. The man is thick and bulky, with a head full of auburn hair turning grey and the shade of sunned strands with his age. "Depends on which of the creations you'd call to you, and if they'd like to go. The eldest are off limits, but should one of the children agree, you are free to take them. But only one."

- he is currently invested in combining chemicals to inject within the bloodstream when reanimation is to take place later, and luckily so. He misses your entire face light up, beaming from ear to ear behind your surgical mask and eyes glowing with excitement. "I've already decided who I'd like to bring with me."

-"Oh?" he doesn't even turn, swirling an open beaker that smells of disinfectant and acid, "who?". Dr. Hand shows no concern and even that worries you, knowing there was little love shown to the creations, and none whatsoever to your favorite. "I was planning to take Brett, the youngest of them."

-He waves a gloved hand and nods, "Of course, pack his things if he hasn't already. Be sure to invest in a lot of sutures and sewing materials as well, you will definitely need it." if you didn't need this formal apprenticeship, you would've killed him with his own reanimating equipment. "Yes sir."

- later, when you have cleaned up, changed, and wrapped up the experiment which once again went as a success, you settle down in your room and continue backing up your personal belongings into extra bags and suitcases for the items you gathered in your time here. A record plays, crackling initially but still pouring out the cadence of the Lungs album from Florence + The Machine as you wander about, clearing your shelves and delicately folding posters and emptying the walls.

- just as you flip over the vinyl to the b side, a knock rattles against your door. When you open it, you didn't expect Brett's tear-stained face to be the first thing you see. Nor did you expect him to rush and hug you, drawing you into his form and holding you close while he buries his head in your shoulder. "Why do you have to leave?"

- You think it's cruel, but it was always going to be a surprise for you to take him with you. The feelings were obvious and only reciprocated a few months ago. Sadly, you couldn't act on them until you got out from under the eyes of Doctor Quentin for Brett's sake and safety. But now that's not a worry, and you leave after breakfast tomorrow morning with the patchwork babydoll of a man before you.

- The sight enough is heartbreaking, especially with the direct feel of his tremors shaking through him, and then through you with the closeness. It takes several attempts to ease his cries and pry him up from your shoulder, stepping back to close the door behind him then flicking the lock shut before you cup his cheek and lift his head upwards. "Brett, sweetheart, how could you think I'd leave without you?" you soothe, thumbs rolling over his cheek and swiping tears away. "I wanted to surprise you but I think you need to hear it now, I'm taking you with me. I was never going to leave without you in the first place."

- Brett blinks blearily, wiping the tears from his multicolored eyes to stare at you openly and dart his gaze between your own eyes. "You're serious?" he asks, still buried in disbelief, "why would you want to take me, you barely even like me." Brett's met with laughter, not caustic or harsh and at his expense like what he's used to, yours is lighthearted and kind, just like your eyes. "Sweetheart, I care for you a great deal beyond just liking you." you say, taking his hands in yours, the ones you've constantly tended to like the rest of him.

- "What does that mean?" Brett asks, squeezing your hands tight and finding it impossible to look anywhere in the room besides your face. "It means I love you, silly thing, and I refuse to let you stay here any longer when you deserve the world. Let me show it to you." His tears reappear again but its relief, the feeling that swarms his body and makes him feel shrouded in Moonglow. You care for him, you love him, that his years of pining after you and hoping, praying for a miracle were worth it. You loved him, your silly ragdoll.

- "Say it again." he says, his hands moving from yours to your waist, brushing the bare skin where your shirt has ridden up with ease, aching to feel more of your warm skin in his palms. "I love you Brett." you murmur, forehead pressed to his as you press your palms to his chest, fingertips tracing the material of his henley while humming in a pleased tone once his hands begin to wander.

- "One more time." he whispers as he leans forward to catch your lips with his, admiring how your eyes flutter shut when he does. You kiss, lips shifting back and forth as you murmur how you loved him into his open mouth like a secret, and he'd cherish and protect it as such. Brett pulls back, palms cupping your warm cheeks just as you had previously with tender grace and you spot his tears have ended.

- "I will never let you down," he promises, smile bright and crooked, perfectly him and equally as charming, "I swear, you'll never regret this, never." and you know its the truth, not because he says it but because you've known for ages that there was no one else you'd care for this much. As if he was made solely for you, perfectly patchworked together.

- In an act of bravery or stupidity, you grab his hand and step backward towards your still-made bed, peering up at him from lidded eyes. "I know that, but how about you show me just how much you love me right here, hm?" you tease, loving how his mouth fell agape and his arms fled to your waist again, eagerness steeped into his actions like tea. "Can I?" brett asks, always the soft, chivalrous, perfect man. "Absolutely." you respond, already ushering out of the shirt and baring your chest to his hungry, heterochromial eyes.

- he spares no time in crowding you against the bed, climbing atop your languid form and pressing doting kisses at your lips then making his way down to your neck, eagerly leaving hickeys and marks while he undoes your belt and shucks your pants down. He bares your underwear to him and leaves you to kick off your socks with your pants, making a pile on your rug you don't mind at all. "Can I taste you?" he practically pleads, lifting up to stare down at you, beating you to the question you were just about to ask him, making you laugh once more, still that lighthearted sweet sound. "Maybe later, and then ill be able to suck you off. Right now I just want you in me, Brett. That okay?"

- he's torn between crying, busting a load in his jeans, or both. Brett just nods, lip tugged between his teeth and moving with all the enthusiasm of a hyperactive puppy, kneeling on the floor to help you slide off your underwear and nearly drooling the second he spots your bare cunt. He's running on more basic, bare instincts but wants nothing more than to flood your cunt with his cum and keep it there, keep himself there as long as he can. Never wants to leave you, and he never wants the marks and signs of him on you to fade either.

- "are you-" "yes I'm sure Brett, now can you please take your clothes off so I can ride you?" he nearly trips over himself in the process of standing and yanking off his shirt, which he does in that hot lift it from the back of the neck and tug it forward trademark style that has a new layer of slick pool forth. His jeans are mid-rise but are slung low, boxers peaking out briefly before he abandons those too, revealing one appendage you never had to mend. You're a bit glad, you ended up with a surprise too tonight, who would've thought?

- Brett returns, not knowing where to sit or lay until you shove him back to sit against the pillows upright, allowing you to sit on his lap and lay your arms over his shoulders while hovering, teasing before you to be gifted this man's virginity just like you were given his heart and soul. "You sure, baby?" you murmur, knees outside of his own and pressed chest to chest, "I can wait however long you need to." Brett grins, playful and teasing in his own way, and nips at your lip. "I'm okay, m'good, cant wait t'see what it feels like to be buried in you, probably even warmer than you feel right now." He emphasizes with a large and running up your bare spine, sending you arching and your knees threatening to buckle. You sometimes forget how big he is, and with the hefty dick bobbing near his stomach, you're not sure how you could have ever forgotten.

- "Take me then, babydoll" and he does, large hands encompassing your hips as he guides you to sit on his dick, slowly letting it enter and let you get accustomed, "there you go, nice and - fucking tight" Brett murmurs, voice deeper and getting you more riled up than you know what to do with. You had seen him bare plenty of times, but never fully, and the experience was doing you wonders right now as you rested for a moment and let him breathe before you started bouncing on him and making him cum way earlier than you know he'd like. You'd enjoy it anyway.

- He whines after a few moments, his hips shifting and making you both groan, his head falling back into the pillows and his fair falling into disarray, strands of auburn and reddish brown falling into his forehead. "Please, just fuck me, have me I just need you." Brett whines into your neck again, no tears this time as his arms wrap tautly around your form, allowing you to feel divinely sculpted muscles hold you tight and made your walls clench, relishing in his squeaking moan. You'd break him. good thing you know how to put him back together. "Easy baby, I've got you." you murmur, smoothing back his hair before you lower to your haunches and lift your hips, slamming back down and sending him yelling your name while biting his teeth into your shoulder.

- Oh yes, you were absolutely going to break him.

- You fuck yourself on him, feeling his hands grip and drag across your body as you use him, rolling your hips in shapes, occasionally spelling his name out through your gyrations and smiling to yourself as you watch him fall further and further into a mess, hair mussed, mouth agape and eyes tight shut. The skin of his lip is nearly broken open from how much he's bitten and tugged on it, puffy and reddened on his flushed and freckled face. Brett rises and clings back onto you, suddenly shifting his hips and fucking up into you, letting you hear louder slaps of skin against skin while he manhandles you. "M'gonna' cum, gotta' cum can I please cum — I wanna cum so bad, please." he begs, planting kisses at your collarbone and pulse sporadically between broken moans and pants.

- You never expected the reaction nor your own, unable to fight the feeling emanating from your soaked and silken cunt as he fucks up into it, stretching you wide in a way you'll never be tired of. "You can cum, go on and fill me, Brett, wanna' feel you for days. Please Brett, make me feel good." your boy delivers, jackhammering into you and making you cry out, tugging at his hair while his hands plant themselves at your waist in order to maneuver you around, biting deep at your shoulder when he cums with a broken, shattered shout of your name.

- The way his hips stutter in that frantic pattern, battering your cunt that has you squirming and grinding, you cum rapidly and heavily, whiting out and feeling your surroundings blur to nothing as you repeat his name over and over, clawing down his back as he slows and finally stops, holding you impossibly close. You take longer than he does recover and return to the world, head lolled back and breathing heavy, allowing brett to lay the two of you down and upon the pillows, wrestling the comfort and sheets over your sweat-slicked body and his.

- He always wanted to be a part of your life, and now, years later, he can't stop smiling and hasn't stopped since. Your silly, smiling ragdoll of a husband.

Andre Lee: W E R E WO L F

• song: Howlin’ for You - The Black Keys

- Andre was superficially open, not talking of more intimate aspects of his life but being carelessly free with the rest, and the personal factoids and tidbits emerge in passing comments in conversation send your brain whirling.

- he’s never answered any of your questions as to why he avoids full moons or why he’s unreachable during some times of the month, closest you’ve gotten was Myc cracking a joke about menstruation but you know damn well from a fuck ton of personal experience that he’s absolutely packing heat.

- he’d been sick the past few days, not fully present in meetings and a bit light headed. It got shrugged off as side effects from any number of drugs but you knew better. The disregard and dismissals that came from him when you showed concern were what made that worry and concern grow, manifesting and sprawling into a thorny expanse of knots tugging at your conscious, fixated on helping him.

- so you stand before an older home, 1920’s brick masonry hidden behind modern day paint, sidled beside the other brownstones on the block and fish out your key on the chain he gifted you, a little cartoonish duck smiling brightly while flipping you off, and turn the series of locks in the door while balancing some takeout on the other side.

- after several moments, you make it inside and lock back up, setting your keys alongside Andre’s in the bowl near the door and spotting the matching fuck duck keychain and smiling before making your way through the house, easily navigating through the darkness and making it to the kitchen to drop off some takeout for the egg drop soup he always ordered when sick. “Andre?” You get no response, the house quiet and your brows furrow while your lips purse, that worry unfolding again, “sugar? Where are you?” You get no response and your words echo in the house

- you get no response but you hear a groan, muffled and heady, soft and barely heard. But it’s his, and you drop everything in your hands upon the counter and follow the sound, brain a slurry of what ifs and remembering his medical history should you need it. By the time you make it back further in the house and to his bedroom, the doors locked shut. Real shut. You knock harshly and call to him, voice a bit desperate “Andre honey, you okay?”

- “go away.” It’s him, but not, deeper and meaner that the Andre you’re used to. It’s not a deterrent. “Not if you’re not okay, let me in.” You try the doorknob again and he shouts out “it’s not safe for you right now, go away.” He says more but you don’t hear it through the door. “What do you mean it’s not safe, Andre let me in.” you cry back, banging the side of a fist against the door, beating it loudly trying to persuade him to let you in. Probably not the most convincing manner.

- “GO! You’re not supposed to be here, m’gonna hurt you.” confusion could not even begin to explain what was going through your head, throat taut with fear, “Andre, I could give a fuck, I’m not leaving you like this.” He’s pleading in a sad rage, like a storm with no lightning, all thunder, “I don’t want t’hurt you, please, please just go.” You refuse, and say the same before you break the lock on the door then try and come in, not getting through until you back up and ram a shoulder into it once, twice, finally busting it on the third impact.

- he had warned you for good reason, and the yellow eyes that meet your gaze from a huddled, shadowed corner solidify that. “Should’ve run.” comes murky from him, his mouth moving oddly and you realize with horror he’s not in his regular body. It’s a larger, hulking form of shaggy fur in muted brown and chestnut hues, dusted with black and grey into a slurry of fur. A fucking wolfman was not on your list. “Werewolf?”

- “Yeah.”

- “Considering our jobs — this isn’t all too horrifying.” He bares his teeth, canines glinting, “I take that back — somewhat.” Andre chuckles, darker but remains curled in on himself in the corner of the room, staying far away from you. “Why am I not supposed to be here sugar?” You ask softly, stepping hesitantly further into the room and eyeing him warily, unsure about the entirety of this situation and wishing Elliot fucking Mothman had better-prepped staff for other forms of cryptids.

- “‘cause I’ll fuck y’ and I won’t stop.” He growls out, nails digging into knees bare of clothing and covered in fur, “not safe f’you, I could hurt you.” He doesn’t meet your eyes this time, eyes turned away and trying to shrink as far as possible into the corner, wanting to keep you at bay before his senses and instincts took over and took you. Andre doesn’t see you, but he feels you in the room. The way you smell and he puffs of breath, the thud of your heart.

- so he immediately clocks the second your pulse races at his words and how your heart flutters, along with your cunt. Andres eyes snap back to you just in time to see a shy but sensual smile on your lips. “What if I want you to hurt me?” Is what he hears from your lips, and he forces himself to sit still, ignore the erection against his thigh and the urge to fuck you until your womb got stuffed to the brim and he got you knocked up. “You better mean that.”

- “oh,” you strip yourself of your shirt and other clothes swiftly, like a subtle strip tease but far smoother and graceful than anticipated, “I mean it. Show me how much you love me sugar, I can take it.” You walk over to the bed on the other side of the room, curling up against the pillows and grin, spreading your legs and exposing the entirety of yourself, eager to mark off this box on your sexlist checklist. “Fucking better.” Is what Andre responds with, rising slowly and missing the tall ceiling by merely a foot, taking his gangly form towards the bed and closing his eyes, sniffing visibly and having his body falter, your scent encompassing any logic he had left.

- “look at that,” he chitters, teeth making his grin a bit more daunting, “already spread for me. Cute. Now turn around.” Andre orders, lurking before the bed as you shift, resting on your folded forearms and raising your ass in the air. “Good,” he praises, a hand grazing your arched waist while he settles behind you, “couldn’t follow orders earlier, but that’s just because you were worried, hm? Going to be good f’me now. I know it.” Andre settles himself on his knees behind you, arms planted on either side of your torso and he leans atop you, breath fanning your ear as he teases you, makes the eager nerves alight as goosebumps trail across your bare, vulnerable form.

- “gonna’ let me fuck you? Let me bury my cock in your pretty cunt over and over until there’s nothing left in you but me?” He muses, erection tapping at your ass and feeling much heavier than what you’re used to. You hum, trusting him to take care of you and fuck you right. “Mhm, let you stuff me like a fuckin’ brood mare, now please, c’mon and fuck me Andre.” He swats your ass with his hand, watching the fat of it jiggle and your waist bend high, “don’t have to tell me twice.”

- You bite back a few comments the second he brushes his flared, sloped cockhead into the opening of your cunt, the tip alone bringing a stretch of pain. Burying your head in the pillows around your forearms, you mewl and whimper aloud tossing both your head and your ass back. Andre’s one hand is beside your torso to plant himself while the other is on your hip, guiding your hips back towards him so he can slowly enter and sink his cock into you. "Atta' babe" he croons, breath fanning across your back in a way that makes your spine tingle.

- He lets out a whine that huffs hot air across your spine, sinking in his cock as much as your cunt can fit, several inches still untended to between where the two of you meet. His balls brush your clit when he bottoms out, and he stills, Andre's restless lungs beating his chest into your back and you can feel him through and through. "Fuck, tight little cunt, gonna' fucking break it." Andre groans low and heady as he begins to rock back and forth, in a humping motion that sends his balls smacking into your clit with little pats, making you grateful a hand now plays underside and holds your belly while the other holds him up, your body on the precipice of collapse with the angle, the feeling, all of it.

- "fucking stuff me," you blurt, pathetically trying to rock your hips back into his and you cry out each time, bulbous cockhead nudging your cervix with each shift, feeling him in your guts, "breed me full, knock me up." These were words you had used previously during sex with him, the concept not being new, only to the situation at hand. With Andre being fueled by rampant urges and instincts, barely holding on, your words were like an on-switch that sends him immediately pressing you into the bed and snapping his hips roughly, snarling. into the skin of your neck like he's on a mission, and in a way, he is. Meant to mate.

- "ah, oh fuck, Andre." you keep crying out his name between crying out incoherencies, encompassed by the way he absolutely fucked the breath from your lungs, knocking everything out of you and then drawing it back in just as he slots in, and out of your drenched, dripping cunt, slick now sprawling from his dick and balls, your thighs, to the torn and tossed sheets beneath. There's a fleeting, barely conscious thought of now knowing why sex was called the beast with two backs, the words of Othello never even a full thought as you get plowed from behind.

- oh yeah, you were never going to leave him to deal with a full moon alone, not if this is what your good deeds and diligence get you - being bent over like a broodmare and fucked like it's a need to survive, to breathe. You are livin' good.

- "taking me so damn well, gonna' pump you full, fill you over and over until others no space inside that I haven't covered." he rambles, hurried and frenzied and deep in pitch, snapping his hips rapidly as the sound of skin slapping melts into a blur with the heavy pants and breaths, the snarls and moans and groans the two of you let out, animalistic and primal, fucking elite and top tier in your honest, raw-dogged opinion. "Gonna' give you a child, claim this fucking pussy, all of it, s'all mine."

- You groan out, burying your head in your forearms and feeling his weight atop you, the way he keeps bullying his giant dick into you and fucking you apart, working you like dough in the way he works you over. "Like that? Like me marking you up, being Andre's breeding bitch?" he snarls, sounding so potent in your ear where his head hovers, splayed across your back while his hips do the work.

-"Just feel that," he murmurs, hand pressing into the fat of your belly to press against where he thrusts into you, making you squeal into the pillows as he shows off, his demeanor so contrasting than how he usually is, even in a raging fuck, "gonna' fill you to the brim, baby, already stretching you wide. Belly full of me."

- "God, please — fuck," you're babbling, fucked out and quote literally drooling upon your forearms and the pillows holding your head up, as backing into his thrusts and mewling with the brush of his balls against your clit, everything wet and sloppy, "wanna' be bred, wanna' be yours — I wanna' be yours." Andre lets out snarling laughs, darker than abyssal skies, into your shoulder blades which he litters with nips and bites of sharp teeth, little pinpricks adding to the utter euphoria of getting absolutely pounded.

- "gonna cum, arent'ya?" he drawls, leaning to huff through his nose near your ear and you smell him, sex and musk and earthy amber, you wanna drown in it. "Go on, soak this cock so I can fuck you stupid." It takes a few thrusts later, but you do and you absolutely blackout, the world turning into a white canvas that slowly lifts as you feel Andre fucking into you, pace hurried and faltering as he babbles rapidly, stitching together curses and praise like an ornamental garland.

- Cum is absolutely pouring at that point, rivulets stuck in smears across your ass and thighs, drenching his balls and making them smack wetly against the mouth of your cunt. He's come already at least twice by the load of it and is working on a third orgasm that makes your ass ripple with the force behind his thrusts. "All mine, no one gets to see this, have this, my pretty mate." he's talking to just himself at this point, assuring insecurities while nearly fucking you through the mattress, hell it's a miracle the bedframe hasn't broken. Or the wall.

- You whimper and moan weakly, just taking it at this point because all you feel in your bones is the warmth of orgasmic bliss, full lethargy and no intent to move, feeling so sated and tender than you could simply pass away with a beaming, I just had sex grin that would out do anyone else's, besides Andre's. What plucks the strings of reality a bit is a moment his teeth latch onto your shoulder, marking rows of teeth into a bite marking you as his. He fucks you through it, coming with a shout of your name that is more of a gravelly howl than anything, cum literally flooding your cunt and dripping down everywhere, making a mess of everything.

- Andre's near whimpering, fucking into you weakly while his erection softens inside you, laying on top of your form before wrapping his arms around and having you both shift onto your sides, him spooning your considerably smaller form in his considerably sized state, completely enveloping you in his hold, warmth, and love, soothing your fucked-out and pumped-full state onto the precipice of slumber.

- "M'love you." he mutters into your neck, nuzzling against your pulse as his arms coil around your belly, ensuring you stay in his arms and snug around his dick, "love you too." is what you reply, sounding not like your own voice in the exhausted, airy lilt. It's the last thing you remember before being woken up in the morning to an apologetic and scruffy Andre, back to normal with a plate of breakfast in hand.

- "Andre, honey, we are definitely going to be doing that again."

Robotus Alpha-Beta: D E M O N

• songs: Devil’s Advocate - The Neighborhood or Have A Cigar - Pink Floyd

• fanart: by @olexxx right here

- you’re desperate, and tired of calling after things in the light and day that don’t answer. You now call out for and beg for something from the night, standing in the crossroads with a box of offerings in your hands and a plea so heavy on your tongue it weighs you down like an anchor to a boat, dividing the seas currents in cleaverlike strokes. Crying out into the night, screaming for an answer, yelling out that you’ve done the right things brought the right stuff, made the right calls, you’re frustrated and distressed in the middle of this night, clad in clothing that the wind whips around your form, slinky against your chest and thighs. You’re a vision of desperation in this witching hour, and who would he be to deny your broken-hearted, bargaining pleas?

- “mighty pathetic looking, aren’t you, pretty thing.” He strolls out from the tree line, hands in his pockets of the seersucker suit he wears, hiding his eyes in the shadows while he meanders his way over dirt path and dandelions, plants dying in the markers where his footprints lay. “Pray tell, what brings you to my spacious lay of the woods?” He drones, and you’re too consumed in your own ordeals to fully analyze his appearance and demeanor, ready to bargain and barter down to the bones should it go that far.

- “I just wanna’ deal. That’s all.” You start, laying the tin box down on the ground between the two of you where you stand in the clay dirt and ash of the crossroad, pitch black sans the one flickering, sad looking streetlamp. “What will you take for sparing someone’s life?” Is what comes from your lips next, and he’s almost surprised at the dedication you show in selflessness, musing to himself in the ongoing internal dialogue that you should get one of those flimsy gold stars.

- “Depends on a lot my dear,” the demon drawls, hands gesturing in a manner that reminds you of evangelical television preachers or cable game show hosts, “who am I curing and what ails your beloved patient?” He picks the dirt from his fingernails and you wish you pry out the nails from that tin box you got from a coffin, and force them one by one into his skull for his nonchalance, his disinterest in a deal that meant more than the world to you.

- “my friend, she’s sick. Cancer. I want her cured and for her to live a healthy life and die naturally of old age. What will you accept in exchange?” You’re direct, straight and to the point, shoulders squared and eyes flint and steel, fire flickering in the shards of your irises. Refusing to let him abuse a loophole, you’ve stressed every requirement and plan — ramming the nails in straight. “Straight to the point, I like that.” He drawls, crooked grin smarmy and slimy in the snake oil style, making you envision car dealerships and the price is right but shrouded in brimstone and fire. “The question isn’t what I’ll ask of you, but what you’re willing to offer, dear.”

- he claps his hands together, a MontBlanc pen appearing in his hand and a weathered paper, looking older than your entire bloodline in the way it looks like if the wind blew a fraction harsher, it’d disintegrate. “Alright pet, lay your offers on the table and I’ll see what I’ll accept — but remember,” the demon before you with sky blue eyes pauses, looking like a walking business advert with his suit and tie, shiny cufflinks and a glittering Patek Philippe watch, “no promises.”

- you bite back the myriad of things you’d like to say to this bastard in human flesh-trimmings, but you need your friend more than anything. She’s your world. You’d give your own up for her, and you plan to do exactly that. “My entire self —“ he raises his brows, lips splitting into an amused grin and attempts to interrupt, but you wave a hand and fix him a look, the don’t fuck with me while I’m talking stare, “for part of the week, for the rest of my natural, long and healthy life. You’ll get Tuesday through Thursday, and I will be free to do what I wish the remainder of the week, every week. Sans holidays which I get to myself.”

- he’s still smiling as if it’s within the job application but looks about as pained as if he’s suddenly contracted a bout of irritable bowel syndrome. “And you’re completely mine the entirety of those three days, the full 72 hours?” You nod, face as polished as stone, equally as cold and ungiving. Hes never encountered a wayward soul like yours. Intrigue mars his mind more that he’d care to admit, but it makes the results of bartering so much better. “We have a deal then.”

- he scrawls in loopy old fashioned cursive, slanted and sloped in a manner that reminds you of history class, and fills in the blanks of his document signing your life away to him. He flattens the paper, then signs it himself and hands it to you to sign as well. You spot the larger A and B initials, shortened to AB, but can’t make out the last name, only the large R and the mussed squiggles behind it. Doctorish scrawl, hasty and impatient.

- you sign your signature and life away, not regretting it the instant you get a series of texts from your friend, her energy and liveliness returning in an instant. You pocket your phone then get dragged forward by the elbows, calloused fingertips and softened palms cup your cheeks before drawing you into a fleeting kiss. He pulls away and before you can act, he vanishes in a cloud of ash and dust, the contract within your grip and an emptied tin box at your feet. A kiss to seal the deal.

- you don’t see him until the next week, spending your time with your loved ones and with your best friend, cherishing and relishing in how she’s safe and healthy again and she would always be. The chime of reality rings twelve times, the man appearing in a click of loafers against the tile floors outside your apartment and wraps of his knuckles against the front door, coming to collect you. You’re alone and have been, making sure to be in the comfort of solitude once your first day as a demon’s bitch begins. AB opens the door and strolls in, hands in the pockets of some pinstripe slacks and a chain dangling from near his hand to a slim pocket on his suit vest, thin white stripes against navy fabric making his already tall form elongate.

- the demon struts in with the casual air of devil-may-care, eyes like a cats in how they’re languid but attentive, drawing everything in and sitting until something interesting pulls his direct attention forth. “Quite a home you’ve got here, just you?” AB muses, sauntering with the air of a spoiled house cat. “Yes, just me, now can we get on with whatever you have entailed for my next 72 hours, the suspense Y’know, got me absolutely hooked.” You respond, end of your sentence dripping in sarcasm like a freshly immersed pen nib into an inkwell and equally as dark.

- “impatient too, aren’t you just a bag of tricks,” he muses, lulling and faux cadence in a demon's silver tongue taste, “all in due time. Best to wait and see you squirm.” AB stands before a bookcase, fingertips tapping along spines of books then dusting over a picture frame with your friend, weary Polaroids paling in comparison to this snapshot of her and you several years ago, faces lit in the warmth of lanterns in summer sunset. He holds it longer than he’d deem appropriate, and he doesn’t seem to care or know why.

- “are you always this articulate or does it come with the Armani suit?” You snap, knee bouncing as you sit on the couch, lips chapped from how frequently you’ve gnawed on them in your nervous state, wanting to lose your sanity but unfortunately finding yourself incredibly lucid and stable. Against all odds. “Naturally, pretty thing, some creatures possess decorum and manners — I see you speak from inexperience.” He teases, setting the frame down and wiping his hands on his slacks, adjusting the cufflinks that glitter with initials laid in obsidian and platinum.

- He continues speaking, giving you no opening once more to speak or further deride the demon before you, meandering about your home as if he was not just showing the place, but was trying to sell it as a realtor and making the process as painfully personal as possible. "Do you have a tendency to get squeamish or easily frightened?" "I doubt it, due to how there's a demon I'm casually conversing with, so I'm going to have to say no."

- He chuckles darkly, and you see a glimmer in those glacier eyes of something far colder, and you mark it down for later. "Clever, but such a costly trait. Mind your tongue." You sit and take it in stride, having been braced for an overgrown petulant toddler playing around in daddy's suits. "Since you're being so patient," he mocks, he rolls his sleeves to the forearms after shucking off his jacket and snapping it away in a move that makes you think of hammerspace, "we'll get started. You are to shadow me as I go about dealing. Mind your tongue, presence, and entire demeanor. You are here to help me, gain insight on a modern human mind and soul, not to aid anyone but me due to how I control something far greater than your own life."

- He doesn't hesitate to gut you in the way you've been hung out to dry, hollowed like a side of beef swinging from a hook in a walk-in freezer, dripping onto a frozen floor in tandem with your bravado slipping. AB glances over your expression and smiles, childish and juvenile in a charming, redeemable fratboy sort of way. "Alrighty, now let's get you started."

- and with a snap of his fingers, the two of you began the first day of deals. It flew by, as they all would, you watching from the sidelines or removed from sight to watch as a deal went down. You could clock the bastards who were overly cocky, thinking they could outsmart someone so much older than them it was like the universe looking upon Earth's moon. Planet to sand grains. Pathetic - no match.

- the souls would fade one by one and you would spend your hours prior to the deal observing them from the outskirts in strangers behaviors, deception now a part of your ensemble in equal to your rings or shirt. "Did you observe me before we struck my deal?" you had asked later on in the duration of your servitude, roughly a year into your partial work weeks under the eye and lens of the demon. He laughed, a chiding yet lilting sound that resembled when storm clouds rumbled when the sun still shone, "Oh absolutely I did, my dear, quite entertaining and almost heartwrenching the way you went about your plans. Absolutely precious."

- AB speaks over his cocktail, Pappy Van Winkle bourbon dark and syrupy in the basin of his Waterford crystal glass, sliding about the thick ice cube like molasses, "I will say you have been the most entertaining of my companions in a long time." The way he says it lingers and you assume it's longer than you could perceive, centuries being seconds to the being beside you. It is a fleeting moment of wistfulness before he clocks his newest wayward soul and stalks forward, running a hand through his hair and barely messing his strands up, the greying streaks in his auburn hair falling upon his forehead like a staged motion, queued up to go for a movie scene.

- You tried not to watch more than you needed to when having to help him with his deals, but this time in the low light of a seedy corner alley bar, he glittered like the cufflinks he always wore. Dark obsidian and platinum, simple yet something so potent about it resembled him. If you hadn't sold your life away to the entity, he'd resemble a side character from American Psycho, far too charming to make it into the main role. It was harder to hate him than how he looked, the manner in which you dealt your days away gave you your friend back and a more stable life, albeit the hellish tasks.

- You didn't quite care for how much you cared for him, why you get enamored with him and all that he encompassed. It was disastrous and bordering a Stockholm syndrome, or at least that's what you told yourself when indulging in ice cream and childhood movies. What worsened your situation was an event that occurred in your off hours, out with friends and enjoying yourself in a night of freedom and levity. It went wrong, as you assumed it could, but had not expected the situation to unfold as it had nor the end result to your night.

- "I still don't understand, you crushing on your boss? Understandable, not doing shit about it, perplexes the fuck outta' me." Rory, a friend from high school mentions and brought a series of laughs from your booth at the club. "It's improper-" You're suddenly cut off. "Since when did you ever give a shit about proper?" another friend chimes in, and you sigh before downing the remnants of the drink before you. You get up, go to the bar to get a drink and avoid the terrible topic along with trying to escape the environment altogether. It's not your scene, too loud and overwhelming. It gets even worse after the initial sips of your drink when the world turns hazy and you don't know where you're going, nor whos leading you away.

- "Move them this way, out of the light - there, I told you no one was going to find us here." one of the two figures surrounding your hazy, barely conscious form voices, the other laughing along as they work at your shirt before a dark laugh comes from the opening of the alley, and a glint of polished silver meets the glare of a streetlamp. Its something out of a noir film but you're relieved when you hear his voice, trying to sit up and failing. His name falls from your lips, faint and sad sounding, and his glacier eyes melt away into a darkness never seen before even in the furthest of depths within the oceans.

- It takes no time for him to dispatch the two who had drugged you, the rage pouring off of him in waves you can almost see, even in your bleary state. It's as if someone coated your brain in a fog and dipped it in some liquid nitrogen. "Oh, pretty thing, what have they done to you." is what he says when he crouches near your form, bloodstained but almost holy, a savior without wings. You try and answer but he shushes you, lifting you into his arms securely with the strength beneath his tall, barrel-chested form. The two of you dissipate from the alley and leave behind blood trails no one will find, bodies gone as well to languish on hooks in rings of hellfire AB will personally see to.

- The next thing you recall after being saved up in his arms is waking in a bed far too luxurious to be your own, and enveloped in silky sheets and even silkier pajamas, deep navy blue wrapped around your form so comfortably you just snuggle back into the pillows before you fully wake to reality with a start, remembering what almost happened and sitting up, flying out of bed and wandering out to figure out where the fuck you were.

- "there you are, dear, feeling okay?" is what greats you, AB sitting at a couch reading from a book that once again looks more ancient than your entire bloodline, genuine concern feeding into his expression and making you blink, sleep still laden in your heavy eyelids begging you to go back to sleep. "You saved me." he shrugs off your comment, rising to meet your form in the doorway and taking you by the shoulders, trying to turn you around back into the bed you left. "Go on to bed, I'll bring you something-" he fixes you a look, "its an order, go rest. Your loved ones know you're safe and sound. Now, bed."

- You fall back asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow, and the next time you wake there's a change of clothes on a chair near the bed, a plate of food on the nightstand, and a pitcher of water with clean glasses readily available. In no rush, you take your time eating and then getting ready before padding barefoot out into the home you find yourself in, spotting AB finally in a kitchen you'd drool over in an issue of Architectural Digest. "There you are, rested?" you nod, cupping your glass of water in your hands and seating yourself down at a barstool beside the kitchen island, glancing around at the sprawling chef's kitchen, "they've been taken care of." AB trails off, in a casual button-down and slacks, leaning against the countertop with his arms crossed over his chest, taking a second before he looks over at you with steely, ice eyes.

- "No harm will ever come to you." your brows furrow at that, wondering why he would care so much about a person he literally owns. You voice it out loud and he guffaws, looking at you incredulously as if the answer was always there, and in a way, it had been. "Dear, you're mine. Contract bound and now, by design. No one ever lays a hand on you let alone exists a second afterwards." The glass in your hand is set down and you lean back in your chair, staring at him and wondering if the entirety of the past months of partnership you were not the lone one pining. He validates it when he approaches and falters, warming once you breach the gap and take his hand into your smaller one.

- You finally break, grasping for him and hugging him close as his bulkier form bends to hold you, knees bent in order to acclimate to your seated position. He rubs your back as you shudder and shake, warm broad hands soothing you down and facing you until he kneels and looks up at you. "I promise you, you're safe." and you want to say you believe him, but you still don't feel it, just take his hand off your knee and imbed it into your heart so he can feel how it beats, how the fear creeps into your lungs like an infection. there's no need, for he cups your cheek and tilts your chin to meet his gaze. Then it's over.

- the waiting ends, and he kisses you, tender and delicate and something so utterly unlike him that it takes you aback, almost slack-jawed for a millisecond before you realize it's him kissing you and you relish in it, grabbing him by the collar and dragging him closer until he's caged you in, safe from harm. He groans, and you part your legs at the sound, letting him fully press against you in the chair and wrap around you. "My pretty thing." AB groans against your lips, and you whimper at the sound of it so broken on his tongue, so different than the calculated and meticulous tone he took.

- "Prove it" is what flies from your lips as you bite his, feeling him grin darkly against your mouth as he lifts you into his, different from the bridal carry form the other night with how he hefts a handful of your ass into his palms while your legs wrap around his waist while he carries you into the other room. "Gladly." is whispered once he deposits you into a lavish dark bed, his own, and strips himself of his shirt and bares a chest scattered in auburn hair matching in grey streaks like his head, making you wonder about what lies lower.

- He doesn't make you wait long, and he strips himself of his boxers and pants, planting himself above you and grinning at how you observe his body and movements, letting you gasp in surprise once he lets a shudder roll through and some red markings reveal themselves, cuffs and bands of red marks paired with inscriptions of languages so old they outdated writing itself. You trace a few as he undresses you, mouth over them lavishly and kiss them tenderly, trying to show and give all the love you can to make up for what he's missed.

- "Never going to let anyone touch you," he murmurs, breathless against your skin as if he's the one rendered weak before you, "only mine, m'all yours. Gonna' keep you safe and sound." AB's wrecked already and he's hardly touched you let alone himself, the evidence leaking and resting heavily upon your now bare thigh. You feel not just safe and content, but powerful and hungry, greedy for what lies within arms reach. You get granted a freedom in his presence finally, and you take every step in stride.

- "All mine," purrs your voice in his ear, tugging on auburn locks and feeling your body thrum like musical cords when he groans low and deep, reverberating from a barrel chest that covers your form, "going to make me feel good? Treat me right, make a mess of me? Show me just how much you actually care and that I'll always be yours? Go ahead, AB, give me your all."

- "All?" he growls darkly against the column of your throat, nearly snarling if it wasn't for the pleased smirk present with teeth with slight points, "oh dearest, ask for more, don't you know I'd give you everything?" he murmurs low stripping you fully bare and letting rough and calloused palms from another lifetime's work wander your body, mapping out your skin like a cartographer. At that moment the words were euphoric enough, but his hips grinding against yours until he slotted against your weeping cunt was the emphasis to your already wavering body, the final blow to your grip on reality. Oh, what a plunge it was.

- AB rocks against you, forehead knelt down against your collarbone in a piousness akin to prayer and nudges his swollen cock against your cunt, hips grinding once, twice, before he slides into you and fills you. It's a stretch that makes you cry out, nails embedded in his skin near his markings as you whimper and cry out his name. Your chest squirms and your hips remain stilled, his broad hands encompassing your hips as he does so. With his head against your shoulder, he gets to see himself disappear into your slick-soaked pussy, and the sight is too moving for his eyes to handle. Thumbs bruise your hipbones while he stills then asks you questions he repeats several times before you process them, already hazy and fucked out and he hadn't even actually fucked you yet.

- "May I move?" your body reacted before you could even form a response, legs shifting so you can take him in deeper and fuck up back onto him, nearly squealing out as you feel him absolutely stuff your cunt, walls clenching and sending the both of you into a hurried frenzy. "There's your answer." you bite, literally and figuratively as your teeth sink into his ear. His hips stutter and you smirk, so proud of yourself before locking your legs and rolling him beneath you, still seated on his cock but now residing on top, beaming down at him with your hands planted on his marked, hair-covered chest.

- You don't even warn him before you slam your hips down, relishing in how he jolts and buckles, eyes shutting then opening back up, so torn between the feel of you and how you look, an angel of his own making seated above him and using him like a throne, getting yourself off and being nothing short of resplendent. AB thrusts his hips up to meet your grinds and ministrations, one hand splayed across your ribcage while the other snakes down to rub at your clit, beaming with pride when he feels you shudder and falter.

- "You're so pretty." comes broken from the demon beneath you, reduced to merely a man with the way you use him, treat him, love him and fuck him all at once, centuries worth of longing packed away emerging forth into glacier eyes now as warm as spring skies, and the look he gives you sends you over the edge as a crushing blow. He catches you, sitting up and wrapping his arms around you as the orgasmic, earth-shattering waves take you under. He anchors you, falteringly weak thrusts getting him to where you are in seconds, cumming and stuffing you full with a cracking groan against your heated flesh.

- He holds you, sitting upright with his arms wound around your torso and holding tight, hands splayed across your back and side as your head nestles into the crook of his, nose at his pulse and smelling hints of rosemary and bergamot and ash, and you burrow closer, wanting to sink into him like bed, he's more comforting than down comforters and pillows anyhow. It takes a while before the witness behind your eyes fades, his humming being what plucks you forth from an orgasmic abyss and you smile against his skin, soaking up the silence and him breaking it.

- "About that contract-" you joke, and AB laughs breathlessly before turning to you with a devious smirk, hands wandering and eliciting a squeaking moan from your lips, "I think I'd be open to renogiation." he murmurs, breath fanning across your mouth before your lips meet his and he hums, licking into your mouth and staking claim to it just as he had you.

Magic Myc: Z O M B I E

• song: Under My Skin - Jukebox The Ghost

- You'd been there when Myc's dead body got carted in. There were more people making jokes, cruelly grateful for his absence compared to the small group that actually missed him, and mourned him. And you were one of the very few who loved him enough to grieve his loss in such a manner it would even overpower the longing of the moon should it ever lose the sun and stars.

- He wasn't everyone's taste, hell, he was barely your taste. But you still loved him anyway and trying to work, eat, and live without him got harder and harder since he got eradicated from your life as swiftly as one strikes down a cleaver against a cutting board, final, irreversible. Permanent.

- You had thankfully been granted leave, getting enough pitying looks to send you to the comforts of home only to realize that home made it worse. All his things were there, little knickknacks and gag gifts Myc had gathered over the years, polaroids taped to the walls with glimpses of misadventures. One that gutted you the most was a picture of you, Andre, and Myc, the two of you smiling wide while Myc lifted the two of you up for the picture, all flipping off the camera and laughing like hyenas.

- Andre had been a rock of support, the two of you leaning on each other to cope and work through the loss, not knowing how to handle the loss, Andre losing a best friend and you losing a lover. It crushed you, the chasm of grief and depression consuming you whole, entangling your ankles and dragging you down in the depths like being snared in a siren's trap.

- the point where you broke down wholly and entirely, letting out ugly cries with the snot and tear tracks, getting puffy with reddened eyes in the freedom of your home. A formerly shared home is now all yours. The brownstone mocked you, once an inviting and fun space now too bright and whimsical to be fitting for one mourning a lover. A friend. A soulmate.

- in the midst of your breakdown and rattling full-body tremors, you don't hear the back door locks slowly turn one by one, the keys only belonging to one person, long dead. You don't hear something entering your home and locking back up, in the perfectly redundant routine that belonged to an everyday pattern. You don't hear Myc return into your life because you're too busy crying about him leaving it.

- "I leave for five seconds and you've already gone batshit - damn and I thought I had problems" his voice startles you, making you nearly fall off of the couch when you whip your head around to stare at him, eyes wide and mouth agape in disbelief. "You're not real." is the first thing you utter, terrified to move in case the illusion your grief-wracked mind conjured would dissipate and vanish, leaving you alone in your loss and the empty house, pathetic and sad enough to best a wet kitten.

- "You'd think that, but here I am, alive and unwell." Myc responds, sarcasm prominent but still an underlying fond tone only belonging to him comes out. It's rougher, dirtier almost in a backroad gravel kind of way like his vocal cords got tossed through a concrete mixer. "Gonna' say hello or what?" he teases, gesturing with a tendril or two and extending them, wanting a hug from his favorite person. You practically leap over the back of the couch in an effort to reach him, launching yourself into his body and nestling your head on the underside of the mushroom cap, feeling fanning gills brush the top of your head in addition to the bulbous partial veil that glows and humms against your head.

- He still smells like earth and musk, pollen and petals. and weed, and you've never been more relieved to smell the absolutely pungent aroma of weed in your life, laughing while you cry into where his neck would be. "You think I would just ditch you? No way, stuck with me for the rest of your little life, shitheel." Myc mutters, bumping your nose tenderly with a blunt nudge of a tendril, making your nose scrunch and a smile appear on your puffy, crying face.

- "wait, how are you even here?" you ask, leaning your head back enough to look at him in the dim light of your home, shadows cast over his form and hiding the majority of it sans little segments and divots of bioluminescence and ornate patterns. "You died Myc, how in the fuck are you even alive?"

- he doesn't immediately answer, and you step back to pace with a hand running down your face, immediately ranting and getting wrapped up in the concept of Cognito Inc. doing another stupid and silly science project without considering ramifications and wondering just how this will blow up once more when it concerns the love of your life, Myc.

- when he's remained silent, not saying a word in the midst of your rant about Reagan and how she's got to stop playing god, you realize he hasn't said a word and turn to find him standing very still and looking down to his tentacles as if in deep thought. Worrying, consuming, deep thought.

- "I-," he starts, moving to turn in your direction, almost looking past you, or through you, making your anger fade as concern takes over, "I don't know."

- You haven't been this worried in a long, long time. "Honey, what do you mean you don't know?" Your concern multiplies, swarming nervous moths within the cage of a chest you have, fluttering in your ribcage and making your bones itch. "Myc, do you remember getting here?".

- the uncharacteristic silence speaks enough volumes to have filled a home library, making you send a few hurried texts to the gang group chat and ignoring the silly contact names in lieu of finding a solution to this as fast as possible and trying to keep Myc stable. You turn and flick a lamp on, unable to find reason in the darkness, and barely stop the scream that almost fled your throat.

- "I just wanted to see you, I don't know how I got here-" he pauses, unaware of the terror in your eyes and the tears welling along the seams of your lower lids, threatening to overflow with the sight of him, "I just wanted you."

- You wish you were crying for other reasons beyond the sight of him, maybe even some happy tears with how he came to you because he loves you, dragged his undead self all the way to your backdoor to you.

- You cry instead at the state of him, the chunks of flesh and tissue missing, the greenish ghastly hue to his surface, tears and gouges in places where his body's mass would fill. He is dead. undead technically, and in your shared home's living room sounding close to tears himself with how confused he sounds and you're just about to break down at how butchered he looks. He is yours, and he was supposed to be fine always. Why did this happen, and why to your Myc.

- He says your name, and it is so broken it doesn't suit him. Myc's a jovial, mocking asshole that makes you feel loved, even with pet names accompanied by curse words and expletives. You respond to a few more texts and enlist the help of Reagan and ask Andre and him to come immediately. You barely have the energy to continue standing, so you absolutely don't have the strength to deal with this alone.

- You gather him close, sitting the two of you down on the couch and just try and breathe, sit there with each other and pretend things will all be okay and wait in the meantime for Reagan and Andre to appear in order to get some ideas going on what to do or how to go about this entire situation, the others on standby and there for support should you need it. You've never been more thankful for the friends you have.

- "M'not going to leave you." Myc says, determination steady within his now weathered voice, as if it was skinned and tanned like an animal hide in the sun, "I don't wanna' go." Your hands grip him tighter as your fingertips trace over patterns and textures on his surface, humming a note against the light within his partial veil beneath the cap.

- "Nothing could take me from you, and I won't let anything take you from me either." is what you choose to comfort him with, knowing that humor was a strong suit and that comedy wasn't something to include just yet, reality to raw to disinfect with the sting of punchlines.

- Andre and Reagan soon arrive, disbelief covering their features the instant they enter the door and a litany of questions follow with Andre's tears as he and Myc hug, bubbly watery giggles erupting forth from both him and you at the relief. Reagan pokes and prods, then takes notes from what you could tell, and remains as confused as you are.

- after a while and many frustrating moments, the two leave back to their respective lives. Andre promises to come the next day and Reagan plans to run tests bright and early tomorrow. Nevertheless, the night is yours with him and the two of you alone. You try and make the best of it by familiarizing yourself with the way it felt to be enveloped with Myc, to feel those tendrils around your frame holding you close.

- and as with all things with Myc, it turned sexual suddenly and rapidly, making you appreciate his ease in removing you from a current situation with his attention, touch, and care. A gift tethered in mycelial networks and fungi.

- the two of you don't even make it to the bedroom, Myc being so eager to have you in any which way, he fucks you on the floor against the plush living room carpet, letting you know how thankful he is for your precious ass in his life (both literally and figuratively) as he fucks you to delirium.

- next thing you know, you have his voice in your ear while two tendrils splay your bare thighs open, tentacles notched in the crook of your knee and thigh as he pumps the tips of three appendages in and out of you, commenting and praising you for how slick you are and how welcoming your cunt is to him, like a homecoming once your greedy pussy sucks him in like even your spongy inner walls missed him.

- "god you're so fucking wet, all for me right? getting all gushy and messy for me only." his words hit just the right buttons, perched and murmured right beside your ear as he thrums, twisting the tips of his appendages within you and barely showing signs of him being affected. The two little tendrils that have collected droplets of slick tease and prod at your ass, occasionally breaching the tight ring of muscle and allowing Myc the pleasure of hearing that broken, higher pitched cry you moaned out with his name on your tongue, grinding into his ministrations and begging for more.

- "mhmm, all for you Mikey," you moan softly, brokenly, in a way so soft it competes against battered butterfly wings, "all yours, always yours, even m'pussy." He laughs, fucking you harder at that like a reward, groaning happily and letting the waves of pleasure spread rather than him holding back and halting his own enjoyment. Now he can fuck you.

- “damn fucking straight.” He curses, fucking you with earnest while he sits behind you, feeling flush and warm while he feels you tense and clench around him. Then follow suit once he breaches your ass, fucking into you shallowly and slowly there, easing himself in and loving the way your jaw falls slack and your hips seem to have a mind of their own. You prop your feet at an angle and use it to better fuck yourself on the makeshift cock and tendrils of Myc’s appendages, loving how you felt him in both holes and stuffed full, practically gushing around him and soaking the couch cushion beneath the two of you.

- good thing they’re washable.

-“all mine, always gonna’ be mine.” He mutters, movements stuttering as he nears orgasm but tries to hold out, “my baby gonna’ let me stuff them full? Until it leaks, hm?” You nod, voicing a yes against the skin of his closest to you and cry out once his tendrils brush at your cervix as you grind down and thrust back and forth against him.

- “please Myc, wanna’ cum, want your cum, want you to make me feel good.” You drawl in a plead, hands smoothing over him beneath you and sliding up and down his cock, reaching a hand to play with your clit until he smacks it away and replaces it with an appendage and shakily strokes and he gets closer to cumming. He shakes beneath you, Myc shuddering and stuttering once he voices his nearing euphoria.

- he cums, flooding your cunt and having it spill forth, pollock-like flecks of cum splattering your inner thighs and allowing you to slide better and take him in, cumming shortly after with a scream of his name and an orgasm that lasted nearly a solid minute, senses gone and world as white as fresh snowfall.

- there’s silence for a moment, your back resting against his front, tendrils not still inside you caressing and tending to your sweaty, tired body. “Hey, hon?” He draws you out of your reverie to turn to look at him, “pretty good for a dead man.”

- “fuck off, dear god.”

- Myc cackles and leans back into the couch cushions and pillows, and the joy that thrums in your heart soothes the ache of his death, loving him in any state, even when he’s being a little shit.

—Happy Halloween—

Tags: @cognitosclowns @radioactivebowtie @mollicutes @carnalcringe @bluebaronness @flyingspicerack

[soshadysoquiet]

TUA S4 thoughts.

Below, spoilers.

Okay. Lord gonna need some strength to get through this coherently.

Basics first:

The Music: Maybe 2-3 good songs. Dissapointing. Let's talk of a mo about Baby Shark: to me it wasn't funny, the song being such a social media present one in this world really took me out of the show. Yes sure the funnies of parents having to listen to kid music and them being stuck that way but I really wish they'd taken the time to make an original annoying jingle. TUA is usually such a delight for the ears that this hurt me bad! Plus they then kept changing whether the song was on or off, seemed like Diego could control it somewhat, but then why would he turn it back on for them riding into the final battle?

The Dialogue: Felt forced and cheap in places. They can use the word 'fuck' now and seem to therefor have decided they don't need to make the characters have witty insults for each other.

The 'Themes' of the show: Why has my quirky family drama been turned into a 90's romance film. Who asked for this. No.

The "Plot": When your own characters don't care about the plot for the sake of shindigs you think will be more entertaining then you know you fucked up. It made sense the first 2 series them having side quests. Less so in the third. Even less so now. Literally at times they had to say to each other 'oh yeah shouldn't we find Ben?' I'll be here in the corner raisining. Also they came up with these 'stages' for the apocalypse but had one guy throw up, a couple things go boom and then they merge, it was one of the least threatening depictions of apocalypse I've seen - though that could be that it wasn't shot in very interesting ways.

Also side note for why there were so many shots that started upside down and rotated? Like I get if Klaus is upside down, and yeah the umbrellas are inside out, but it (plus the Bennifer monster) gave me too many stranger things vibes.

Now the sub-cast:

Jennifer: Love that for 1/2 the protagonist of the apocalypse she had little to no love put into her character, I legit kept forgetting her and Ben were part of the storyline. I loved that she was birthed from the squid, but why put something eerie and cool like that in and make it have meant nothing? Such a waste.

The villains [Gene, Jean and Abigail/Psy(sp?)]: Whilst I liked the idea of memories infecting the timeline, literally all of these guys was Tell don't Show. And for a series with only six episodes I do not want my time wasted with some side-character villains getting a dance number over the main cast. Despicable. Also there were WAY too many villains here especially if you then also count Reggie as one. Literally make Jennifer be trying to link up with Ben and coercing him (then Viktor could break through to him briefly from past experience of a similar relationship - the symmetry is nice) and have Abbigail be pulling the strings. There were so many side characters of no import that I lost track of the main cast. Hell, make Kenny's Mom be the bad guy I'd have loved that! Also, I like that Abigail was somewhat evil, but then they tried to make her good too? No thank you. Pick a lane not everybody needs redemption.

Special RIP to Diego and Lila's twins that Never Even Got Names 💀 fucking hell that's lazy ass writing.

Now the main cast:

Viktor: He deserved better, why bother to introduce that he's had a girlfriend, slept through the entire town, and owns a bar when you then don't talk about any of it. He's told to 'grow up' it's so specific, what does it mean? Also since last we saw he was the sort of ride or die for his love type (with both Leonard and Sissy) this is a frustrating turn with no explanation. Also his whole fight with Reggie and getting things off his chest arc felt forced and not as well written to me. And his character seemed to have been given zero changes from the last 6 years. I miss when his powers actually had a sound element to them rather than just, Havoc from X Men hands. You're taking the Viktor out of my Viktor.

Allison: We have no explanation of how she and Klaus found each other and fell in together. No info of how she and Reggie parted ways. We only hear that 'Ray left her' and nothing else. She says no one wants her at the party but then seems to know Gracie? Has she talked with Any of them since? Nothing was addressed from the end of last season, or even referred to being addressed in the past. I don't see the point of her new powers, or any of them having slightly off or new powers when then some of them don't? Either way, her rumours are so classic and now she's floating people? I see the link and if they'd been developing new powers over 6 years fine but no. You're taking the Allison out of my Allison.

Luther: Praise be, I did like Luther this season. He mentioned Sloane (shock horror, a love interest from a time gone by being brought up?!?! In TUA!!??) he was cracking me up and was really being Best Boy. Although I felt a lot of his dialogue was flat, and it seemed really out of character for him to start attacking the piñata? I don't think we've ever seen him physically lash out unless angry? It looked to me like 'oh yeah here's another silly gimmick that will be a haha. Diego, sure. Luther, no. They also decided (not surprised but always so disappointed) to make him getting ape-i-fied again humorous and not the soul destroying thing it would be. Also, why was he ape-i-fied??? His ape-ness came from the serum not the marigolds? Generally though, I really did enjoy him this season.

Diego: Love that we're throwing every over used marriage-in-pieces trope in the book at these two. Love that. Especially as they seemed to have sorted out some of their communication issues. I get their trajectories but was so deeply, Deeply bored watching it. Diego was sadly pretty dislikable for the whole season, which was real sad because I had grown to love him. There were some funny moments don't get me wrong, he's got too much personality to be a boring character, but whilst they didn't have to have a perfect marriage it was so dull and in hindsight such an obvious set up for the bleh that was to come. Plus they threw in a 'don't make me turn this car around' type moment to show how 'he's a parent now look wow' but I can't imagine any of the siblings hearing that and not laughing at him.

Lila: Again, marriage and wrong-conclusions and it was so boring. She's such a fun character and she was reduced to 'ooo how can we make her be a cheater and with Five' Why do you even need to do that? I just feel sad about it. And it doesn't help that we Don't Know Two Of Her Kids Names and neither her nor Diego seem to think of them for however long they're on the road, and she mentions them only once in the 7years of subway hell and both of them seem relatively undistressed without them. Sure, parents do need a break, but if you don't care about the kids visibly you know for sure I the audience member ain't gonna. Also why the eye lasers save for again a brief gag? It makes no sense when she then also has mimics abilities?

Claire: Let's give Claire a side note at this point. I do so hate it when shows decide to make children their parent's brains and moral compasses, take little to no time to show any bond between parent and child until the last 2 episodes, and instead choose to spend that time showing us how naturally fractious a relationship they have. Love that, so much. Never seen it before really. I get it's normal, but when ever other part of the show is cookie cutter predictable I don't need this too. Give her an actual personality that isn't "the wise old rebellious teenager"

Ben: Wow. So glad that A) I had to hear a character explain crypto currency for me, so glad we wasted precious time of a 6 episode series on that. B) Ben had changed 0%. C) that he had Even Less input and impact at the end emotionally than in any previous season and this one was About Him! And do you know why? Because D) they basically used star-crossed-lovers-can't-help-ourselves and made him use every creepy stalker OTT moving way too fast line in the books especially when Jennifer at a lot of moments was verbally saying she wasn't into it.. Also why does he talk about her like he's a 12 yr old and, idk, it was a shame to have no real impact from him until the end when he's suddenly scared and pushing Viktor away to save him but we see no connection from him and Viktor previously as to why he'd listen it would make more sense if it had been Klaus or Luther at this point.

Klaus: Now, I know a lot of his storyline this season came from the comic, and sure it's good material, that should probably have been used Throughout the seasons rather than crammed into 1 day. But let's chat for a hot mo: Now I like that we got to see him be nasty rather than the precious uwu Klaus that I've been guilty of perceiving at times, and that we see some of the negative effects of addiction on the family for the first time. Great moments, important. BUT. I'd have felt his rage out at Allison and turn to drugs would have been a lot more impactful if they'd bothered to show him waking up to the sound of being screamed at, barely able to hear his siblings, struggling to focus on them and wanting to drown it out. But we don't get that, the horror of what this means for him. Then we proceed to got through this whole let's have him want to get shot by a drug dealer (don't quite get why - or how Claire knows he's immortal now? did the powers back thing ever come up??) have him kidnapped and forced to prostitute himself, take more drugs (but still use his powers?) Develop a new power though without using the comic's fun quirk that he has to take his shoes off, and then bury him alive. Wow. this guy had plenty going on, but sure. Then -he can save himself, I thought this might become something poignant - he's able to conjure the dog to Go to Allison and lead them there, but no, he just gets rescued again. Gee I wonder what grave he's in Mom? All I don't know Claire, how about the Only One That's Been Dug Up? I thought it was really interesting to see his moments as a teen with Allison, and how he was living with her and thought they handled the worry about death/germs etc thing well tbf. Though also how the hell did he get home from being 13 hrs away and why nobody cared to go with him was pretty low.

Five: Dear lord that moustache was awful and I'm glad they all called it creepy and he had no concept. I despise 2 things they did here: made it canon that he gets romantic with Lila. Made going back into the literal apocalypse that he spent time having flashbacks about barely if at all affect him - it's unsure if his hesitation going back into it the second time was hesitation to go in there, and that's what I hoped they would do, but then, no. no. Please, Pleeaasse don't take away this nice, safe space I had in this nice, safe 'you literally can't sexualise him with anyone it would be so problematic' character and say 'they held out 7 years but yeaaahhh they hook up.' don't see why it was needed. It didn't 'heal' him, it was a plot for conflict but I've got plenty of other conflict plots that can end with Lila and Diego fighting without having to make every damn character have a god damn love interest! I loved their bond before, it was so fun and special to see a male and female not have to fall in love, and they ruined it. And it was for nothing? And they didn't have time to make the 7 years feel like 7 years and it was lazy writing for cheap conflict in my opinion. I hated it, I hate that it's "canon". I don't think I can describe just how awful I found it and unnecessary. I also don't buy that Five would be willing to not drink the marigolds as much as the others, or that there would be a timeline full of given up fives that sit around a diner. It was fun to watch though. And up until they started the montage in the subway and we knew where it was going I was enjoying Five in this season. that boy has had such a shit life and this is how it ends?

I will say that the flashback to them as kids was my favourite part of this series. It's always good to have a little deeper insight into how they interacted as children but I do have some Opinions here too of course: Reggie saying 'you look ridiculous' to Viktor, no, he made their outfits? I felt that was lazy writing when Reggie in the past has laid into Viktor's insecurities much more keenly: 'That outfit is only for your brothers and sisters / we've been over this, you're not special take it off / I will not have you wasting time with frivolity when the Academy has important work to do, leave us." etc. Also I thought there might be something different about why they all forgot their Ben memories. It was brutal yes, which I appreciated, but I can't believe that these guys wouldn't see their father kill their brother and not One of them flip their shit? Idk, it was a little... good and bad I guess.

I think that's it for now, if anyone read this far then well done! I might write a fix it post in a bit for my own entertainment.

[osiris-iii-bc]

Secondo Emeritus - Naples

Primo | Secondo | Terzo

Naples. My beautiful Naples. My beloved, adored Naples. It is the city where I studied and grew up in and it is also literally filled with mysteries and legends. I thought Naples would have been the perfect formation place for a young Secondo Emeritus. Let’s see what may have influenced and inspired him in his religious journey.

1 - The musical church. 

Ghost’s music has always been heavily loaded with the Devil’s Tritone: also called Diabulus in Musica or Devil’s Interval, it is an unsettling dissonance produced by an unusual arrangement of notes that gives that spooky, devilish tone to music. In Infestissumam, it was featured on 9 out of 10 songs. The use of the Tritone was banned in Medieval times (In Ghost, its use dramatically dropped with Prequelle, with only 2 out of 10 songs featuring it). So what if I tell you that, in contrast, in Naples there is a church that functions as a musical score, whose music protects it from evil?

Basically, there is a church in Piazza del Gesù that has a particular pointy ashlar on the external facade. Under the side (the one facing the ground, so if you look up from the street you can see them) of each of these little pyramids are carved symbols, which turned out to be Aramaic letters that were later translated into musical notes. So, it turned out that the whole church is a big score, and it’s playable. The whole melody, called Enigma, was played for the first time inside the church to celebrate the discovery. You can hear the music here (sound quality is not the best).

Will it protect the church from Ghost’s music?

2 - The skull cult.

Naples has very intricate underground galleries, almost all visitable. One of these is Cimitero delle Fontanelle, a famous catacomb where the remains of about 40.000 people who died from plagues are stored. It is said the “anime pezzentelle” cult was born here: it is a particular relationship each Neapolitan establishes with a chosen skull. You literally adopt an abandoned skull, which according to our tradition is the seat of the soul, and your duty is to care for it, protect it and also create a special niche for it. In exchange, the soul of that skull will protect you.

A nice place for a Bone Daddy.

3 - Pretty and Evil like Mergellina’s devil.

Knowing the passion our Secondo has for women, here is a story about a very devilish one.

In Santa Maria del Prato church, in the Mergellina area, there is the only representation of the devil as a woman in a painting.

The legend has it that said woman was the beautiful Vittoria D’Avalos, who seduced the Bishop Diomede Carafa, who commissioned the painting in 1542 to represent his victory against the woman’s lust (we're all believing him, right? 🙄).

Now that story has a way of saying that refers to femmes fatales as “Pretty and Evil like Mergellina’s devil”.

I’d say she may be considered among the first-ever Sisters of Sin. 

4 - Who gives life can also take it.

Infestissumam is filled with references to birth and Jesus, turning it into the birth of the antichrist and creating a narrative that is completely opposite to the birth of the Son of Man. Now, in Naples, there is a statue that embodies both concepts.

Back to Piazza del Gesù: On a very high pedestal in the center of the square stands a statue of the Virgin Mary, the Mother. That's all... until you position yourself at a specific point in the square and look up to see the statue transformed into the Reaper. His face is hidden by the cowl, staring straight at you, with a sickle at its feet and a snake crawling on it.

Depending on your point of view, the giver of life becomes the taker of it.

5 - Body and Blood… but especially blood.

What never stops to fascinate me about the relationship of Neapolitans with religion is the very thin line between devotion and pure blasphemy. It is the case of the “miracle” of San Gennaro’s blood. It happens twice a year and it consists in bringing the Saint’s blood in a liquid state again (after centuries it is obviously solidified). The particular thing is that during this ritual, the worshippers (and the priests too) literally insult the saint to convince him to make the miracle happen, because if it doesn’t work, it means that something terrible is about to happen.

(Last time it didn’t work was right before the Covid pandemic 🙂)

I’d say this could have been a great inspiration for Body and Blood and Idolatrine.

Honorable mention to the fact that I have lived 32 years now on this Earth and I never attended this event even though I would like to.

Bonus: Now, I said that Dante would come back in the chapters, and he is. In fact, not only Virgilio died in Naples (and he is the protector of the city) but, apparently, the gates of Hell Dante mentioned in his comedy were located on the Averno lake, near Pozzuoli, not far from Naples.

[fishhjuice]

An In-depth C-Side Characterization Guide/Cheatsheet by Dottie Fishjuice

Greetings! I am very autistic and therefore knowledgable/cursed about C-Side, and i hope to curse you too. I at least to my knowledge has read thorugh everything provided to us and pondered on it, and now i will be sharing.

This was very much inspired by the analysis provided by @/arogustus and @/evil-urchin.

Everything I will say I will point (at the very least try) to point the source of, because i minored in Comparative Literature so this is how I do literary analysis. The smaller text inside parathesis will be my thoughts and speculations, and I will try to keep these at a minimum, trying to stay as factual as possible.

C-Side as a Whole

C-side is the representative band of the Splatlands region. In fact, it is said that "No band reps harder for the Splatlands than this trio" in Splatbase, not even Deep Cut. They are, aside from Riot Act (which is like C-Side 2), the sole splatband to be from Splatlands.

The Riot Act introduction tweet [by the wording of SplatoonJP] calls them "exemplifying Splatlands values". These values can be a sensitivity to fleeting nature of life, and an effort to be as chic and bold as possible [from Fia's translation of the Artbook]

They have at least been active for 8~ years, being active at the same time as Squid Squad (from Beika's tweets).

In the words of Big Man, "C-side has been making great music for a long time", and has served as one of the musical influences to Deep Cut. [X]

In the tweet presenting Paintscraper [by SplatoonJP, for this bit was lost in translation], they are characterized as a "tight-knit trio". This fondness is also portrayed in several of Beika's tweets.

Who else but Kiki would come back to a band they quit once? Well, I'm pretty sure that the guys who let 'em back in probs would too.

Paintscraper is based on a demo that Walter made. I heard that he played the guitar himself too. It's very silly and ridiculous, but it has a unique charm to it. If I get the chance, I'd like to share it.

(I believe this to be also evident in their music, with Beika and Kikura dueting in all of C-side songs, even Splattack which is originally a solo, speaking into their cohesion as a band and whatnot. Not to mention with Splattack, Uotora and Kikura basically enabled Beika's revenge quest. With the vocalists shouting "C-Side" in Headhammer and Paintscraper, they seem pretty proud of themselves too (which they are and ill talk about it), but this is more speculation than fact. I will get into things more in individual character sections.)

One of the only bits of characterization given by Nintendo to C-side is the fact they have 1) the ambition and 2) the attitude. [X] (I find their ambition to be underrepresented in fandom)

In their introductory tweet [by SplatoonJP, this part again not being translated to English] , they are said to have come from lower economic backgrounds and have no formal music education, making up for this with the said ambition.

As for their attitude, Inue himself has said "The members of C-Side aren’t a well-behaved bunch.". C-side has also been called rowdy, and rebellious.

The combination of their ambition and attitude seems to manifest itself in the form of insolence. It is said that "These three don't doubt for a second that they're the greatest band alive." (And I would like to emphasize "These Three", not only Beika)

That isn't to say their confidence is totally misplaced. They are said to have the most momentum to become the most popular band of Inkfish world [X] out of all, to the point they might have even inspired a counter-movement in the form of H2Whoa ("An Inkopolitan retort to the wild "Splatlands sound" folks were used to"). This is also supported by how the exact word Beika uses to describe Inkopolis is repeatedly used to describe H2Whoa both in their introduction and their Splatbase page, pretentious.

Not only that, Bait and Click (normal and mutation) could also speak into the recognition they get as artists, since the W-3 Cellist is said to recognize only the most radical of works [X]

As for their opinion on salmonid, although Beika uses the word "funny" to describe the salmonid arrangement, Beika calls the Deep Cut arrangement of Now or Never "funny" as well, which overall seems to indicate they have the same level of enthusiasm or respect for Deep Cut and Omega 3. It's remarkably positive language for Salmonid.

They also seem to be very well loved within Splatsville. Despite having no billboards or posters in Splatsville unlike Wet Floor and Squid Squad, the statuettes of their shrimpets are all over Splatsville, in a food stand during Splatfest and in Grizzco office. (It seems to me more like they don't need to advertise in Splatsville at all, people already know who they are, whereas they have posters in Inkopolis)

Another thing to support this is the fact is that trains that come from Splatsville seem to play Clickbait, which you can hear during Big Run [X]. For comparison's sake, the Inkopolis trains play Calamari Inkantation, so it can be said their fame is at least comparable to Callie and Marie.

Speaking of these shrimps, they are implied to be the kind of animal that spooks easily by Frye in her boss dialouge, talking about how "[Neo3] can't treat her eels like shrimp"

Murch's suitcase features an older version of the C-side logo, indicating he is probably a fan.

Although SplatoonNA calls them grungy in their introductory tweet, it is pretty obvious from the tempo of their music, their characterization and the fact they are self taught that C-side is supposed to be less of a grunge band and more of a punk band. For us who are unfamiliar with the difference between genres, grunge is more dark, nihilistic, wretched, angst-filled and anguished, whereas Punk is more rebellious and filled with fighting-spirit. Inue also calls their music "bright, easy to groove to, but still heavy". (I would personally love to see them being characterized as such)

The fact they have no sad defeat theme also probably plays into how C-side is supposed to be bright. The name "Learning Curve" also is a bit more hopeful/positive, possibly giving a glance to how their lyrics could be. (This could speak into their attitude towards their fame, which came after years)

Again playing into their ego, "Rinse/Repeat" seems to be imply something about how effortless winning is to them.

Their music is supposed to be intentionally (by developers) reminiscent of Squid Squad's. In the words of Inue, "We’ve also been keeping in mind the feelings of  "primary colors" and "impulses felt when starting something" from the first game." and in the words of Minegishi, "What was at the forefront of music in the first game was a fast, playful and summery feel using just a few notes. For C-Side, which plays a central role in the third game's music, we made the deep bass and upbeat melody stand out in their music while reminding the audience of the sound from the first game."

Interestingly, their music is also supposed to "counter" Wet Floor's.[X].

It is said that "They don't ask permission to cover other artists' tracks, and they claim their versions are better.". Although this brings up the question if they frequently cover other artists' songs, it is most likely refers to Splattack and Splattack only, as Beika feels the need to clarify why they covered Splattack.

And this is the end of the band section.

I will be getting into the very little we know of their individual characterization under Read More. This part will be a bit more speculative, and cannot be as factual due to the nature of how character analysis works. Your interpretation of these facts is just as valid. If you skimmed or scrolled this far, thank you so much for your time.

I will be going in the order of how much we know of these characters. Unfortunately because most we know about these characters come from Beika, in a way at times they are characterized by their interractions with Beika. I hope to not sound biased. Here we go.

Uotora

Uotora is a long spine porcupinefish.

One thing that jumps out from the album art itself is that Uotora has their spikes out. Spikes of porcupinefish, which Uotora is, only stick out when they are are inflated and otherwise is supposed to lay flat against their body. You already probably know that these fish inflate themselves when they are frightened/threatened. Given this fact, it is very likely Uotora has an anxious personality. (This could be also be playing into Uotora's name in an ironic manner. Uotora, which means tiger fish, could be a play on the scary fish being scared themselves)

They must have a bit of an ego though, considering "These three don't doubt they are the greatest band alive."

They, along with Kikura, seem to support/enable Beika's conflict with Ichiya, from the wording "In the case of Squid Squad's Now or Never!, they [as a group] even claim to be the originators."

They play the guitar and the drums in the Uotora demo. Listening closely, you can seemingly vaguely hear Beika singing along, which speaks to their bond.

Speaking of bonds, the phrasing of Beika's tweet characterizes them as just as willing to welcome Kikura back as Beika was.

Who else but Kiki would come back to a band they quit once? Well, I'm pretty sure that the guys who let 'em back in probs would too.

Best guitarist in C-side. Sorry Kiku.

Kikura

Kikura is a peacock bass.

Peacock bass are said to be aggressive and "downright belligerent" (pointing this out since it would probably affect them the same way Finn being a betta affects Finn)

Apperantly there is still an ambiguity about this, Kikura is the owner of the high-pitched voice without any doubt. In the music for Splatoon that has multiple vocalists, the vocals are panned to only play in one ear and which vocals play for which side line up with the album art for these groups, which makes Kikura who is in the right lined up with the high-pitched voice. We are also able to infer this from Clickbait, in the call and response part of the song, the high-pitched voice only sings when the guitar is playing.

They are stated to be often late to the studio.

They are said to be known for their deep and edgy guitar riffs [X].

According to Beika, they at some point left the band but came back. Beika speaks fondly of this, implying a level of trust between the two.

Who else but Kiki would come back to a band they quit once?

The relationship between the two seems to go beyond this. Despite Beika writing the Triple Dip, they are barely in it, propping Kikura in the song. This also happens in Splattack, which is not only turned into a duet, but also is more guitar heavy, at times removing the bass sections [X]. (It seems to me that Beika likes to show off Kikura)

They, along with Uotora, seem to support/enable Beika's conflict with Ichiya, from the wording "In the case of Squid Squad's Now or Never!, they [as a group] even claim to be the originators."

Again, they are implied to have a bit of an ego, "greatest band alive" yada yada yada.

The tweet about leaving is not about Riot Act, since Riot Act is said to be "Hot on the indie scene", implying it is a new development.

Riot Act is a side project, which in popular music, is a project undertaken by one or more people already known for their involvement in another band, which SplatoonNA also points towards. So no, Kiki didn't leave C-side for Riot Act (but did steal Finn from Beika).

However it might be important to mention when asked about No Plan Survives, they with Finn said "We wanted to play as freely as possible".

Beika

Beika is an inkling. Shocker.

Despite their vague similarities the idea Beika is Frye's brother is contradicted by canon, as Beika implied from their tweets (and the fact that C-side acted as a musical influence to Deep Cut) is older than Frye, not younger. (I made a chart for this)

They are the lower voice for the same reasons I stated for Kiku.

From their first tweets, they come off as friendly/cool or at the very least make the effort to come off as friendly/cool (I use cool very loosely).

There is likely a delibarate effort to cultivate a positive persona by Beika, in how they seem to chastise themselves about how upset they have gotten and /or how they presented themselves with "I rambled too much last night." Another thing pointing at how Beika might be avoiding negativity is with how they seem to undercut their criticisms of Inkopolis scene by stating how they like Bottom Feeders and how they would like everyone to listen to their music.

They seem to be very invested in the music making process, as their first tweets are entirely about their music.

They seem to have the potential to be overdramatic sometimes, as they start their rant with the words "I'm typing this in a drunken stupor". Then again, they are drunk so take this with a grain of salt. (You know C-side lyrics probably go hard)

THIS IS ACTUALLY SO IMPORTANT: Beika does not make the accusation that Ichiya stole the song while drunk!! Please look at the wording!!

I've said this half a billion times this year alone, but Now or Never is a C-Side original.

"I've said this a million times this year alone" clearly shows Beika has made this accusation before.

Other than being very funny, the fact Beika can't seem to even remember Squid Squad's name seems to imply they are indifferent to it. The fact Ichiya is the only Squid Squad member called by name in their tweets goes to show it is Ichiya and Ichiya alone that drives Beika's ire. This is also supported by Beika's, although backhanded, compliment.

The tweet Beika makes before revealing Ichiya was their middle schoolmate is "If there's anything better than a late night meal alone, let me know.". This could very well be interpreted as Beika associating that feeling of loneliness with Ichiya.

It is also important to point out Ichiya did contact Beika.

He decided he was going to go to Inkopolis, and then after a little while, he told me that he had debuted with a band. I tried listening to them just to find out that their sound was so soft that it made my ink churn.

Along with "The Secrets of Front Roe" pointing out Ichiya is avoiding Splatsville "for some reason", it is more than reasonable Beika is not making up the fact Ichiya and them know of each other, and it is not a fit of baseless jelaousy.

While dissing Ichiya, they make time to talk about how they think their fans are cool and talented.

... Any of you guys would be able to make a song that's just as cool.

While doing so they also flaunt their talent, showing the extent of their ego.

I mean our song is this one 300 times better, right? Just wanted to make it clear that we're not trying to pay homage to it or anything like that.

The "You have some nerve to come crawling back home." is said in a very, very harsh tone in Japanese. The wording specifically seems to imply they are very upset at Ichiya leaving in the first place.

While Beika is a loser, they aren't seemingly the type to back down from a fight. Rather than apologizing, they simply say "I rambled too much last night." and go on with their lives.

--

And this is the end of it.

NOW. For a complete speculation,

From wording of "Who else would come back to a band they left" and their need to prop up and show off Kikura,

The fact Ichiya is self taught much like C-Side,

The fact Ichiya is avoiding Splatsville,

The fact Beika seems too proud of their work and very involved in the music making process

The fact C-side is characterized through their ambition

makes me think Ichiya more likely than not did steal Now or Never. It seems to me Beika's pride and ambition would not allow them to lie about a thing they didn't do. If i were to guess, from the fact C-side's Now or Never is a duet, it is likely song was written together before Ichiya took off.

Thank you so much for reading if you actually read this far. See you when Side Order Art Book demolishes all of this!!

[that-one-girls-blog-posts]

you're confused about your emotions ? me too babe, here's a quick reading

I chose random images from my pinterest to read into your energy so you can choose randomly aswell, whatever speaks to you♡ also Idk what's with the 2016 songs today but I kept hearing random ones throughout this reading maybe there's some resonance for you

Pile 1

The Moon🌜

first off I'm hearing that song "we don't talk anymore" by Charlie Puth. So maybe you're dealing with some kind of loss right now, maybe a breakup, a fight with a loved one, a new chapter meaning you have to leave someone behind a little... if this is the case, or similar, allow yourself to be "thrown off" a little, those kinds of situations take adjusting and remember that nothing has to be forever. where I come frome we say : "thunderstorms clear the air" meaning that after a fight there's great potential for healthy communications and solving problems once and for all, for a peaceful and harmonic environment♡ A reading about your emotional state and I pull the moon, how well fitting. The answer truly lays on the inside with this one. no one can tell you how you truly feel exept for yourself! (and maybe your therapist) I think for most of you there's a new season starting and you're realising that it can't be all returning characters. Take some time to heal your relationship with relationships and analyze what and who is truly of good value to your life. you got this!

Pile 2

four of swords🗡 and page of pentacles🪙

for you I'm hearing that song "cold water" with Justin Bieber. And you actually need to take a jump into cold water. There's something you've been manifesting and now that it's slowly getting closer you're resisting the change. Maybe by refusing to let go ? It's like little kids now around Christmas, you can actually watch this happen with slight alterations, all the time. Their parents take them to the toystore so they can see what they like, and they child ofcourse find something but their parents tell them okay now time to go home and wait and see if Santa will bring it. But the kid clings to the shelves and doesn't wanna leave behind the thing they so desperately wanted. Little does it now that their parents just need to get them out of sight so "Santa" can buy the gift and deliver it WHEN IT IS TIME. let go of obsessing, overthinking and trying to "go the right path" and just let the story unfold, take it step by step even if its a little scary and you'll find yourself where you're supposed to be, you're so close already♡

Pile 3

seven of swords🗡

It's too heavy darling you can't carry all of that. You might think you do and you think you're so strong and abundant and successful for "having" all of that but then you wouldn't be feeling like this, would you? A burden, too much responsibility, too many goals or to do's for a person who only has 24hours in a day. I know the card typically speaks about actual betrayal but in this case it feels a little paranoid, like you're desperately trying to do it all on your own because your scared of beeing betrayed or someone messing with your vision or even catching evil eye. For you I'm hearing "Lady Marmalade" yk from Moulin Rounge !? I'm not sure how that fits in here and I never watched the movie but oh well, maybe you know what to do with this information. There could be something about sisterhood and sharing a problem (could be workload or talking about problems...). You might have that lonely wolf mindset, but no matter how strong you are, out there, beeing alone can get you killed. I keep seeing pictures of spiritual communities and churches, you might wanna be looking for something like a mediation or yoga class, bible study group, a coven.... depending on your beliefsystem! you're right not everyone is your friend but also not everyone is your enemy!

ps. reading back this comes off a little weird and I feel like I need to say this. please don't join a cult lol. If you are in some kind of group and things feel off, please take care of yourself♡

hope that helped <3